Barred (28 page)

Sadly, Jim’s arrival made me long for the days when I just had my mother to fear. I was fifteen and, as Jim was constantly pointing out, well-developed for my age. It started with lingering, seemingly-innocent touches and quickly escalated. He started coming into my room at night.

He would twist my arm behind my back until I agreed to remove my top. He would sit or lay beside me, pinching my nipples painfully while masturbating. After a while, my breasts weren’t enough, and he wanted me completely naked. The first time, I fought him until he put a hand around my throat, cutting off my air supply until I blacked out. I woke to find one of his hands fondling my sex while he jacked-off. Each night he went further, taking more and more. I feared that soon he would no longer be content to just touch me. I knew without a doubt that my mother was aware of what was happening; I tried to talk to her more than once, and she would either walk away or backhand me until I shut up.

After having to endure his touch at every available opportunity, I heard him say something that saved me from certain rape. He was ranting to my mother about how she had better not gain any more weight because he hated heavy women. That night, I started eating everything I could hold without puking, and by the end of the month, I was fifteen pounds heavier. This continued until I gained almost fifty pounds. It was obvious my size was a complete turn-off to Jim. He stopped touching me and instead insulted me at every turn, but I didn’t care if it meant he no longer snuck into my bedroom at night.

I had no real friends in school, and my size made me the target of constant taunting. The upside of being a social outcast was I had a lot of time to study and graduated from high school at the top of my class. Even having no idea how I would afford it, I applied to every local college, desperate to escape the Hell I was living in. The day I received an acceptance letter from St. Claire’s was also the day my mother kicked me out. I should have been brave enough to leave before then; she would have never looked for me.

On my last night at home, I was in the laundry room ironing clothes when my mother stomped in, looking pissed at the world. Jim followed closely behind her. As they argued, I sat the iron down and tried to slink out the door without being noticed. When Jim suddenly yelled, “Fuck,” my spine stiffened and I looked over my shoulder to see him shaking his hand and pointing to the iron. “Look what the fuck you did, you fat ass! You left the iron sitting right in the middle of the floor and caused me to burn my hand. I bet you did it on purpose, you conniving bitch!”

I closed my eyes, feeling tears prickle behind the lids. “I…I’m sorry.” Suddenly, Jim’s anger switched from my mother to me. I was terrified and started trying to back away from him.

“Where the fuck you think you’re going?” As Jim advanced on me, my mother slid by and out the door, never looking back. I knew there would be no help from her. When had there ever been?

When Jim grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt, he jerked so hard I felt the thin cotton tear. As I tried to hold the shirt together, he ripped it from my body; snapping my neck painfully. I crossed my arms over my bra, repeating over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry, you lying cow. You intentionally left that iron there, hoping I’d burn myself.” Spittle flew onto my face as he spat the words at me. When a cruel smile turned up the corners of his mouth, my blood ran cold. Oh, God, I knew that smile. My arms tightened around my breasts, trying to cover myself as I shook in fear. “Don’t you worry about me touching those big tits; you disgust me. What I’m gonna give you, girl, is a reminder of what happens when you fuck with me. You want to burn me and think you can get away with it? It’s time you learned a lesson you’ll never forget.” He turned me away from him, keeping a strong arm around my waist before leaning over to pick something up. He jerked my long ponytail aside, making my scalp sting. Suddenly, my back between the shoulder blades was on fire. I gasped in agony, trying to pull away. The smell of something horrible stung my nose, and as the room started spinning, it hit me; he was burning me with the iron. As oblivion rose, I heard him whisper in my ear, “Cows are always branded so they know who they belong to, and you’ll always belong to me.” I never felt my body make contact with the floor, and when I woke later, my back was still on fire, and I was alone. The bastard had marked me, and the years would never remove his brand from my body or my mind.

I slept in the park the first night I was on my own, and it was the best night I could remember having; I figured the odds of me being attacked were less than they would have been at home. I used the few dollars I managed to take from my mother’s purse to buy Tylenol. Luckily, the store also had a water fountain, and I downed four of them, hoping I wasn’t overdosing. My back was still in agony from the iron. The next day, I applied for a waitress job, and the owner Debra took pity on me and hired me. She also agreed to let me make payments to her weekly on the old Honda she had for sale. Finally, I had somewhere to sleep until school started in the fall. Debra also let me have my meals for free; I suspected it was because she knew I was homeless but never asked. Debra mentioned casually on my second day of employment that the truck stop down the street had showers for the truckers. Her boyfriend Martin owned the place, and she got me a voucher to use their facilities whenever I needed to. Between the truck stop and the laundromat, I had somewhere to spend time other than my car.

I had carefully avoided looking at my back and tried to keep water off it in the shower; a month went by and it no longer stung. On my break one day, I used the restroom at work and finally got brave enough to raise my shirt and turn my back to the mirror. “Oh, my God,” someone whispered behind me. I jerked around to find Debra standing there with murder in her eyes and her hand over her mouth. I pulled my shirt down, cursing myself for not hearing the door open. Debra walked over, pulling me against her. “Who did that to you, Lia?”

Tears started to seep down my cheeks. I wasn’t used to concern or affection, and the sorrow in Debra’s voice was enough to undo me. “It doesn’t matter,” I whispered back. “It’s over now.”

“Oh, baby girl,” Debra said. “It matters because I want to kick someone’s ass. You tell me who did this to you, and Martin and I will do the same damn thing to them.” When she pulled back, I could tell by the look on her face that Debra was deadly serious. In the time I had worked at the restaurant, I had bonded with the outspoken redhead and her boyfriend Martin. She studied my closed expression before releasing an angry breath. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” When I shook my head, Debra raised a hand to wipe away a stray tear from my face. “Is anyone after you now, baby girl?”

