by Sandra Raine
The HUSH Series is an Independent work of FICTION
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Devlin De La Chapa
writing under the pseudonym "Sandra Raine"
All Rights Reserved. Self-Published in the United States by Devlin De La Chapa, USA. Originally published in digital print in the United States by Devlin De La Chapa, USA in 2015.
Book Cover Courtesy of Google Images
Exterior Book Covers Courtesy of Google and Yahoo! Images
Book Design/Editing Devlin De La Chapa
for additional information on The HUSH Series, please visit: TheHUSHSaga.com
ISBN-13: 978-1523416578
First Edition. Printed in the United States of America.
2 1
inside The HUSH Series
a Forward on HUSH. . . . . . . . . .7
HUSH. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .9
HUSHED. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .448
JANE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .579
The DiamonD Series. . . . . . . .815
From the Author, a forward on HUSH:
After careful consideration, I have decided NOT to revise HUSH as I’ve decided to leave HUSH right where it’s at. So to all those who might or may have anticipated a HUSH revision, I do apologize immensely.
The decision to not revise HUSH was not only from within me but was also decided with the help of a very unlikely source, who by all accounts, actually opened my eyes which allowed me to understand that while HUSH deals with a 14~15 year old teenage girl, giving her an adult (narrative) voice would not make her story believable even though HUSH is purely fictional. So, with that stipulated and said, HUSH will remain “as is” – Grammatical and Punctuation errors, and all that makes readers of novel perfection cringe!
But rest assured, that as HUSH’s MC Jane matures, her (narrative) voice will mature as well, in the novels that follow.
Thank you for your patience and understanding and continued support in The HUSH Series. I am truly and eternally grateful.
Sincerely,
Devlin De La Chapa
07/25/2016
10:15 A.M.
Hush
your forbidden fruit
sits comical in a
glasshouse bowl
in the middle
of a kitchen’s table
you are timeless
in irreconcilable measures
it is truly an honor
to watch you shatter
beneath the first stone cast
to say ‘I will get mine
even if I have
to chew you up
and spit you out’
is the inner sanctity ruled
by the predators of men
Devlin De La Chapa, 2013
Chapter 1
January 1st, 2011 -
When you're part of a crew, part of something that's bigger than you, something that's been here longer than you it's not easy to throw up your hands and say, 'Okay. That's it! I quit!' it just doesn't happen, not in the world I live in or in any world ruled by coercion, deception, exploitation, corruption and addiction, and the chances of you walking away alive are slim-to-none.
It's just after New Year's. The man sitting to my right is a businessman who doesn't bargain. The guy sitting to my left is a business major in one of the most expensive universities in America. The man sitting caddy corner to my right is a prosecutor who doesn't reason. And the guy sitting caddy corner to my left, and always the driver, is blessed with an arm the skin Gods would kill for.
On the surface, and to the unskilled eye, these men would be perceived as gifted and prominent, worthy to society and all its prominence. But just below that surface and to the more skilled and inhumane eye, these men are evil at its finest. There's a Spanish saying that goes: The Devil knows who to present himself to and in this case me, the unfortunate Angel.
The streets are long and lonely while houses beam with glittering Christmas lights and warm family gatherings to bring in the New Year in Scottsdale. Stores are closed. Plazas are empty. A gas station or the occasional liquor store is the norm of holiday "open" in such a little big city.
I didn't know how long we'd been driving around for but I was starting to feel cold in my red strapless party dress and strappy gold heels and nothing else. There was a draft swaying around in the car even though the heater was blowing rather warm. The driver was smoking and he did have the window cracked open to allow the smoke to escape which explained the draft. I shivered in my seat but I made no move to indicate I was cold.
Somewhere within the car a cell phone rings and the businessman immediately picks it up. He turns his cheek and speaks tenderly into the receiver. My eyes falter for a moment to the rearview mirror since they'd been staring straight ahead for the last forty minutes or so. The nerves in my stomach unexpectedly flutter when the driver's eyes lock onto mine which, and to my amazement, still brought me comfort.
Eventually he did look away and I looked away and my heart broke.
I closed my eyes and remembered my first crush of him, my first kiss with him and the love I surrendered to him: the driver. The guy blessed with the arm. The guy the skin Gods would kill for.
Within the private of my gullible thoughts and the life I had envisioned before with him was nothing to the life I was living now with him. I guess I was just one of those silly girls caught up in a fantasy that all girls fantasized about, often followed by that often heartbreaking fairytale of marriage, family and eternal happiness. But now as I sat here statuesque almost a year and half later looking nineteen as opposed to sixteen, alone, stolen, broken; unbecoming, undignified, unsanctimonious had I still longed for that fairytale with him.
My eyes suddenly shot open with reality settling in.
The car parked. The engine turned off. All the car doors simultaneously swung open with the men quickly stepping off and taking me with them. The prosecutor then took me by the arm and together we followed the businessman into the lobby of an upscale hotel. We then casually strolled past the desk clerk, a heavy set man in his late thirties with dirty blond hair and passive blue eyes who barely stiffened a nod in our direction particularly at the businessman who returned the same gesture.
