Contents
Playlist
Prologue
1. Radley
2. Radley
3. Radley
4. Radley
5. Radley
6. Radley
7. Radley
8. Radley
9. Radley
10. Meekai
11. Radley
12. Radley
13. Radley
14. Radley
15. Radley
16. Meekai
17. Radley
18. Radley
19. Radley
20. Meekai
21. Radley
22. Radley
23. Meekai
24. Radley
25. Radley
Acknowledgments
Copyright © Annie Emerson 2021
Email: [email protected]
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of copyright and the above publishers.
This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be stored or reproduced by any process without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the produce of the author’s imagination or used factitiously. Any resemblance to the actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Thirteen Hours To You: Book One
Sometimes Goodbye Is A Second Chance Duet
Edited and Proofreading: Nylah Kourieh
Interior Formatting: Dana Gallie
Interior Graphics: Surovi Bain
Photographer: Nicole Samperi
Model: Nataly Machado
Cover Design: Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations
TRIGGER WARNING: Please be warned, this duet includes scenes of sexual assault and sensitive subject matter.
For Elysha,
May love find and consume you.
May you realise your worth and never treat it as
anything less than you deserve.
Playlist
Georgia – Vance Joy
Poetry – Wrabel
It Was Always You – Maroon Five
Feel for Me – Foy Vance
Lost – Dermot Kennedy
Wide Eyed – Billy Lockett
Tribulation – Matt Maeson
Hollow – Jome
My Thoughts on You – The Band CAMINO
The Other Side – Ruelle
From Where You Are – Lifehouse
Rome – Dermot Kennedy
This playlist can be found on Spotify.
Prologue
One Hour Earlier
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. I swore I’d never, ever turn up to one of these things. Fuck, Lucy!”
Those were the last twenty-four of the fifty-five words I’d speak to Lucy before I left town for good. If I’d just staged a panic attack, I could’ve turned right around and let karma take care of things. We are always given a choice, and what I was choosing wasn't smart, but rage swallowed smart whole.
I should have directly placed this into the hands of the authorities to deal with, but who would believe me over him? It wasn’t worth it, and I couldn’t risk dad finding out. He wouldn't survive the fact that he unknowingly put me in a house where horror met reality. He’d suffered enough with the loss of mama, and I couldn't predict what this truth would do to him. Some truths were best left in the darkness where they were created.
“Oh, quit it, Radley. You love me, remember? Plus, you’ll be facing your fears and all of these insufferable assholes.” Lucy pouted through her pink glossed lips, readjusting her cleavage and blowing her gum into an obnoxious bubble.
Those were twenty of the last words Lucy would say to me before everything changed, before I turned everything upside down and tested its capability to land on its feet.
I once asked myself, was I a keeper of the truth, or the keeper of a lie? I was always told that if I knew the truth and willingly kept it to myself, I was lying by way of omission. Therefore, keeping this truth would make me a liar. The way I saw it, if the damage was already done, why not just survive it?
Enough had been taken and obliterated into an incomprehensible mess. I couldn't tell this truth; this was mine, and I couldn't change it. I'd still be seventeen going on eighteen. I'd still be the butt of the joke. The girl they pushed into the lockers, the girl they filmed on their iPhones, sprawled almost naked on the back lawn of the place he thought was the perfect alibi. He didn’t live there, so it could’ve been anyone.
As they’d filmed me, they'd assumed I was drunk.
No. I was raped. Barely conscious.
Apparently, the torn shirt that was left ripped and gaping open was the telltale sign of a teen gone wild, not an obvious sexual assault. The whispers from my peers as they all descended upon the party for another Saturday night rager, spoke in hushed tones, coming up with ludicrous scenarios as to why I was there, ignoring me as I gasped through panic and pain.
I’d laid on the grass where he dumped me, vulnerable and fading, the heartless giggling that echoed off the concrete pillars and bounced off the water of the Olympic sized swimming pool, saturated my mind and stained my soul.
None of them approached to help me, to cover my exposed flesh. My humiliation sliced through me, it was palpable, alive, it screamed at the top of its lungs as they witnessed me almost naked. I half crawled to hide, but my body didn't contain an ounce of strength to reach the mercy of the boxed hedging.
I was completely vulnerable to the people who thrived on seeing me at my weakest daily. They got to see me self-destruct in the worst way. They were the last thing I heard; their voices followed me as I struggled not to fade. I heard Lucy’s faint, desperate voice entangling itself among them. Shock set in as I fell out of consciousness and into darkness.
I was never invited to the party. Lucy was, which is how she found me. I was there to babysit Dads’ boss’s five-year-old step-daughter that night. I was doing Dad a solid by babysitting for his boss and her husband last minute.
