Violet is Blue (Hothouse series) (12 page)

I landed on the hard dirt-packed ground on my back. The air exploded from my lungs. It felt like someone had kicked me hard between the shoulder blades.

Mark had a hold of my leg and was pulling me toward the fence. Toward him.

Despite the pain exploding inside of me, I sat up and kicked at his hand.  His nails raked my shin, but I kept kicking and kicking, until he let go. I scrambled to me feet.

“There’s nowhere to run, darling. If you go home, I’ll just have to hurt your mother. You don’t want that to happen do you?”

I didn’t believe him. He was just trying to scare me. The safest place for me was at home. With that in mind, I turned and sprinted across the grass, heading toward the far gate and my salvation.

My arm throbbed.  I had a long oozing gash in my forearm. But I pushed it out of my mind and concentrated on my legs. On getting them to pump faster and harder.  I didn’t risk looking behind me to see if Mark was following.  I needed to focus on what was ahead.

I tried to find a straight path through the dark cemetery, but it proved difficult, and I had to dash around headstones and simple white crosses stuck in the ground.  One false move and I would end up back on the ground. Thankfully the moon came out from behind some clouds and bathed the area in its pale light.

I could make out the far gate. It was only fifty feet away. Elation filled me. Maybe I would make it.  Maybe everything would be all right.

With that foolish thought in my mind, I did the unthinkable and made a quick glance back over my shoulder.  Mark was not behind me. In fact I couldn’t see him anywhere.  I was filled with hope as I turned my head back around. Then my foot came down on a rock and I twisted my ankle. I fell onto the ground, sprawling face first into a headstone.  I threw my hands out to break my fall so I luckily didn’t smash my skull into the concrete.

I lay there for a moment, gathering my wits. Pain zinged up from my ankle and my knees which I knew were all scraped up and bloodied.  I had to catch my breath if I was going to get up and keep going.  My body was crashing. It didn’t want to move. It wanted to lay there and rest.

I flipped over onto my back, staring up at the starry sky wishing I could just stay there.  Many nights my dad and I had done just this. Laying on our backs stargazing and giggling about all the constellations he made up names for. It was a wonderful memory, and one I didn’t want to destroy by lying here in pain, on the run from the psychopath who had killed him.

I half rolled to the side, so I could sit up. Just as I did, a shadow loomed over me.

“Going somewhere?” He bent over to grab me by the hair.

I screamed and kicked out at him. I connected with his knee and he buckled.  I got up quickly and smashed the top of my head into his chin.  It hurt and I saw spots, but it was worth the grunt of pain I heard from him.

Before I could get away though, he grabbed a chunk of my hair and yanked me backward. I collided with him and he put his arm around me, keeping me in place, my back pressed against his chest.

“Don’t fight me, Violet. I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I struggled even more at his words.  “How can you love me when you’re doing this? You’re a sick bastard!”

He spun me around and slapped me hard across the face. The blow whipped my head to the side. The sting on my cheek was harsh. I tasted blood in my mouth. I think my lip had split open.

“Mind your manners, little girl. You will not speak to me like that.”

I gathered up spit and the blood in my mouth and spat at him. “Fuck you.”

A big glob hit him on the chin, and I grinned at that.

He struck me again. Harder. I stumbled to the right from the blow. He then grabbed me by the upper arms, and crushed his mouth to mine.

I shook my head, trying to get away, but he grabbed my face in his hands and held me there while he raped my mouth with his tongue and teeth. I could taste coffee and smoke in his saliva.  I had no idea he was a smoker. Just one more thing in a long list of things that he’d kept hidden.

“You love me Violet. I know you do. I was your daddy when you needed me, now I can be so much more.”

I cringed when he leered at me. His look was one of hunger and dominance. He didn’t love me. He didn’t even understand what the word actually meant. He was a monster. And I wanted to kill him for what he’d done to me and my mom.

But I could barely even keep on my feet.

I was so tired, and pain punched me from five different places. It took everything I had just to stand there in front of him. When what I wanted to do was fall. And stay fallen.