“No,” I whispered. “I’m on my own.”

“All right then,” Debra answered. “If anyone bothers you, or whoever the hell did this to you shows up, you tell me or Martin, okay?” I hugged Debra in way of reply and thanked God I had met her; I finally had someone in my life that cared whether I lived or died, and I’d never forget it. As we walked back out into the restaurant and I returned to my job, I tried to block out what I had seen in the bathroom. As promised, Jim had indeed branded me, and the horribly scarred flesh on my back would always be a reminder of a Hell I had barely escaped. Only my dreams would haunt me now because I vowed to never let him close to me again.

Working and being away from Jim had also allowed me to return to my normal eating habits, and the extra weight I had gained for protection had fallen away, leaving a girl I hardly recognized staring back in the mirror. I was slowly returning to the petite size I had always been and was grateful I didn’t appear to have done long-term damage to my body. It was a sad testament to my former life that now, even homeless, I was the happiest I’d ever been. Debra had tried to convince me to move in with her and Martin, but I had refused; I didn’t want to be a burden to them, and I was getting by. I worked mostly nights, so sleeping in my car seemed much safer during daytime hours. I also caught naps in the break room at the restaurant some days.

I hoped I could save enough money by the time school started for living expenses, since my grades won me a full scholarship. God, how naive I had been. My small amount of savings was gone by the end of the first semester, and I had no idea what I was going to do.

St. Claire’s requires that all students live on campus for the first two years. Unfortunately, that wasn’t part of my scholarship; neither was transportation, the cost of books, and other fees. The small, two-bedroom apartment I shared with Megan for a year, and now with Rose, was much cheaper than most apartments, but still expensive. Money had trickled through my hands like water.

I had given up and was planning to drop out of college. Even working two part-time jobs, I couldn’t swing my expenses. Debra had offered to loan me the money, but I couldn’t do it; it was important I make it on my own. My then-roommate Megan had told me she worked for a company called
Date Night
and had offered to put in a good word for me. I had been so desperate to stay in school that I jumped at the chance. Now, three years later, I was just months away from having my degree in business and owed it all to Megan and
Date Night
. As Rose said, there were jerks to deal with in any job, and I considered myself lucky that it was rare in mine. Working for
Date Night
had allowed me to quit my other part-time jobs, which had given me more time for school. I missed Debra terribly but still hung out at the restaurant whenever I had a free day.

Looking at my watch, I blow my nose once more and force myself to stand and head toward my bedroom. After a loud sneeze, I look over my shoulder at Rose and say, “This is one night I would gladly change places if I could. I don’t know if it’s possible for makeup to tone down the Rudolph nose I’m rocking right now.” Looking at my bed longingly, I grumble, “You better tip well, Lucian Quinn, because I would much rather be in my warm bed watching a chick-flick than out with a bunch of rich snobs, drinking wine I would never be able to afford on my own
.”

Trust Me: Lacey Black

Chapter One

Avery

Late. I glance at the watch on my wrist. Yep, I’m late again. But what’s new, right? Mom always likes to tease me saying I’m going to be late for my own funeral. I chuckle out loud at that one as I drive down the familiar country road heading to my family’s Sunday night dinner. Mom has playfully reminded me about my steady tardiness for as far back as I can remember. But hey, at least I’m consistent.

The first time I can recall her lighthearted teasing was when we were supposed to be heading to meet my grandparents for supper when I was about six years old. I can almost hear my brothers and my dad hollering up the stairs for me to hurry up like it was yesterday. We were already twenty minutes late and tension was starting to mount. Our family was heading into the city to go to dinner to celebrate my oldest brother, Jake, getting his license for his sixteenth birthday.

“Avery Elizabeth, you are going to be late for your own funeral,” my mom’s sing-song voice spoke over the group of males in my life as I descended the stairs. They all stopped pacing and grumbling and turned to look at me as I bounced down the stairs with blond pigtails and a big smile on my face. In all honestly, it was a smile that got me whatever I wanted; or
out
of whatever I wanted.

See, when you are the baby of the family with four older brothers, you learn real quick how to turn on the charm to get whatever you need. My oldest brother, Jake, has always been my biggest protector. He was ten years old when I was born and wasn’t exactly happy to see me come along. I battle him almost daily to let me fight my own fights and live my life on my own terms. His need to protect me is so fierce that it’s our biggest issue. Nate, just a year younger, was always Jake’s shadow. Growing up, Jake and Nate were as thick as thieves; where one went, the other was right behind. Stuck in the middle is Will, the smart one. Seven when I came along and always with a book in his hand, I am probably the closest to Will. With his adorable wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, he would read to me every night at bedtime and help me with my homework. Though there are seven years between us, he and I have the most in common and similar personalities. Finally, there’s Travis, the baby of the family for five years. Well, until my mom and dad enjoyed a late honeymoon for their twelfth anniversary which resulted in yours truly.

Mom and Dad met in high school and fell madly in love. When mom tells the story, you can’t help but lay your head in your hands and sit starry eyed with a big love struck grin on your face. They were married when they were nineteen and both worked as much and as hard as possible. Dad was in the family construction business and Mom held a variety of odd jobs around town, but money had been tight in the beginning as it so often is with young love fresh out of high school. Instead they held off on a honeymoon, always saying they would take a big trip “someday”.