I’d heard loud voices travelling through the house and rolled my eyes. How was I supposed to get a six-year-old to sleep with the noise that I knew was barely even beginning? A stereo blasted to life and I’d gone to tell them to shut it down. As I descended the stairs and rounded the corner that led to the outside, I was pulled from behind, a snigger whispered in my ear.
“Gotcha, Boo. Let’s have our own party, hmm? I’ll have to thank the parentals for hiring you.”
He had calculated everything to make sure it looked like it could’ve been anyone, yelling out to his friends to get the kegs without him. He had something to take care of.
I was the something he took care of; my innocence destroyed in the basement of the fortress that was supposed to keep me safe.
“There’ll be no one there, Radley,” Dad had told me. “Apparently, there’s some big party at the Lake. Katherine told me you’ll be safe. I have the password for the security system, and her and her husband should be home no later than one.”
Dad was wrong. The party had moved from the lake, to the place where he knew I’d be. It was moved just for me.
“Who knew it would be so easy to get you here, sweetheart? My Boo, you should tell your daddy that he really is a clueless fuck.”
The basement was soundproofed. He
dragged me down twenty-five stairs by my ponytail. I knew that because I counted them through tears as he bent me over the pool table, my head held forcibly against the green felt. Pained breaths escaped through strangled whimpers as he destroyed me. The secret was safe with us.
When it was over, he dragged me back up the twenty-five stairs and threw me over his shoulder once we reached the top. He coolly walked through the house as if nothing had happened. We passed the floor to ceiling glass doors, a marble outdoor dining table, and giant lounge recliners that surrounded the pool where he dumped me unceremoniously onto the back lawn.
His last words? “Clean yourself up, whore. People will be here soon, and you weren’t invited.”
After I passed out, I woke in the back of Lucy’s car, covered by a blanket and the soft reassurance that my dad never had to find out about this; that I just needed to sleep it off.
Lucy thought I was drunk too? Couldn’t she smell that I didn’t reek of alcohol? The only friend I’d had in Adalita assumed, along with everyone else, that this was the aftermath of a binge session?
She was supposed to know me better than anyone. Who would I have been drinking with if it wasn’t her of all people?
I was left in nothing but a wreckage of fabric. But I should’ve known better. He could’ve publicly raped me that night, and they would’ve filmed it from every angle and uploaded it until it went viral. I was an opportunity. While the attention was on me, it wasn’t on them.
I don’t know what they saw, but if Lucy couldn’t see what was in plain sight, why would anyone else? So, I agreed. I went along with the teen gone wild hypothesis and asked Lucy to take me to her house so Dad wouldn’t see me.
After we arrived at Lucy’s, I’d managed to delicately maneuver myself from her car with a blanket draped around my body. I limped straight to her bathroom and sobbed silently as infuriated resentment and shock overtook me. Couldn’t she hear the stifled whimpers? Why did you ignore what you knew, Lucy?
I showered. I put on a pair of Lucy’s clean sweat pants and a baggy tee. I said goodnight. The room fell into darkness as she turned off her bedside lamp. My lip quivered, my head pounded, silent tears burned my cheeks, and shame broke my heart.
Now, I’m a keeper of those memories. I'm afraid of them. The memories hold the truth and the ramifications that stemmed from that truth destroyed me physically and mentally.
Yet, here I stood, looking at the house that held our secret within its walls, for the second time in almost three months. I knew he’d be here; I knew I’d be punishing myself by reliving that night. But I was full of too much anger to let it go.
So, tonight the truth would be unleashed, one lie placed beside it. Covertly left in his jacket pocket. It will be enough to let him believe I’d left with a secret, our secret, which once unleashed would destroy him. One truth and one lie, his favorite game.
“Here is one truth and one lie, Boo Girl. If you can figure out which one is the truth and which one is the lie, I’ll leave you conscious and breathing. If you guess incorrectly, I’ll rip apart both your holes and choke the third hole with my cock when I shove it down your throat. We’ll see how long you can last before you pass out, hmm? Now play nice you little cock tease.”
I wanted him to panic.
I wanted him to look over his shoulder.
I want him to watch every step he took, paranoia sinking him into an endless state of oblivion.
I wanted him gone.
I snapped back to reality, to my purpose. I had to focus. Tonight, he’d be given his one truth and one lie. They’d both break his calm and leave him restless. As far as he was concerned, they’d both be true.
I turned to Lucy, away from my memories and popped her gum with my finger.
“Just finish adjusting your tits, Luce. I told you I’d try. I’m here, let's just go in. We’ll see how long it takes for you and Flynn to forget I’m here.”
Flynn scoffed; an all-knowing smirk mirrored my own. He knew his girlfriend well and how quickly she’d forget about me.
I took a deep breath, clutched the items in my jacket pocket and walked toward the beat of the Beastie Boys; into the house where he’d tried to destroy me.