I didn’t have any fight left in me.

So when he kissed me again, I didn’t struggle. I just stood there, numb, eyes closed hoping that it would all disappear.  As he assaulted me I could hear the faint wail of sirens in the background.  I wondered if there was a fire nearby. I hoped there wasn’t. Maybe it was just a small car accident or something like that.

The sound got louder.  Until I thought maybe it was close by. I opened my eyes. It was police. They were coming to rescue.

“Mark, let her go.”

It was Patrick’s voice behind me.

Mark spun me around, and put an arm around my neck, so basically I was his human shield as Patrick aimed his gun at him.

Behind Patrick I spotted Devon standing there, watching what was going on. His shirt was red from blood and his arm was in a makeshift sling.  I wanted to run to him. To wrap my arms around him and kiss him. To feel the warmth of his body on mine.  I didn’t realize how much I really needed him in my life until this moment. I hoped I would get a chance to tell him that.

“There’s nowhere to go, Mark. This is over.”

Other cops stepped out of the shadows, their hands on the butts of their holstered guns.

Mark took a few steps back, dragging me with him.  “I’ll kill her.”

“You don’t want to do that, Mark. You love Violet.”

I could feel Mark’s heart pounding and his breathing was labored. He was starting to panic. His body was vibrating with it.

“Violet?” Patrick looked me in the eyes. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head.  Tears rolled down my cheeks. I was going to die. I could feel death creeping up on me.

“I’ll let her go, if you give me the boy.”

Oh God, not Devon
.

“Not going to happen, Mark. Just let Violet go and it will go better for you.”

“It was better. Just me and Hannah and Violet.” He rubbed his face into the side of my head. I wanted to vomit. My stomach lurched. “She was such a beautiful little girl. And I loved her like a father should. Then she grew up.”  His arm tightened around my neck.  “And started prancing around in skimpy clothes. I couldn’t help but see her as a woman. Any man would.”

“Stop it!” Devon pushed past Patrick. “I’ll go with you. Just let her go.”

“Devon. Don’t be stupid. You’re not helping,” Patrick said.

But he wasn’t listening. He stared right into my eyes as he took another few steps forward.  “Let Violet go.”

But I knew Mark would never let me go.

Instead, he pulled out the gun from his waistband and pointed it at Devon. I didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling.

“No!” I screamed, as I scraped the heel of my shoe into Mark’s shin.

His grip on me loosened, and it was all I needed to drop to the ground.

A shot fired by the time I hit the dirt. I turned my head, thinking I was going to see Devon on the ground with me, with a bullet hole in his head.  But I didn’t. I was looking at his boots as he came running toward me.

I turned my head the other way to see Mark sprawled across a headstone. Blood splattered the inscription on the concrete. His eyes were open but he wasn’t looking at me anymore.  His gaze was empty.

Patrick and the other cops swarmed around his body, checking for vitals, and collecting his weapon.

“Are you okay?” Devon knelt on the ground next to me. He reached for me. I let him gather me in his arms although every movement I made my body screamed in agony. I didn’t care. I just wanted him to hold me.

“No,” I murmured into his chest.

He stroked a hand over my hair. “You will be. I’ll make sure of it.”

I lifted my arms and wrapped them around him, holding him tight, clinging to him for dear life. I buried my face into his chest, and wept.  It wasn’t because I was sad. No it was because I believed him.

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T
here was a slight breeze in the warm air. I raised my face to it and smelled the scent of jasmine. I smiled.  That odor never failed to make me happy. It meant I was with my father.

I stretched out my legs and glanced over at Devon. He was lying on his back on the grass near my father’s headstone. He had on dark sunglasses and he was grinning at me.  He reached over with his good arm and tugged me down to him.  I nuzzled into his side and set my hand on his chest careful not to jostle his other shoulder too much.

It had been two weeks since that night in the cemetery.  The bruises on my face had disappeared finally. The stiches in my forearm had come out the day before, but the wound was still tender and raw.  The doctor told me it would be another two weeks before it would be fully healed. But I would have a deep scar.

