by Sequaia
Meant to Be Yours
Sequaia
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgments
1 - Aúrea
2 - Prentice
3 - Aúrea
4 - Prentice
5 - Aúrea
6 - Aúrea
7 - Aúrea
8 - Aúrea
9 - Aúrea
10 - Aúrea
11 - Aúrea
12 - Prentice
13 - Prentice
14 - Aúrea
15 - Prentice
16 - Aúrea
17 - Prentice
18 - Aúrea
19 - Prentice
20 - Aúrea
21 - Prentice
22 - Aúrea
23 - Prentice
24 - Aúrea
25 - Prentice
26 - Aúrea
27 - Prentice
28 - Aúrea
29 - Prentice
30 - Aúrea
Epilogue - Prentice
Urban Books, LLC
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Meant to Be Yours Copyright © 2021 Sequaia
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6455-6230-6
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I thank God for all He’s done and continues to do in my life. With Him, nothing is impossible. I want to thank my babies, Rique and Riqo: Mommy loves you two so much. To my love, Erique: thank you for your unwavering love and support. Also, to my family, thank you for supporting me. To my friends, who I’m able to discuss ideas with and receive motivational speeches from when I’m stuck: I appreciate you so much. I want to give a huge thank you to my super agents, N’Tyse and Diane, for your continuous support, motivational speeches, and just being two amazing genuine women. Thank you so much for all you’ve done and continue to do. I am so excited about where this journey will lead us.
To Granny, Marea and Keyon: this one is for y’all.
To those of you reading this: I am so excited for you to read Aúrea and Prentice’s story, and I hope you enjoy it.
Thank you.
1
Aúrea
Panic-stricken, I woke up sweating profusely. Looking over at the small Hello Kitty clock that rested on my nightstand, I peered at the time and exhaled deeply. It displayed 11:59 p.m. Taking deep breaths to steady my nerves, I tried coaching myself to pull it together. The time had come to get out of this house. I usually had about five minutes from now before he made his way into my bedroom.
“Please, God, don’t let the door give out,” I mouthed the words, referring to the makeshift lock I made using a rope tied from my doorknob to my dresser’s handle. I hoped God heard me. He had to.
I waited with bated breath, silently continuing to pray that he didn’t gain entry into my bedroom. My eyes shifted toward the light shining underneath the door, focusing on the shadow of his feet as everything seemed to go quiet. My eyes darted around my room, searching for anything to defend myself with if he happened to break down the door. As nothing came into view, his scoffing pierced my ears before I heard him say, “All right.” Not a second later, a menacing laugh left his mouth, seeming to draw further from my door. I looked at the spot where his feet had once cast a shadow, relieved to see nothing other than light.
He was gone . . . had moved from the spot. I let out the breath I’d been holding as the house phone rang . . . loudly, buying me a little more time.
Nervously, I began chewing on the inside of my cheek as thoughts of my next move flooded my mind. Waiting around to be raped was far from a favorable option. Hence, the reason I popped two sleeping pills earlier, with hopes to sleep through the act or not wake at all. Just in case my lock tie didn’t work. Was dying something I wanted? Of course not. It would’ve been an out, though. God clearly had other plans for me. So it was time to put in some work to take advantage of the chance given to me.
“Come on, Aúrea, you can do this.” Finally finding my voice, I whispered the words meant to motivate me as my hands and legs shook as if I were standing in the middle of the North Pole, naked. Removing my blankets, revealing my black and pink pajamas purchased from Target, I inched my way off the bed. Picking up my messenger bag while easing my nightstand drawer open, I grabbed a few bras, panties, and my cell before tossing them into the bag, then slid my feet into my Nike slides.
“Okay, Aúrea, what next?” Talking to myself had slowly become a habit. Standing there, wringing my hands, I anticipated an answer that only I could give.
The doorknob shook again. My knees buckled.
“Shit,” he cussed, rattling the doorknob before his heavy footsteps trailed off once again.
That was the final sign I needed. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge. Leaving was always a part of my plan, especially with my eighteenth birthday around the corner. Going tonight, however, wasn’t. Apples and oranges, usually what life threw my way. So there was no reason to think now would be any different. For five years, my foster father had had his way with me. Routinely. At least three nights a week when my foster mother left for work. She departed the house at ten, and he waited until 12:05 a.m.; 12:06 a.m. at the latest, before entering—like clockwork, because around midnight, she’d call.
Unsure of what he was about to do next, I needed to hurry and make a move. I eased over to my window, sliding it up as gently as possible to avoid the raggedy window from making too much noise. This house was old. Even with the multiple streams of income coming in, my county check included, they still only did the bare minimum fixing this place. I exhaled, satisfied when it opened with a minimal clatter.
