Bound by Fate
Authors: Sherilyn Gray
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary
Bound by Fate
The Fate Trilogy Book One
by
Sherilyn Gray
Copyright © 2013
All
rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or
other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of
the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Copyright © 2013
All characters appearing in this
work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.
Warning: This work contains
scenes of graphic sexual nature and it is written for adults only(18+). All
characters depicted in this story are over 18 years of age.
“She has really pretty skin,” whispered a
dark-haired girl to a lighter-haired one.
Well, this was just a bit weird.
The curious eyes of about a dozen young women
stared back at me, assessing me as I stood at the front of the room with my
back to the door. Some were standing barefoot on the plush red carpet, some
were reclined in ornately decorated lounges and chairs neatly arranged about
the room. There were no windows, only lush green walls. The sight of a new girl
probably worked well enough for a view.
When they finally took their fill of my
appearance, they either glanced away or talked in hushed voices with one
another.
I looked down at my small, white full slip.
It was the same slip that the other women in the room wore. Being a little bit
too big for me, the cloth hung awkwardly on my shoulders, but the material was
soft and warm. I picked at it with my fingers, not really knowing what to do
with myself.
I decided to sit down next to a young woman
about my age while I waited. At least, she looked to be. I had the urge to ask
her, but the sour expression on her face let me know she wasn’t in the mood to
talk to anyone. Sighing, I stared back down at my hands. They had
been scrubbed until my skin turned pink, and they still tingled from the soap.
When was the last time they had been so clean? Glancing around, the other women
were just as clean, their bodies appearing smooth and pristine. Had they
been as dirty as I had been?
I leaned my head back against the wall behind
me and closed my eyes. The night that dark car came and brought me here seemed
like an eternity ago, but it was only last night, and one of the coldest nights
in the city to boot...
It had taken me most of that afternoon to
scope out a place that hadn’t already been staked out by other people; the
alleys and eaves of abandoned, but locked, buildings were in places I wouldn’t
dare stay the night, unless I wanted to be found dead and frozen over the next
morning. It had been raining for much of the day, and the clothes I
wore—sweatpants three sizes too big for me, and an old sweatshirt from a high
school I’ve never heard of—were soggy after trudging through puddles and rain
showers.
This had pretty much been the daily routine
for me for the past two years, ever since I woke up in the doorway of a closed
laundromat at the dead of night with no memory of how I got there, or who I
even was. I had been stumbling around the streets of San Francisco fighting for
my survival ever since.
At first I tried to befriend some of the
homeless people who seemed to be young and helpless like me, but the longer I
stayed with them, the more I realized how they could not be trusted. We would
sleep at night in a huddled mass for extra warmth, but by the time I woke up in
the morning I would find myself abandoned; the only possessions I owned were
stolen. Of course, pick on the little naïve girl. This happened to me twice
before I made the decision to never put my trust in any of those people again.
Yesterday had started off no different than
any other day. It was that time of year when the weather was starting to get
cold. I spent most of the morning and afternoon searching for recyclables along
my usual route around the city, ducking into a warm spot every so often to
prevent my fingers from freezing. Standing with a cup in hand asking for change
somehow never sat well with me and I preferred to avoid it when I could. Maybe
it was stupid pride but I felt better whenever the change I got came from the
big green machine by the corner store that spat out coins when you fed it cans
and bottles. It might not have been a big thing, but I still felt like I had a
part in helping out the city.
It was almost dark by the time I found a
deserted alley in an area that I decided was safe enough—at least, in my tired,
freezing, delirious state of mind it seemed pretty damn safe. Sleeping in the
middle of the street seemed safe to me at that point. A dumpster loomed in the
shadows, and as I walked towards it a few fat rats who had found something
tasty to eat underneath it scurried away. Lucky bastards. The last time I ate
out of the dumpster, I was puking my stomach out in the gutter. I couldn’t get
myself to do it again. Sure, that meant that I would be eating less—far
less—and sure, whenever I went into a coffee shop for a bagel I would get
unfriendly glances from customers who would rather not see a dirty homeless
girl while they ate their croissant and drank their soy latte—but it was worth
it.