It was time to play.
1
Radley
One Hour Later
17 years. 209 months. 911 weeks. 6,320 days. 153,141 hours. 9,188,466 minutes. 551,307,980 seconds.
All of these universally calculated numbers brought me to this day. To this moment. Alone in the dark, on a spiky, uncomfortable log, in a forest that backed onto the party I said I’d never ever attend.
You could’ve dragged me kicking and screaming toward a hot set of coals, demanding it was the flames or the party. And I would’ve argued that one hundred and fifty percent I’d turn to ashes before subjecting myself to Hardy Breeland's last party of the summer before senior year kicked off.
Yet, here I was. Hands shaking, brow glistening with sweat born from sheer adrenaline. My heart beating so hard I could hear it in my ears. Not even the loud music could drown out its overwhelming cadence. The jolt of its rapid rhythm made my skin jump at all my pulse points.
Payback, as tempting as it was, almost always left the taste of regret, canceling out the satisfaction. An hour to cool off would most likely have kept the knee jerk reaction for vengeance at a happy distance, leaving it a bullet dodged, but it was too late for that now. It was done. A lone bullet headed straight for the kill shot.
I had to suffer through one more day before I left, moving over thirteen hours, five states, countless counties and one lifetime away. It wouldn’t be soon enough.
All I had left was Dad and the lingering scent of my mama’s perfume that still cruelly assaulted me every time I walked through the front door.
She’d died just over two years ago and it wasn’t getting any easier dealing with her being gone. Living with the memories of the things I’d hidden, along with the death of Mama was becoming too hard to carry.
I needed to leave.
Dad met with fate just over six months ago, on aisle five of the local Target. Amy, his now girlfriend, had dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the overrun linoleum while rummaging through her purse for her shopping list. Sometimes that’s all it takes, right? One dropped twenty-dollar bill to lead you out of today and into a tomorrow you never saw coming.
Even though it was difficult to see him with anyone but Mama, it was harder to see him broken. He was finally smiling again, and everything was changing faster than I could have foretold. The house was in escrow, boxes packed, shelves cleared; the memories stored away in the broken and fragile compartments of my heart.
Dad had said he wouldn’t sell the house if it was too hard for me to let go. I’d spent my whole life there, and he’d sworn he would make it work, but in all honesty, none of it was working anymore. The memories were either a kick to the face or a beautiful reminder. A two-edged sword whose blade I’d had enough of dodging.
The truth? Yes, it broke my heart to see my childhood home up for sale. The day the realtor hammered the for sale sign into my dads’ perfectly manicured lawn had me crying silently for hours.
I’d lived in small-town Adalita, Pennsylvania, for all seventeen years of my life. The four walls that surrounded me held my life with two parents who loved as hard as they could, right up until the moment Mama fell asleep on a back road, a shortcut she’d taken because she was tired and desperate for sleep. It seemed it was one mile too long. She had just finished the night shift at the hospital where she worked as a nurse. I’d heard the sirens, the phone call, the thud as my father hit the floor, the news winding his soul; his sobs a ringtone that played over and over in the silence.
I shook my head at the memories, trying to ground myself. The last almost two years played on repeat as I struggled to regain my breath and slow my pulse. What had I done?
“Shh, Boo Girl. You feel so good. Who knew a bitch could feel so fucking tight and bleed so fucking red? I can s
mell us everywhere. Fuck, I bet you taste like honey. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to taste you? You know you’re going to feel me for weeks to come, right? I could come at the thought alone. But I won’t. The longer and deeper I go, the longer and deeper the memory. I can't have you forgetting me, Boo Girl. After all, I was your first and nothing will ever change that, sweetheart.”
My eyes squeezed tight; my stomach churned. Fucking memories. Two. Edged. Sword. Just twenty-four hours, Radley. Breathe in, breathe out, center yourself. Just hang in and hang on.
“Hang in and hang on, baby girl. You can do it! Just gently release the clutch . . . Yes! You’re doing it! And they say moms don’t know how to teach their baby girls how to handle a classic car!”
Fucking memories. Two. Edged. Sword.
I smiled. Yeah, Mama, you knew how to teach your baby girl to handle a classic.
I kicked at the soft earth, smelling the soil as the humidity of the night hit the air, the threat of rain bringing out the pungent smell. As I took in a deep breath, I heard a twig snap and leaves crunch under heavy footsteps. I flung my body around in panic, and was met with big brown eyes.
“Hey, what do you think you're doing here all alone?”
I looked up to see the unfamiliar face staring down at me like he had the right to ask me such a question. He had his head cocked to the side and a smug grin on his face as he whispered, “no way,” under his breath. To who? I didn’t know. Half the people here were half baked or worse.
Thirteen Hours To You Page 1