“Aúrea!” he growled my name. My heart just about leaped from my chest. I hadn’t heard him come back and damn sure hadn’t heard him open my door. Obviously, the rope hadn’t worked. Wildly, my heart thumped as my eyes widened when they met his gaze. This moment reminded me of the scene from Tales from the Hood when the boy’s stepfather came into his room as the “monster.” Von, my foster father, was, without a doubt, a monster. Momentarily, we stared at each other. His unexpected entrance left me feeling paralyzed—until he moved.
All my senses seemed to come back, shooting through me as if I’d been hit with a defibrillator. Snatching up my messenger bag, I practically dove out of my window.
“Ahh!” My scream was loud enough to wake the block as the grip Von took on my hair jerked me backward. Tears immediately stung my eyes.
“Where you going, huh?” he gritted, yanking my hair tighter.
“Let me go, please . . . I-I won’t run.”
“You better fucking not, or there’ll be hell to pay, and you know it.” Releasing my hair, he shoved me forward. Had it not been for my outstretched hands, my face would have smacked against the wall. He promised there’d be hell to pay—as if this weren’t hell already. With enough distance between us, I decided to take my chances once again.
I lea
ped headfirst out of the window, landing on my palms and belly. The rosebush my foster mother cherished so much flattened underneath me. Popping up, I scrambled a few steps away from the house before dusting myself off, removing the few thorns that stuck in me. My nights of cooperating were done.
I had had enough.
Been had enough.
Disgustingly, he made it a point to inform me the last time he’d crept into my room two nights ago that he would be getting some of my sweet little pussy until I was officially grown and walked out of their front door. The joke was on him, though. No way was I going to let him have that satisfaction. He would not get the chance to fuck me into age 18. He’s been having his way with me since I moved into this home. Two nights ago, I deemed it the last time and began plotting my escape. Two nights hadn’t been enough time to come up with a solid game plan. So right now, I was winging everything.
“Aúrea,” the harshness in his whisper couldn’t be mistaken, even in such a low tone. I spun around toward the window, my chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline and unsettled nerves. I peered into his dark eyes, glaring back at me. The sinister expression he gave me when our eyes met made my skin crawl. With his right index finger, he motioned for me to come back. The dingy wife beater he wore hung at the collar as if he’d stretched it. His skinny arms looked like small tree branches, with nappy armpit hair peeping from the sides. Von gave me vibes of the actor Michael T. Williamson when he screamed “raggedy bitch” to Robin in Waiting to Exhale. He grossed me out to no end. Could’ve possibly been a handsome man had he not taken it upon himself to violate me every chance he got.
I looked at him with wide eyes before scrunching my face and shaking my head in defiance, then took off for my safe place, the only place I could think to go right now, where I’d be okay for at least a little while until I figured out my next move.
My head was on a swivel as I walked as quickly as I could in the slippers I had on. It was late.
I was alone.
I’d just escaped my molester—rapist, rather. There was nothing ordinary about tonight. When I made it to the block’s nicest home, I paused briefly, looking around to be sure no one saw me approaching the house. It shocked me to see the light on in the room I hoped to be entering shortly. He was never up this late. Gradually making my way to the window, I did my best to see inside, but the curtain blocked my view. Tapping on the window, I waited what felt like forever before the curtain drew back, revealing his handsome face. Covering his mouth with his left hand, he yawned before opening the window.
“You were sleeping?” My eyebrows rose in skepticism. Why? I wasn’t sure, knowing that if there was anybody I could trust, it was undoubtedly him. His bedroom light being on so late when I knew he typically didn’t stay up this late had caught me off guard.
“Yeah, doing this assignment for history. Fell asleep at my desk. Come on.” He extended his hand, assisting me through. “Aúrea, what’s wrong, babe?” He asked me in the gentlest tone imaginable, even though the vein in his forehead protruded, alerting me of his frustration, his anger.
“I had to get out of there. I refuse to deal with him tonight—or any other night. It has to stop.” I collapsed onto his chest, feeling safe instantly as his arms wrapped around me.
“Did he touch you?” I could hear the rapid pace of his heartbeat as he awaited my reply.
“I left. He didn’t get to. But, Prentice,” I pulled back from him, looking him in the eyes, “I can’t live like that anymore.” Half-truth, half a lie, I gave to him. Had he known that Von almost ripped my hair from my scalp, he’d go to my house and try his best to kill Von. That wasn’t something I could allow.
“You won’t. We’ll figure something out. Come on. Let’s get some rest and come up with a solution when we wake up, all right?” He took me by the chin and kissed my lips. And my heart sped up. This was the feeling that was supposed to come over me when I was kissed, not the vile feeling which always existed when my foster father put his lips on mine.
Prentice was everything to me . . . my best friend, my boyfriend, my confidant, my peace. With him was where I wanted to be, especially when he didn’t turn his back on me after I confessed about my foster father, after making him promise not to tell a soul. Still, after all of that . . . He still wanted and cared about me.
“Okay.” There was no reluctance to agree with him. His intentions for me were pure, even when my circumstances caused me to doubt them. My heart knew to trust him, so most times, I obliged what he asked of me. There was no doubt he would help me figure out what to do next. I knew I wasn’t going to let Von hurt me any further.
