Piece By Piece (The Ink Nation Series Book 1)

by Jennah Thornhill

  Piece By Piece

  Book One in The Ink Nation Series

  By

  Jennah Thornhill

  Copyright

  Piece By Piece is the official workings of Author Jennah Thornhill

  ©2020 Jennah Thornhill. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  All events and characters in this publication are fictitious, any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental by all standards. Whereas you may read historical events taken place in Earth’s history, these written scenes are otherwise fictitious and should not be taken into account as ‘actual’ events. Any trademarks, service marks, product names or names featured are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference.

  Edited by Maria Lazarou ~ Obsessed by Books Designs

  Formatted by Maria Lazarou ~ Obsessed by Books Designs

  Proofread by Sienna Grant

  Cover Design: Shower Of Schmidt Designs

  Dedication

  For those who have stuck by me these past three months.

  You’ve picked me up, kicked my arse when I needed it and just generally been there for me when I wanted to give it all up.

  I love you all.

  Acknowledgements

  This book has been a long time coming. The last six months since I started writing it, have been some of my hardest times. A simple thank you to everyone that’s had my back through it all, just doesn’t seem sufficient enough in my eyes. But I’m going to give it a good bloody go.

  Firstly, my book wife Sienna Grant. You’re my other half, my person. If it wasn’t for you, I’m pretty sure I would have given it all up by now. I can’t imagine my life without you. You’ve sat and listened to me have my breakdowns and laughed at me when I’ve done something so fucking stupid. Even you can’t believe it.

  I love you, Fuckface.

  My naughty corner girls, my PA, and my editor. Tracy, Maria, Karina, and Gemma. Life without you lot would be so fucking boring. You know just when I need you all. During the process of writing this book, I’ve needed you all more than ever. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me. I couldn’t have done this without you all.

  My family, we’ve been through so much in the last six months. Yet you’ve let me have my time when I needed it and let me write. You all know what this means to me and how important it is, that I let my characters have their time on paper. I will forever, love you all so much.

  Lastly, my readers. You guys fucking rock!!!

  You’ve been patient with me. You’ve stood by me and still showed up to the party, when the book was finally finished. Nikki, Karen, Joy, Natasha, and Sarah. You five keep me smiling every day, with your man wars and messages. Please don’t ever change, I love you all massively.

  If I’ve missed anyone out, I’m sorry. Just know that I’m very grateful to you all for standing by me and holding me together, when I needed it the most.

  I’ll see you all again really soon with hopefully book two.

  Love you all.

  Jennah

  Blurb

  Trey

  My future had been mapped out for me, but shit happened and fucked everything up to the point where I’m no longer the man I once was. Now, I don’t give two royal fucks what people think of me.

  Nothing and no-one will change me.

  Except maybe her.

  She’s just as broken as I am and I’m about to throw all my rules out of the window to try put her back together, piece by piece.

  Daisy

  At the age of thirteen my life changed for good, leaving me damaged beyond repair and believing there will never be any hope for someone like me.

  I’m ruined. Unfixable. Unlovable

  Until him.

  His broken soul touches mine and I find myself fighting my demons to help put him back together, Piece By Piece.

  Prologue

  Daisy

  I have nothing and no-one.

  I’m about to be evicted from my home and I can’t hold a job down for more than two weeks; apparently, I’m rude.

  Sitting in the scorching hot water, that’s filled to the brim in my tub, I watch as my skin turns bright red. Yet, the heat doesn’t affect me, I can’t feel it. I’m numb. All I can think about is my sad, little life and the fact that no-one would miss me if I wasn’t here.

  The razor blade that’s sitting on the bath ledge, is glistening, calling to me to just end it all and float away into the light.

  I’ve tried numerous times before to end my life, only I keep getting found before I can leave this shitty earth. I have to endure all the mental checks from doctors, all over again. To which, I just bullshit my way through. Tell them what they want to hear and get the fuck out before they can lock me up in a nuthouse and stop me from trying again.

  Only this time I’m not going to fail. I will succeed.

  Looking down through the water, I stare at the scars that have made me this way.

  Instead of putting me back together after what he did to me, I wish they had just let me bleed to death. It would have been easier. Then, I wouldn’t have to relive it every day and the memories wouldn’t haunt me.

  “Jesus. She’s just a child, what kind of monster does this to a child?”

  I can hear the wobbly voice in the recesses of my mind, but I can’t see their faces. All I know is, it’s a woman and she sounds like she’s about to burst into tears.

