Diamond In The Rough: The Complete Series

by Hart, Rebel

  “I know you can. With help, Mom. So you’ll take their help once they get here. Or I move out. Your choice.”

  “You’re more like your father every day, you know.”

  I shrugged. “And if that means fighting for my own life when you won’t even fight for yours, then so be it.”

  I left my mother to her choice and walked back upstairs. I gathered my things, shoving them into my purse. I packed a change of clothes and my phone charger. A few toiletries. I packed down my purse in case I got the opportunity to stay somewhere else. Then I grabbed my backpack for good measure. I reached for the bike Allison had loaned me and walked it up the driveway, listening to sirens roar in the distance. And as I walked up the street, I turned to look back. To take one last look at my house before I went to work.

  Committing it to memory, in case I never saw it again.

  I felt numb. As I peddled out of the neighborhood, I felt the rest of my body grow numb. An ambulance and two police cars raced by me. I didn’t even stop to watch them as they made their way into the neighborhood. I didn’t even debate on whether or not to skip work and stay with Mom. Because I knew my time was better spent earning money to get me the hell away from this place. I peddled faster. I broke a sweat getting to work. I let my worries about Clint and my mother and D.J. and my future fall to the wayside as I cycled into the parking lot.

  I chained up Allison’s bike and walked into the grocery store, leaving my proverbial baggage outside as I went to put my backpack and purse underneath my register.

  25

  Clinton

  I hissed as I moved the ice packs. Three of them, to be exact. Sliding around my body as bruises kicked up, grew hot, then subsided into nothing but a dull ache. As I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling, I laughed bitterly to myself. It was a wonder no bones had been broken. That, miraculously, I wasn’t bleeding all over the place.

  Because judging by the state of things downstairs, Dad had really tossed me around.

  Pictures crashed to the ground and dents were impacted into the walls. The banister was crooked now, cracked in three separate places. Now, I didn’t know much about moving. But I figured the new tenants of this place wouldn't be happy with the destruction. Which meant that my beating had bought me a little more time in this place.

  Unless Dad dropped the price of the house for them substantially.

  That was the furthest thing from my mind, though. The only thing I focused on was the ceiling while Cecilia and Dad yelled at one another downstairs. Hearing her angry voice waft through the floor was definitely a treat. One I thought I’d never hear again. But I supposed she had gotten her footing. Found the courage to stand up to my father after waking me up in my bed.

  How I got here, however, I still didn’t know.

  All I knew was that when I opened my eyes, I saw her. Cecilia. The image of Rae faded away and was replaced by the face of a woman that had been more my mother than my own had ever been. And even though concern was etched across her face, anger flooded her eyes.

  Anger she now unleashed against my father.

  “You’ve gone too far, Howard. You should be jailed for this!”

  “And you’d go back to living on the street. What are you going to do, huh? Have sex with men for money? You’re not even good at it, Cece!”

  “And you're even more abusive than my father, you pretentious asshole!”

  They argued for a little while longer. Then the front door slammed. The only reason I knew that Cecilia had stayed behind was because I heard her still screaming downstairs. Still yelling at nothing as my father peeled out of the driveway. I tossed the ice packs off to the side. I needed a shower. Something to flood rejuvenation back through my pulsing muscles.

  Anything to get my mind off the shitstorm of my life.

  I eased myself out of bed and stripped out of my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor as my phone continued lighting up in my back pocket. I saw it flashing on the floor. Notification after notification. People wanting me to meet them as soon as possible to pick up the things I was selling. I cast it off to the side, though, as I turned on the water as hot as I could stand it and eased myself underneath the waterfall stream.

  “That’s it.”

  I groaned as I settled down onto the floor. With my legs outstretched and the water pouring over me, I opened myself up to a stream that hurt before it cleansed. And as I sat there, my mind swirled with so many things.

  All the things I had to get done.

  I had to get those people their items. Collect my money. Damn it, I still needed to get to the bank. What did Rae do with that money? I had to call her and figure out where it was so I could pick it up. I didn’t want anyone feeling responsible for that kind of money for very long. It came with a heavy burden and a constant paranoia I didn’t want anyone else experiencing. I had to figure out what kind of deal I could strike with Mike’s parents. Because I didn’t want to freeload off them. And with the damage done to the downstairs, I wondered how much free time that bought me to sell off more things.

  “Shit.”

  The hot water made me feel clean again. But the dirt settled back in the second I turned off the water. I heaved myself off the floor and out of the shower, settling back into a life my father had carved out for me. The dumbass bathroom he’d renovated two years ago for my birthday. Before he left for a month to be anywhere else other than here, celebrating it with me. A bedroom he’d decked out with expensive items, gifts to apologize for every bruise I’d grown up with. This bedroom had become a museum to the pain he’d caused me, the pain I lived with every day. And as I stared at my mahogany bed frame and matching dresser, it made me sick to think about.

  “I’m selling it all.”