The dumpster was nasty. It smelled as though
the trash inside hadn’t been emptied out in years. Holding my breath, I opened
the lid and found a stack of discarded cardboard. It didn’t seem like it was
touching anything gross, and there was enough to cover at least most of my body
while I slept. With my teeth chattering from the cold, I took the cardboard out
and set myself up at the far end of the alley, where a chain-linked fence met
the brick walls on either side of me. There was a black garbage bag back there
filled with god-knows-what, and I used it as a pillow as I draped the cardboard
over myself. It wasn’t much, but it would protect me from the rain that
started to drizzle down at least for a little while until the cardboard became
soggy. Hopefully that wouldn’t be until morning.
It took a while until I drifted off into a
fitful sleep underneath my makeshift covers. I didn’t know how long I slept
before I was awoken by the sounds of two car doors slamming shut. By now it had
started raining again and my cardboard blanket clung in a soggy mess around me.
The cold wetness felt as though it had sunk into my skin, causing my bones to
ache. I cracked my eyes open and saw a dark car parked on the side of the
street directly in front of me. I moaned and shifted towards my side, away from
the street, cursing them under my breath for waking me up from my sleep,
mediocre as it was.
I soon heard footsteps approaching me. Fuck,
that wasn’t a good thing. I laid there frozen. “Please go away, please go
away,” I mouthed the words silently. This was my alley. Mine! Go find some
other place to sleep. The footsteps drew nearer and I squeezed my eyes shut
before turning sharply towards the intruders. “Just go the fuck away!” I yelled
at them.
My eyes tried adjusting in the darkness, but
I could only see the shadows of two people. One crouched down next to me and
spoke in a woman’s voice. She was holding an umbrella, and despite the darkness
I could tell she had long hair and wore a heavy coat.
“We are offering you food, shelter, and a
chance for a better life.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. What did she
say? Was I hallucinating? When I remained silent she continued. “If you don’t
want that, then we can give you a hundred dollars and a bus ticket to wherever
you want to go in the country. Either way, we’re offering you help. However, if
you choose to come with us, there is the potential for long term employment
where you can work for your food and board and not have to worry about living
on the streets again.”
My eyes adjusted a bit more to notice the
kind smile on the woman’s lips, and the man who stood behind her, a flashlight
in one hand, and an umbrella in the other. My body was on the verge of shutting
down and all my mind was doing was screaming at me to take this chance for
survival. What was this feeling? A glimmer of hope? Part of me was afraid of
questioning a good thing, of finding out that this was all an illusion. I sat
up, which took more effort than it should. I dimly remembered that I hadn’t
eaten anything since two mornings ago.
“I’ll come with you,” I croaked.
They led me to the car, a sporty SUV with
leather seats. The man opened the door for me and handed me a blanket. I took
it gratefully and wrapped it around myself before stepping into the car. I
couldn’t remember the last time I had been in one. The man took the driver’s
seat, and the woman took the seat in front of me. The car turned on with a
rumble and I was suddenly blasted with hot air from the heater. I sighed
happily and snuggled deeper into the soft blanket, not believing my luck. As
the car pulled into the street I gazed out the window, at the cold, wet,
desolate streets.
I didn’t really care where I was going; I was
just glad to get away from the streets. Never in my life would I miss living
out there.
“What’s your name?” The woman asked me after
we had been driving in silence for a while.
I shrugged and continued looking out the
window. “I have no idea.” I said. “What’s yours?”
“Marian.” There was a smile in her voice, and
I immediately drew a liking to her. No one had ever been so kind to me
before—not that I knew of, at least. The woman named Marian continued, “Do you
know how you ended up in the streets?”
“I can’t remember anything.”
“Your age?”
“Not sure. Maybe twenty, definitely less than
thirty.”
“Your family? Parents?”
“I have no memories of them.”
“Interesting.”
It was my turn to ask a question. “Why are you helping me?”