* * *
“Prentice! Prentice!”
The sound of someone yelling his name woke me from my sleep. Whoever was yelling for him wasn’t near. And the person shouting was undeniably female. Forcing myself to wake fully, I lazily rolled over onto my back, rubbed my eyes before stretching, and sat up. I almost forgot where I was until the photo of Prentice and me on his desk caught my eye.
“I know you didn’t let that fast-ass girl sleep at my house. Did you have sex with her under my roof, with me home? I know you haven’t lost your damn mind, boy.”
Rolling my eyes at the sound of Tasha’s voice, Prentice’s mom, I contemplated lying back down. I was used to her voicing an unwanted opinion about me since most of what she assumed she knew about me was false, anyway. However, curiosity about the lies she would spew this time got the best of me. Standing from his bed, I sauntered over to his door to hear her extra ass better.
“Ma, I wish you’d quit talking about her like that. If you took the time to get to know her, you would actually like her,” Prentice defended me.
“I know what I see, and the eyes don’t lie. You two are lucky I didn’t drag her ass up out of here. And you—you’ve always been respectful until she came along. Yet, you want me to give her a chance? Child, please, I’ve only seen you change for the worse, not better, since meeting her. Go get her fast ass out of my house,” Tasha yelled.
I could imagine her neck rolling as she pointed her finger in his face. Tasha talked big and probably had hands, but she would have a problem if she decided to put them on me.
“But, Ma—”
“Prentice, go do what I said.”
Footsteps drawing closer urged me to get my ass back into his bed and pretend like I hadn’t heard a damn thing. I barely got the cover over my head when the door opened, then shut.
“I know you’re not sleeping. We need to talk.”
Taking a sharp breath, I withdrew the blankets just as he sat down, causing the bed to sink in some.
“I’m going to leave. No one should be at my house, anyway.” I knew him needing to talk would only be to tell me to leave his home. I couldn’t take hearing him speak those words to me, even if they weren’t his own words. So letting him know I would leave was doing us both a favor.
“Leave and then what, A?” he quizzed.
“Go home, pack my things . . . Travel to Los Angeles, as I’ve always declared I would.” Seriousness etched my tone because that’s exactly what I was—spending another week or day under the same roof as my foster parents was not going to cut it. That was like me asking to be raped again. And since I refused to let that happen anymore, running away was the best option. Because if I didn’t leave, I’d surely end up in prison for murder.
“You’re serious?” his voice cracked as if he were afraid of my answer.
“I am.”
“What about me, us?”
“Leaving you is not what I want to do, but I don’t have any other option. I can’t stay here, and I refuse to stay there.”
“Can you stay with one of your homegirls for a couple of days until I can figure something out?” His pleading eyes tugged at my heart. Even though I had no clue what he was planning, my gut told me to give his plan a try.
“Then what?” I needed to know.
“Then I’ll go to L.A. with you.”
&nbs
p; “Are you for real?” Tears pooled. My heart filled. This young man truly loved me. He had to if he was willing to leave what he had here behind. His life was far from fucked up, while mine was all kinds of shitty. He had no reason to go other than for me.
“I mean it. Let me stack some money and do some research first. Then we can leave. I’m not letting you go that far without me.”
“Okay. I’ll wait it out. At a friend’s house.” I had one person I could consider a friend, besides Prentice, although it felt like she only hung with me to get male attention since guys flocked to me because they thought I was easy. Outside of Von, Prentice was the only guy I’d been with. But big boobs and wide hips apparently equaled fucking. I’d been doing that since age 13, so I guess it was a reasonable assumption. I couldn’t deny I developed faster than most of the girls in our community, though.
“Will you come with me to pack the rest of my things?”
Both of my foster parents should have been gone. Having Prentice with me was best in case they were there.
“Of course.”
My eyes followed as he went into his closet and changed clothes before grabbing a pocketknife. He tried to pocket it discretely, then accompanied me home. When we got there, my bedroom window was cracked, and the cars were gone. I collected everything I’d need, plus all of my sentimental items, mainly the necklace that had been with me since being placed into the system. After gathering everything, I prepared to stay with a friend until he was ready to make our move.
2
Prentice
“Hey, what you kids doing back here?”
My eyes shot open not just from the question but from the sharp poking in my side. It wasn’t painful but being snatched from my sleep so abruptly had my heart pounding. Being treated as if I were some dead, dirty-ass dog had me on the verge of taking the stick and beating up whoever was poking me with it.
“Yo! What the fuck?” I said, sitting up and wiping my eyes. Defensively, my fists balled while my face scrunched into a mug. My girl hadn’t moved once. She was a heavy sleeper, so her lack of movement didn’t shock me. As my eyes adjusted to the light and reality of where we were, my head hung in shame . . . briefly, because the angry voice started again.