  I wrenched my phone off the floor and started snapping pictures. Then I started responding to those who had already claimed items online. I made appointments for tonight, telling them I’d knock fifteen percent off the price if they met me between eight and ten o’clock on the corner of my street. I watched them respond with fervor, taking me up on my offer and thanking me for this reason or that.

  I didn’t care about the reasons. I only cared about the money.

  I slipped into a clean pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. The hot water loosened my body up a bit, though I was still very bruised. I slipped my cell phone into my pocket and put my sandals on. I needed to start gathering things in my duffle bag for later. However, a knock came at my door. A small, soft, subtle knock.

  “Come in.”

  The door eased open. “How are you feeling?”

  I snickered. “Uh, good considering?”

  “I suppose that was a stupid question.”

  I sighed. “It’s not stupid. We’re just in a hard situation. How are you doing?”

  And when she let out a shuddering breath, I looked over at her.

  “I’ve decided to leave him, Clint.”

  I rushed over to her and wrapped her up in my arms. I held her close, rocking her softly side to side. She sniffled against my chest and patted my back. I closed my eyes and silently thanked my fucking stars she’d come to her senses. I knew this was a turning point for us. A moment in time we’d never forget. I knew she was trembling with fear. But I also knew how strong she was. How far she’d come in life. What she had survived.

  “We’re going to make it. I swear to you, Cecilia.”

  She sighed. “After what just happened…”

  She shook her head as she pulled away from me.

  “I can’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him, Clinton. I mean, look at you. Just—just look at you.”

  I nodded slowly. “I know. Trust me, I’ve lived with it my whole life.”

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t intervene sooner.”

  “No, no, no. Don’t you start doing that. Don’t you start blaming yourself for things we can’t change. You’ve done a hell of a lot for me. More than any other adult in my entire life. I won’t let you feel guilty for anythin
g else.”

  She sniffled. “I love you. I hope you know that.”

  I grinned. “I know. I love you too, Cecilia. Now, come on. I’ll help you pack. Because you damn well know we aren’t keeping this house.”

  “I wouldn’t want to stay in it anyway.”

  “Honestly? I feel the same way at this point.”

  We walked out of my room and down the hallway, heading for the double doors. I’d only ever been in my father’s room once. One time, in my entire life. She threw the doors open and it was even bigger than I remembered. A sprawling room, easily three times the size of my bedroom. Cecilia walked through it as if it didn’t faze her. As if the grandeur of it all didn’t shock her in the slightest. She walked over to a door in the corner and opened it up, flicking a light on that seemed to cascade down sprawling corridors.

  I walked over to her and peeked inside as my jaw dropped to the floor.

  “This is my closet. It’s a lot to pack up, but I figure I’ll have to sell some of it anyway.”

  I scoffed. “All of this is yours?”

  She nodded. “Your father’s closet is on the other side. The other door in the corner. The petty part of me wants to burn his clothes in a bonfire tonight. But I know better than that.”

  My cheeks puffed out with my sigh. This would be a long night, packing all this shit up. But she was right. If she wanted to leave my father for good, he’d cut her off. Completely. Which meant she’d have to sell a lot of this stuff just to keep herself afloat.

  I cleared my throat. “All right. Where are your suitcases?”

  Cecilia walked inside. “I definitely don’t have enough to pack up all this stuff right now.”

  “Do you want to sort it first, then?”

  She paused. “I suppose I could make a pile of clothes I’m willing to sell now. What’s that site you’re using?”

  “Facebook?”

  She giggled. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Their marketplace is fantastic. I’m targeting just this area to get things sold quickly. But if you broadened your selling area even twice that, you’d sell this stuff like lightning.”

  “How do you price it?”

  I shrugged. “I just look up the listing price for things like this in the store, take ten percent off the top for wear and tear. Then drop it another hundred bucks. It’s worked for me every time.”

  “That’s actually not a bad price.”

  “We can sort, then take pictures of everything. If you get even a few items up tonight, by morning you’ll have an inbox flooded with people waiting to buy your stuff.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

  I paused. “It is.”

  She grinned. “I noticed some things missing.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s obvious because I’ve been around here for more than a week at a time. It wouldn't have been had I been dipping in and out like your father.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. Good.”

  “Are you using a separate account? Or, just your regular Facebook?”

  “Oh, no. I’m not that dumb. I created a separate account. Which is why you only post a few items at a time this first time around. If you post too many, the site flags you as a bot and shuts your account down.”

  “How many did you post the first time?”

  “Five. I got those items sold first. And now, I’ve got eight more people I’m meeting tonight to sell things.”

  Her eyes bulged. “Eight more people? Really?”

  “Yep. So come on. Let’s get sorting and start taking some pictures.”

  “Will you help me make an account? You know, on this site?”

  I threaded my arm around her shoulders. “I’ll even help you post the pictures and come up with neat ways to sell the items.”

  “Thanks, Clinton.”

  “Of course.”