“I believe that everybody should be given a
chance to succeed in life,” she told me.
I must’ve dozed off because when I awoke, the
sun began to rise as the driver parked in front of an old, three-story
Victorian building. I almost didn’t want to get out of the car because it was
so warm and cozy, but the driver came around to my side and opened the door for
me. A cold wind swept into the car, forcing me out. I still clutched the
blanket around me as I followed the two into the building.
No longer dark, I could make out the
appearances of Marian and the driver more clearly. Marian looked to be
middle-age, maybe in her forties. She had long, wavy brown hair that ended a
few inches below her shoulders and matching hazel eyes. Her lips curved into a
warm smile when she noticed me admiring her fur coat. It looked so warm and
comfy. The driver was an older gentleman, his head nearly bald except for a bit
of gray around the edges.
Although the exterior didn’t seem that fancy,
as I stepped inside I was reminded of a picture I once saw in a discarded
magazine that showed the interior of lavish mansions in Europe. Large oil
paintings of abstract landscapes in detailed gold frames lined the
cream-colored walls, heavy amber drapes hung from windows adding to the warm
light that filtered in, and a winding staircase with marble balusters to each
side was at the opposite end of the front door. Without giving me time to
admire my surroundings, Marian ushered me down a large hallway, passing by
large antique vases seated atop waist-high pillars. Her heels clacked with each
step against the sage marble floor and that’s when I noticed that she was
wearing black high heels. At the end of the hall, she led me to a room on the
right. There was a large table with a few other women seated in ornate chairs,
eating something that looked absolutely mouth watering.
“Sit down here and we’ll bring out something
to eat,” Marion said, pointing at a chair closest to where we stood.
I took an empty seat at the corner of the
table and almost instantly I was served the most delicious looking food I had
ever seen; I was almost positive I was looking at a meatloaf with a heaping
side of buttery mashed potatoes. I stared down at it in disbelief before taking
my fork and stabbing the slab of meat right in the middle. Lifting the entire
piece to my face, I took a big bite and started chewing. My stomach growled
happily as I swallowed and continued eating. I didn’t know if it was the hunger
talking, but the meatloaf might have been the best thing I’d ever tasted. A
pitcher of water had been placed in front of me. I poured myself a glass and
drank most of it with one breath.
My body, however, wasn’t used to so much
food, and it only took a few more bites before my stomach told me it couldn’t
hold any more. I stared regretfully down at my half eaten plate before it was
taken away from me and I was yet again ushered into a different room.
Marion appeared at my side again but this
time without her fur coat and had a clipboard in hand. I swear she was some
kind of magician with the way she would appear and disappear in the blink of an
eye. We were in a hot, steamy room with wall-to-wall showers.
“I want you to scrub as much of that dirt
from your body as you can,” she instructed me. “There’s shampoo, conditioner,
and soap that you’re free to use. I’ll come get you in a bit to inspect you.
Remember, clean
everywhere
.”
Some of the women I saw earlier were walking
around naked outside the showers, eyeing me with the same curiosity I gave
them. Why were they all here?
I put my blanket on a chair and slowly took
my sweatpants and sweatshirt off, tossing them in a heap on the ground.
I was all too aware of my naked body in plain
sight of others. Even though nobody was openly staring at me, it was a strange,
vulnerable feeling, and I quickly made my way to one of the shower stalls; it
didn’t have a curtain or anything fancy, but the two plastic walls on either
side of me made me feel a little less exposed. I tentatively turned on the
shower and a blast of hot water spewed out at me. I jumped and immediately
ducked my head underneath the water. Never before had water felt so good. I
rubbed my hands up and down my body, the dirt and grime that had been caked on
to me from years of sleeping outside rinsed away like paint, making a dark,
swirling pattern as it drained underneath my feet. Two bottles of what I assumed
were shampoo and conditioner were sitting on a little shelf built into the
wall. Not knowing which was which, I used them at random, taking a sniff of
each one before using it. They both smelled like the flower shop on Market
Street I used to pass by every morning.