A woman on the run. A family with secrets. A past that refuses to let go.
When Memphis Monroe finally escapes her abusive marriage, sheâs desperate for a fresh start. But freedom comes at a price. Haunted by the scars of her past and chased by the powerful family she left behind, Memphis must fight not only for her survivalâbut for the chance to reclaim her voice.
From the backroads of Tennessee to unexpected love and betrayal, Memphis is a gripping domestic thriller about resilience, hidden trauma, and the dangerous patterns that bind us.
Fans of Chevy Stevens, Thelma & Louise, and Sleeping with the Enemy will be captivated by this story of survival, sisterhood, and the fierce will to live free.
A woman on the run. A family with secrets. A past that refuses to let go.
When Memphis Monroe finally escapes her abusive marriage, sheâs desperate for a fresh start. But freedom comes at a price. Haunted by the scars of her past and chased by the powerful family she left behind, Memphis must fight not only for her survivalâbut for the chance to reclaim her voice.
From the backroads of Tennessee to unexpected love and betrayal, Memphis is a gripping domestic thriller about resilience, hidden trauma, and the dangerous patterns that bind us.
Fans of Chevy Stevens, Thelma & Louise, and Sleeping with the Enemy will be captivated by this story of survival, sisterhood, and the fierce will to live free.
Memphis hurries to get the plates onto the table -wise to set them down gently. The clock ticks louder than usual, its hands creeping toward eight. No time to spare. She wipes her hands on her apron and heads down the narrow hallway, the faded wallpaper brushing her shoulder. In the spare bedroom, she pauses. The doorâs already ajar. Breakfast is ready. Church starts in an hour,â she says, knocking gently as she pushes the door wider.Johnnyâs sprawled facedown on the couch, shirtless, one arm draped over the edge. He lifts his head, squints at her, then rolls over, eyes shut again. She waits. Nothing. Of course. She turns on her heel, heart tight with urgency. If theyâre late, itâll be her faultânever mind who stayed in bed. Rushing back down the hall, just as she rounds the corner to the kitchen, small fingers grab her hips. She gasps, half-laughing, half-startled, and glances down. Michael grins up at her, mischief glowing in his eyes.
âOh baby, you scared me,â she tells her son.
âI got dressed all by myself. Can we eat now?â Micheal smiles. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose, scattered like stars, and Memphis prays they'll stay, never fading into adulthood.
âAs soon as your Daddy gets up, yes - we can eat.â Memphis runs her hand through his brown locks.
âOk,â Michael says, a crease of mild disappointment tugging at his lips.
Johnny brushes past them, dropping heavily into a chair at the round kitchen table. The vinyl squeals under his weight, the orange pattern clashing with the mint-green walls.
âGod damn, boy,â Johnny says, eyes narrowing as they land on Michaelâs wrinkled t-shirt and faded jeans. He gestures with a cigarette hanging from his lips. âYou dress yourself this morning, or what?â He exhales a slow puff of smoke and drawls, âM darling? You think itâd be too much trouble to put a decent outfit on our boy?â
Memphis kneels beside Michael, her voice soft but firm. âOf course! Câmon, baby, letâs change your shirt.â She slips her hand into his, guiding him away.
Johnny rolls his eyes, waving a hand toward the stove. âWell, get my food first, geez! Yâall gonna leave me sittinâ here while you do that? Nah uh. Bring that here.â Memphis does as sheâs told.
â˝â˝â˝
Johnny steers the car into the church parking lot, the tires crunching over gravel as the clock ticks dangerously close to service time. He barely shifts into park before he swings the door open. Without a glance at Memphis, he strides toward the rusty black Chevy beside them, bending low to the window. His broad shoulders hunch as he leans in, blocking the morning light. Bobby slouches in the driverâs seat, his thick beard dusted with crumbs and ash. A stray thread clings to the dark mass of hair, making it hard to tell whether heâs slept, eaten, or smoked more recently. The stale scent of cigarettes and sweat clings to him, in sharp contrast to Johnny's clean-shaven face and close-cropped caramel hair. Memphis catches herself wrinkling her nose, wondering if Bobby's shower habits ever cross his mind, even for church. Meredith sits in the passenger seat like sheâs stepped out of a catalogâback straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, not a hair out of place. In the backseat, Sarah leans forward slightly, her wide eyes tracking the scene outside. She doesnât speak, just watchesâstill and quietâwhile the two brothers argue in the driveway, their voices sharp against the hush inside the car. Memphis steps out of the car, offering a quick nod to her in-laws, her lips pressed into a polite smile. Her hand tightens around Michaelâs small fingers as they walk toward the church, her mother Doris close at her side. Behind them, Johnnyâs voice rises in animated laughter, his words mixing with Bobbyâs as they swap details about some bar fight from the night before. The faint mention of punches and curses drifts in the air, tugging at her nerves. She quickens her pace as Billy, the youngest of the Freedom brothers, pulls into the church parking lot. Their rowdy banter trails off behind her as she grips the worn wooden handle of the church door. It opens with a soft creak, letting a wash of cool air kiss her face. Inside, the hush of the sanctuary greets herâthe scent of polished wood, the low hum of early arrivals, the dim light filtering through stained glass. She barely takes a step before she spots Ptor Wyatt and his wife, Shirley, moving toward her with easy smiles that carry years of Sunday mornings. Just as their greetings begin to form, Doris swoops in, cutting them off with the sharpness of her voice, ready to claim the moment for herself.