A couple in their fifties, I presumed, then casually strolled past us, snuggled and content against one another while the intoxication of the beautiful woman's expensive perfume breezed past my senses bringing about a certain envy within me. I turned my head around to gaze at the woman with the woman doing likewise as if we were two souls bounded to one another for reasons unexplained, 'cause just for a moment did we become one with each other. And just for a moment I wondered if she saw the pain in my eyes?
The prosecutor grunted and tightened his grasp around my arm and quickly ushered me into the elevator. I took it by his cruel silent action that he was not pleased that my gaze had wandered. I took my place in the center of the elevator and held myself firm.
The elevator doors opened up on the sixth floor of a penthouse suite. The prosecutor took hold of my arm again and led me to the door. There was a do not disturb sign hanging on the brass plated knob. The prosecutor gave the door a swift knock. The door slowly opened with a man as old as the prosecutor holding a drink, nodding and smiling. His smile then broadened with approval when his eyes swept over my presence; I immediately shied from him.
I hated when they, those men, those "John's" looked at me like that w
ith interest 'cause they weren't really looking at me they were looking through me; through windowless eyes possessing souls that possessed no souls; eyes I instantly recognized on men of no conscience, no fear of consequence or of God, forever deeming themselves righteous and religious despite their hidden weaknesses behind their families, their communities, their churches, their good names.
The businessman and the driver ushered that same man toward the center of the open living room and soon they began to converse leaving the prosecutor and the business major by my side to keep watchful eye of the men who were busy keeping an interest eye on me.
There must've been at least nine men inhibiting the spacious suite. Some were dressed in their holiday attire and others were casual. They were well groomed and kept and they smelled of money which explained the expensive hotel.
I tried hard not to make eye contact with any of the men simply because I didn't care to know what they looked like or who they were personally or what they wanted. To me it was the comparable in any town, in any city, in any other hotel or motel room - they didn't care to know me as I didn't care to know them as it was all about the money and the sex of a young girl.
From the corner of my eye I glimpsed the man handing the businessman a thick letter sized manila envelope and the two nodded and parted ways with the businessman gesturing the prosecutor toward a room just across the living room. The prosecutor nodded, grabbed my arm and led me to the room which was a bedroom.
It always took me a few seconds whenever a room was foreign to me to take that initial step forward and case the room, case my surroundings, in case I found myself in a predicament I would have somewhere to protect myself. The room was grand with a private balcony. The bed, king sized. The furniture, good quality with the master bath, white and roomy.
I crossed to the other side of the room and settled my purse on the dresser. I unzipped it and pulled out my cosmetic's case. I surveyed myself in the mirror from my hair to my make-up to my dress. Again I shivered, trying hard to comfort myself from the shame and embarrassment and the all too familiar horror that tended to await me at the turn of a door knob.
I glanced through the dresser's mirror and the man who had dealt with the businessman earlier was now standing at the bedroom door. He shot me a smirk, downed the rest of his drink and settled the empty glass onto a nearby table and began to unfasten his tie. I ignored the man and unzipped my cosmetic’s case and pulled out a bottle of valium, popped a pill into my mouth and swallowed hard. My face then soured from the coarse taste of raw medicine inching its way down my throat. And the man must've thought my expression was in regards to him 'cause he mumbled something about him being "gentle" and "polite" while in my company; and I really didn't care to hear it 'cause to me it was something a pedophile would say when handing his victim a Barbie: Anything to shut the little girl up.
I slowly stepped away from the dresser and faced the man who was now unbuckling the belt from around his trousers. I took a deep breath and strained a smile while I reached for the zipper on the side of my dress. The man sensing my apprehension and me sensing his impatience, the man crossed to me in hastened steps and shoved more money into my hand.
Yeah, I admitted honestly as I stared down at the crisp clean bills that this man was truly a pedophile, and me, his victim - the little girl being handed her Barbie. Anything to get me into bed. Anything to get him to crawl on top of me. Anything. . .
Chapter 2
October, 2009 -
My new life started in Tanya Ray's bedroom.
Tanya was a Junior at our high school. She was sixteen and the Captain of my cheerleading squad who approached me one day after practice to say she was impressed on the way I moved, how I wasn't afraid to sway my hips a little while the other girls moved like Zombies. She made me laugh. But my laugh should've been more of a red flag rather than flattery.
Within days Tanya and I became the best of friends. We kicked it at school, after school, at the mall, at the football games. We talked and texted constantly on our cells. We shopped every weekend, and we went to all the school parties. We were totally inseparable until the night Tanya's parents went out of town and I agreed to a sleepover.
I was lounging in Tanya's bedroom when her brother Dominic, the starting Quarterback on our high school's football team, walked into her bedroom and started flirting with me which I thought was odd considering he never looked in my direction be it at school or whenever I visited Tanya.