I had lots of scars but they weren’t on my skin.

They were deep and raw and still throbbed from time to time.

My therapist told me eventually those would heal too.  Sometimes, on days like these, I believed her.

“How’s your mom doing?” Devon asked, as he played with the ends of my hair.

“She’s dealing. She still blames herself for everything.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

My mom was seeing my therapist too, but I think she was having a harder time than I was.  She blamed herself. For marrying Mark. For not seeing him for who he truly was. For all the pain and suffering he inflicted on me. For my father’s death.

I told her every day it wasn’t her fault, but I knew she’d harbor that guilt for the rest of her life.

“I heard Jordan is out of his coma,” he said.

“Yeah. Marissa told me.”

“Are you going to go see him?”

“I don’t know.” I ran my hand over his chest. “I probably should, but I feel like it’s my fault.”

He grabbed my hand. “It’s not your fault.  The police still don’t know if it was Mark that beat him up or someone else he pissed off.”

“I know, it’s just...”

“You don’t owe him your guilt, Violet. He was a dick to you.”

I nodded, and snuggled in closer to him.  He was the most loving guy I’d ever known. You’d never have noticed it by looking at him, but he had the biggest heart of anyone I had ever met.

And what he didn’t know yet, as I hadn’t told him, but I’d applied and gotten accepted to UCLA so I didn’t have to move across the country away from him, or my mom. She definitely still needed me.

“Pat told me about Mark’s secret apartment.”

Patrick and Devon had managed to bond over the shared tragic experience. It was funny to me to see the two of them together, talking and laughing, sharing a beer or two. The bad boy and the cop. BFFs for life.

I found out that Patrick was married and had a baby on the way. He was a great guy and he’d been so wonderful with my mom and me when it came to the investigation into Mark and he’d shared everything he found.  Including the secret bank account in the Caymans that contained close to two million dollars.  We weren’t able to keep it all, but most of it, since in Mark’s will he’d named me as the sole beneficiary.  I was now officially a millionairess.

I nodded against his chest. “Yeah, it was going on for years I guess. He was living two lives. It’s weird what goes on inside of people. You never really know anyone.”

He turned his head and kissed the top of my head. “You know me though, right?”

“Yeah,” I laughed. “You’re easy to read. You have three interests in life. Music. Video games and...”

“You.”

He wrapped an arm around me, and rolled me over onto my back, so he was leaning on an elbow looking down at me.

“And me.” I smiled.

He leaned down to my lips and gently pressed his to them. It was a soft, loving kiss. And it was the first time I’d let him since that night.

“I think I’m in love with you Violet.”

“Yeah?”

“Is that okay? It’s not too much, is it?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s perfect.”  I raised my head and kissed him back.

And for the rest of the afternoon, we laid on the grass near my father’s grave and talked about what came next.

Look for the next story in the Hothouse series...

DAHLIA BY DESIGN – June 2014

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

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T
awny Stokes has always been a writer.  From an early age, she’d spin tales of serial killers in love, vampires taking over the world, and sometimes about fluffy bunnies turned bunnicidal maniacs.  An honour student in high school, with a penchant for math and English, you’d never know it by the foot high blue Mohawk and Doc Martens, which often got her into trouble.  No longer a Mohawk wearer, Tawny still enjoys old school punk rock, trance, zombie movies, teen horror films, and fluffy bunnies.  She lives in Canada with her fantastical daughter, two cats, and spends most of her time creating new stories for teens.

Tawny also writes adult paranormal/urban fantasy fiction under the name Vivi Anna, and is a screenwriter and TV writer.

Website:
http://www.tawnystokes.com

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OTHER WORKS BY THE AUTHOR:

Static

Electric

Demons of the Rich and Famous

Dating After Dark (With Clowns)

Carnival World, episode 1

Carnival World, episode 2

Carnival World, episode 3

Carnival World Boxed Set (Epi 1-3)

Supernatural Six Boxed Set (6 paranormal romances)