âWhatâs that godawful smell? You smell that, Memphis?â Doris says.
Memphis closes her eyes, mortified. When she opens them again, Shirley is wearing a strained smile.
âHi there, Doris. Good day to you," Shirley says, her voice steady, though her smile tightens just a touch. She glances at Pastor Wyatt, his lips parting, about to speakâuntil Doris barrels on.
"Ah, well, no matter. How are you, Shirley? You look amazing! Did you lose weight?"
Shirley's brow lifts slightly. "I wouldnât know if I did, but thanks for the compliment," she replies, her eyes sliding back to Memphis, bringing warmth with her gaze. "Memphis, honey, how are you?" She pulls her into a gentle hug, the scent of her perfume mingling with the cool church air. "And Michael, are you excited for service today?"
"Yes, maâam!" Michael chirps, his face lighting up."Well, good! You can find a seat up front. We've got some beautiful gospel singing this morning. I know youâll love it, Memphis.â
âThe Church has always been a refuge for Memphisânot for the religion itself, but for the escape it offers. The chance to slip away from the confines of home and see the few people who bring her comfort. The Wyatts had always been part of that solace. Theyâd been there for her before Johnny, when she used to sing in the choir every Sunday. Memphis spins at the sound of the heavy door creaking open. Johnny strides in like he owns the place, voice echoing through the sanctuaryâloud, smug, impossible to ignore. Bobby and Billy swagger in behind Johnny, laughter sharp-edged and too loud, like theyâre daring someone to tell them they donât belong. Meredith and Patty follow at a distance, their heels clicking softly against the floor, steps hesitant, eyes scanning the room like it might bite. Memphis watches them, catching the tight lines around their mouths, the way their shoulders dip inward. She knows that lookâshe wears it too. Being married to men with quick tempers had turned them all into quiet shadows. Meredith, Patty, and little Sarah slip in beside Memphis, their movements small, like theyâre trying not to disturb the air[âŚ]â
Excerpt From
Memphis
Holly May Cormier
This material may be protected by copyright.
Every aspect of Memphis's life is controlled by her abusive husband, Johnnyâeven down to the clothes she wears each day. Her mother, Doris, is aware of the brutal treatment Memphis endures, but rather than protect her daughter, she is Johnny's enabler, choosing to support Memphis's husband's actions and frequently chastising Memphis for her lack of gratitude. When Memphis reaches her breaking point, she escapes with her young son to live with her cousin in California and start a new life. When Johnny ultimately deduces where Memphis has fled to, Memphis and those protecting her are in grave danger, and Doris is forced to accompany him on his journey to find his wife and son.
Memphis by Holly May Cormier is set in the late 1970s, before the time of digital footprints, allowing for Memphis to disappear undetected. Not much is described about the era to establish it as a historical setting, outside of a handful of pop-culture references; it appears the year 1977 acts more as a function of explaining away Memphis's ease of escape than anything. Additionally, the book is marketed as a thriller, but it would be better classified as women's fiction. My personal opinion, when comparing Memphis to the many domestic thrillers I have read, is that the book lacks the suspense necessary to classify it as such.
The character development is the best part of the novel. Memphis's blossoming after escaping a life in which every decision was made for her and she lacked all autonomy, as well as the exploration of the roots of Johnny's and Doris's behavior, were well-crafted. There are quite a few triggering scenes, not limited to domestic violence, so readers should proceed with caution. Overall, the story is a worthwhile read, especially for those seeking tales of women's resilience and redemption.