I was uncomfortable being in Dominic's towering presence: He was 6'1 and 187 pounds of pure athletic muscle. And aside from being one of the hottest guys in my school with his infectious smile, his gifted charm and brisk hazel eyes, he had a girlfriend named Toni who was just as equally hot as he was.
But tonight of all nights I couldn't comprehend his intentions with me until he casually sat down beside me on Tanya's bed and stole a kiss from my lips which took me totally by surprise and flattered my ego. And even though the kiss was rather exciting 'cause it was my first kiss, I couldn't help but to indulge when he leaned in and stole another.
From one moment to the next, I was now lying on Tanya's bed with Dominic on top of me. The intensity of our kissing ultimately lead him to do the unthinkable: He started feeling on my breasts, in between my legs, on my butt. And somewhere within all his feeling on me his fingers began to unbutton my blouse as well as my jeans. And as much as I wanted to get up from Tanya's bed and run 'cause I was scared and inexperienced and feeling shame for what I was doing, I couldn't. I found I was too busy enjoying myself to understand the consequences that would soon haunt me. So I continued to lay there beneath Dominic until his hands triumphed into getting me completely naked.
Somewhere within my newfound passion I tried explaining to Dominic that I was a virgin and I wanted him to take his time with me. But he just ignored me and continued kissing on me and feeling on me and so I dismissed my pleas to him. I figured he knew what he was doing considering his experience just by the way he was handling me, just by the way he wasn't shy about stripping away his clothes and exposing himself to me.
I had to admit Dominic had a beautiful body and a beautiful penis 'cause he felt so damn beautiful against me. But then that beauty faded the moment he pinned both my arms over my head, pried my legs apart with his and shoved himself inside of me. And what I thought would be a pleasant experience turned horrific the second I felt my flesh tear.
Dominic quickly slapped one hand over my mouth to keep me from crying out while he continued to shove himself deeper inside of me. Between the sheer horror in my eyes and my muffled cries, my grief left Dominic feeling less-than compassionate 'cause he refused to look at me especially when he continued to penetrate me deeper and deeper.
Eventually I stopped crying but that was after my flesh no longer felt like it was being ripped apart. Aside from tears of shame, anguish and regret streaking down the corners of my eyes, Dominic finally removed his hand from my mouth. Seconds later, I then felt his penis suddenly slip out from inside me. And with that same hand Dominic had pressed down over my mouth, he quickly reached down and grabbed himself had I then felt something warm and wet oozing over my stomach.
"Uhh. . .mmm," Dominic then groaned sensually into my ear as he continued to breathe heavy but more steadily than before. And while I yearned to have felt that exact same way Dominic was felt, I couldn't. Instead I found I was troubled by the whole entire thing.
Dominic raised his head and smiled down at me. He then kissed me brusque on the cheek, jumped off the bed and walked to Tanya's bathroom like nothing awful had just happened. A second later he emerged wiping himself with a towel. I quickly sat up but flinched when I felt a pressure from within me tense up. My face soured and I moaned.
"It hurts the first time," Dominic Ray, the star Quarterback, the hottest and most popular guy at our high school cared to say. "Here," he said handing me the dirty towel, "clean up."
I nodded and felt for the cleanest spot on the towel. But
before I dabbed it over my stomach I made it a point to touch the milky film which almost instantly dried between my thumb and forefinger. From a close distance I could smell its scent somewhat pleasant and brackish.
"It's cum. Taste it," Dominic then urged with a devious smirk as he slipped back into his jeans, his white muscle tee and his football Jersey. I touched my fingers to my tongue and it tasted just the way it smelled. "Next time you can suck on my cock and swallow my cum." he proposed with that same devious smirk. I looked up at him appalled.
"Excuse me?" And I must've sounded mortified as well 'cause Dominic chuckled as he picked up his Jordan’s from off the floor and slipped back into them. "What do you mean by 'next time'?" I pried 'cause according to me there wasn't going to be “a next time” especially if sex felt the way it felt with Dominic. I mean, and suddenly I found I was confused: True, I've seen my share of people having sex in TV shows and in movies thus leaving my imagination to believe that there was some kind of pleasure or else there’d be no adult scenes. And nowhere had I ever seen a high school girl or a woman for that matter being tormented by the same pain I had just experienced while their boyfriends were thrusting away on top of them. I mean, did I missing something? Did I do something wrong? Did Dominic do something wrong? Or was sex really like this for every female and they just didn't tell you?
"Yeah, next time," Dominic retorted seriously pulling me from my thoughts. I shook my head in protest and that's when he grabbed my chin and threatened firmly, "There will be a next time, Jane, or else?"
"Or. . .else. . . what?" I challenged as I abruptly pulled back from his hardened grasp. And no sooner did Dominic lay me out flat on the bed with me quickly rolling over on my back and staring up at him in a state of shock and awe while my right cheek burned - I never had a guy backhand me before. Not even my father or my brother whenever I stepped out of line with them. But Dominic?
