Prologue
Kaye lay dormant on the cold ground as Peter rocked back and forth against her small, frail body. The sound of horses whimpering in the meadow followed the brisk air into the small handmade tent that was covering Kaye’s body. Peter had made the tent by hanging old blankets over his mother’s leaning clothes line.
Kaye’s blurred vision, caused by the fighting off of her tears that wanted to roll down her soft cheeks, focused on the blanket that hung above her that had to be at least a hundred years old. There were rips and tears all through it. She’d hoped so strongly that her grandmother would come looking for her soon. It had already been three hours. Peter let her know this. He’d say, “See, I told ya. Nobody loves and cares about ya. It’s been three hours, and nobody’s checked on ya yet.” He’d end with a wicked laughter.
The routine for the afternoon consisted of Peter commanding her when to roll from her back to her belly. Every time she’d whimper, he’d scold her. She didn’t really know what was happening, she was only five, but she knew that she didn’t like it.
“Peter?” Granny May yelled from her back porch door.
“Yeah, Momma,” he hollered back in a chipper voice.
“Whatter you two kids doin’ out there?”
“Reading, Momma. Kaye keeps wanting me to read her stories.”
“Okay. Dinner will be soon.”
Just as Granny May was about to close the door behind, Kaye slipped from under Peter and escaped from the small tent.
“Granny, wait,” she panted.
“Dear child. Whattive you been doin’? Your little legs are covered with grass imprints.”
“I…”
“I…”
Peter interrupted her. “We’ve been layin’ on the ground, Momma. What else would ya expect?”
Peter was a typical teenage boy cocked with an attitude, but to Kaye, he was a mean, old, dirty man. She hated him with a passion.
Granny May shook her head. She’d given up years ago on discipline. She’d already raised three boys, with Peter being her last. She wasn’t the youngest either, having Peter at nearly fifty. Life just kept blessing her with children, even at an old age. Her body was strong as an ox when it came to the chores around the farm, but when it came to her boys, she was exhausted. Peter got to do almost anything he wanted – and he did, including molesting small innocent children.
“Momma, I’m gonna get the horse out. I promised Kaye that I’d let her ride Blackie if she was good today.”
“You kids be careful, you hear?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter huffed as he walked towards the stables.
“A horse?” Tears welled up in Kaye’s eyes. “But, I’ve never ridden one before. I afraid of them.”
“Shut up you little slut,” Peter scolded.
Peter grabbed Kaye’s hand and pulled her alongside of him. Her little legs could barely keep up.
Kaye’s eyes lit up the moment she saw Blackie. He looked just like the pony that her mother had read her a story about just a few days ago – Black Beauty. Sinking deep into the mud, even with her good tennis shoes on, she walked up to Blackie and rubbed her small hands down his side. She tried to be brave. She liked the horse, and she knew that he liked her too because he made a loud sound with his lips while raising his head high in the air. Kaye chuckled and gave him a kiss with her soft lips.
Just as Peter was about to place Kaye onto the saddle of the horse, the wind blew across the meadow. Her blond curls flew through the air just before hitting her small face. Kaye was an adorable child. She had a natural dark complexion that accented her gorgeous blue eyes. All she heard from the adults was how pretty she was, but after today, she didn’t want to be pretty anymore. Maybe if she was ugly, Peter wouldn’t have liked her so much.
“Come, Kaye, let me lift you up.”
Kaye cringed as Peter turned her back to him and placed his hands upon her chest. After a soft rub of her nipples, Peter raised her to the seat. When Kaye squirmed, he slapped her leg. It was so hard that she just knew that the welt would be there long enough so her mother would ask what had happened.
“Kaye, all you have to do is just hold on tight. He’s a nice horsy. He won’t hurt you.” Peter smirked.
“But . . . “ just as she was about to yell no, Peter slapped the horse on the bottom. Hard enough to leave a ring of echoes in the air.
Words were now scarce. Kaye screamed from the top of her lungs. Her little fingers held on to the rope with all her strength. Her grip was so tight that her hands were blood red, leaving her knuckles a bright white. Her blond curls were now matted onto her cheek bones from the tears that were streaming down her face.
“Please get me off here,” she pleaded.
“Only if you promise to never tell anyone what I did to you today and any other day that I do it.”
“I . . . I . . .,” Kaye only cried harder. “Please!”
Peter ran along side the horse and hit him yet once again, because Kaye wouldn’t answer to his liking.
“Help me! Please, somebody help me!” She gasped between breaths. Her heart was pounding so hard that she felt it throbbing against her chest. Kaye’s fear was so severe that she was just seconds away from passing out. Her adrenaline had surpassed a small child’s capability of enduring, leaving her, even at the young age of five, nervous, anxious and more frightened than she’d ever thought possible.
“I mean it, Kaye. All you have to do is promise me, and I’ll stop the horse. Just say that you won’t tell anyone.”
“Okay. I won’t,” she screamed.
“You promise.”
A deep breath. “Yes, I promise. I promise!”
Laughing from deep within, Peter took hold of the reigns and brought Blackie to a halt.
When Peter lowered Kaye to the ground, she took off running towards the back of the farm. She didn’t want to see anyone, especially a horse. She wanted to hide forever.