  I kissed the side of her head, then we got to work. In the midst of sorting her dresses and shoes, accessories and bags, I took breaks to pack up things of my own. Silverware I’d sold and a set of fine china I’d found in the attic. Dusty from being up there for years. Never touched. Never seen. Never used. I found a shit-ton of things in that attic to sell, actually. Old Armani suits. Genuine leather Gucci shoes. All sorts of things that hadn’t seen the light of day in at least a decade.

  I packed it all away in my duffle bag, preparing it to be sold.

  There were moments where I saw Cecilia tearing up over items. Things she tossed into the ‘sell’ pile I knew she didn’t want to get rid of. And my heart ached for her. But I kept reassuring her this was the right decision. That she was taking the right strides to try and get away from my father. I rubbed her back and listened to her stories. Romantic tales of my father that were almost too much to believe. The man she’d once known was foreign to me. It was as if she were speaking about another person entirely. But, I still listened. I still cried with her. I still held her and helped her through the pain.

  Of course, until it was time for me to make my way to the corner.

  So I could make some money of my own.

  26

  Raelynn

  I kept an eye on the door as I checked people out. And every time there was a lull in customers, I started cleaning down my area. I went through my usual duties as work, watching as the cashiers I worked silently with slowly phased out for the night. Until no one was left except myself and the night manager. I closed in an hour, and Clint still hadn’t shown up. Which worried me. Not that I hadn’t been concerned since that fucking text in the middle of the school day.

  But, now I had more of a reason to be concerned.

  Me: It’s okay if you can’t come to the grocery store. I understand. Just let me know you’re all right. Please.

  I sent the text off to Clint in the middle of customers. My manager gave me a look and I slid my phone into my back pocket and continued on with my duties, hoping I’d feel my phone vibrate against my ass cheek. I didn’t, though. Which made me even more worried.

  What did his father do to him?

  I feared the worst. Clint was back in the hospital. Unable to communicate. Maybe he had packed up his stuff and run away. Or, maybe his father had finally beaten him to death.

  Tears rushed my eyes and I had to take a bathroom break.

  I turned off the light on my register and raced to the back of the grocery store. I slammed through the door of the women’s restroom with my hands trembling. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to calm myself down. I wiped off the little bit of makeup I’d managed to paint on my face before leaving, and my mind bounced from Mom to Clint. Mom to Clint. Mom to Clint.

  Why couldn't my life just settle the fuck down?

  I pulled out my phone and crafted a message to my mother. One I hoped she responded to. I asked her if she was still at home or at the hospital. Though I wasn’t sure of the hospital’s policy on phones for their patients. I sent it off before checking on Clint again. He hadn’t seen my message yet, and I felt bile creeping up the back of my throat.

  Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.

  I drew in a deep breath before heading back out to my register. And after checking out seven more people, it was time to close down. I wiped down my register, as well as the remaining ones that looked terrible. I swept, making sure to get up and down the aisles where people waited. Then I cashed out my till and took it to the manager, who proceeded to count it and tally it up before we left.

  He stood and watched me as I hopped on my bike.

  “You get home safe, okay?”

  I heard the tremor of his voice and I sighed.

  “I will. I promise. Okay?” I asked.

  I took off into the night, peddling back home. What I needed to do was call Michael and ask him to give me a ride home. But what I did was exactly the opposite. I pumped as quickly as my legs would let me go. I felt my backpack and my purse weighing me down as I made my way back toward the sch
ool. I didn’t head home, however. I headed straight for Clint’s house.

  I needed to know if he was all right.

  I pulled into the driveway and came to a screeching stop. My eyes danced over the lights that lit up the windows of the house. Nothing looked out of place. Or broken. I didn’t hear screaming or crying. No one burst out on the porch with bodies flying in every other direction.

  So far, so good.

  I placed my bike down on its side in front of the porch steps and shifted my bags onto my shoulders as I walked up the steps. I knocked softly on the door, but no one answered. No footsteps. No voices. Nothing.

  And with each knock, the silence grew.

  “Clint?” I called out.

  I reached for the doorknob and found the door unlocked. With what felt like a brick of lead in my gut. I slowly opened the door and listened for yelling. Or screaming. Or crying. I didn’t hear any of that, though. I heard nothing, which was worse. Was anyone even home?

  Because if no one was home, why were all the lights on?

  “Clint? Cecilia? Anyone here?”

  “Rae?”

  Hearing Clint’s voice rushed relief through my body. I heard thundering footsteps upstairs as I dropped my things to the floor. I closed the door—and locked it—behind me. And as Clint came rushing down the steps, I found him in one piece.

  Bruised, but in one piece.

  “Clint,” I breathed.

  He wrapped me up in a massive hug and picked me up.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn't make it. It’s been a whirlwind of a night.”

  I buried my face in his neck. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  He kissed the side of my head. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

  “What happened with your father?”

  He set me down on my feet and cupped my cheeks. The smile on his face lit up my insides. He crashed his lips against mine, weakening my knees. And as he caught me in his arms, he smiled against my lips.

  “Come upstairs. I’m helping Cecilia pack her things.”