  “Come on now, Valerie. Pull yourself together, no it’s not nice but we have a job to do and she is our patient.”

  The man’s voice is deep, yet it doesn’t terrify me like it should. Like his does, when he comes for me.

  “She’s going to bleed out if we don’t get her into surgery soon. We have to repair the damage the best we can, but first the police want to know the extent of the assault.”

  Another voice appears and after I’ve been looked at by what I think are two police officers. One of them leaves, sobbing her heart out. I’m then wheeled off on my hospital trolley by nurses, trying to keep their own tears at bay. I’m in and out of sleep, but I can tell they are disturbed by what they are seeing by their sniffles. There is one of them, who is whispering in my ear, that I’m going to be okay and that whoever did this to me, will pay for it.

  I can’t agree with either, it’s been going on for that long now, I don’t think he will ever stop. Even now, when I’m a mangled mess, I know he’ll still come for me when I’m healed. Then I’m certain, he won’t wait that long.

  I’m only in the hospital now because my friend from school, came to the house and found me on the kitchen floor. Blood was covering the entire floor. She slipped on it and nearly landed on her ass, when she came through the back door. The second her eyes landed on me, she screamed and fell to her knees next to me. Begging me to stay awake. At the same time, she grappled for her phone, that was tucked away in her coat.

  “Zoe, you need to leave. He will hurt you too, if he comes back.”

  I try my best to warn her, but she wouldn’t listen. She stayed with me until the paramedics turned up and brought me here.

  That day was the day I turned my back on all of them, except for Zoe. She’s the only person who’s stuck around and didn’t think that what happened to me, was my fault. I was safer in the system anyway; he couldn’t get to me there. I was sent to the other end of the country and they weren’t told my whereabouts. They weren’t my family anymore. Not when my own mother t
ook his side and said I deserved everything I got. That if I wasn’t walking around the house in shorts in the summer, with my ass hanging out, then I wouldn’t have teased him and sent him over the edge.

  Apparently wearing shorts now causes men to lose their shit, rape a thirteen-year-old repeatedly on a daily basis. Then when she fights back, he takes a kitchen knife and butchers her vagina and thighs. Before leaving her to bleed all over the kitchen floor.

  Even the six-year prison sentence he got, didn’t help. Him and my mother have money and when you have money like they do, it speaks volumes.

  If my father hadn't died from drinking himself to death, then my life would have been completely different.

  Still staring at the jagged, rough skin, where the doctors tried their best to piece me back together. I can feel the darkness pulling me under even more. I can’t live like this anymore. I tried therapy when they discharged me and found me a foster family to live with, but it didn’t help. I was broken. I’m still broken. Talking to a shrink wasn’t going to help me. It wasn’t going to take away the nightmares. The memories of him on me, hurting me. Wishing the one person who should protect me, would actually save me.

  No.

  The only way to get out of this life I’m just drifting through, is to just end it all.

  Finally picking the blade up, I flip it between my fingers.

  It will all be over soon, just one good swipe across the main vein and I’m toast.

  I’ll be free.

  Chapter One

  Trey

  The buzz of the tattoo gun gives me a thrill like no other. Well except for sex of course, but that’s a whole different ball game. No, it’s the high I get when I’m permanently inking someone's skin, with one of my own designs. Especially if its virgin skin, like the one I’m currently working on, it’s out of this world. The rush is like no other and the satisfaction on my clients faces when they leave with what they asked for. It makes me actually believe that I might be good at what I do. Being a tattoo artist was never something I thought I would be doing as a career, but my job and this studio have become my entire life.

  I live for this place.

  It’s also what gets me out of bed in the mornings. It keeps me from hitting the bottle and my mind going to places that I try my damned hardest to not revisit. The demons still creep in though, usually when I least expect them to. If I allow them in, then that’s when the demons take a firm hold of me. I can’t allow that to happen, because then, I may never come back from them a second time around.

  I was lucky to make it out alive the first time.

  Using the antibacterial spray and some paper towels, I wipe away the excess ink from the pearl and skull design. It’s taken me days to perfect this before I was happy with it to show it to its new owner.

  Stacey Windall.

  I’ve known Stace for as long as I can remember. So, when she came to me wanting to piss daddy off. I made fucking sure it was going to be the best, damn fucking tattoo, I have done so far in my career.

  Looking at Stace and looking at me, you would never think that we both came from the same upper-class circle. With more money than we knew what to do with.

  The only difference is, Stace utilizes her family's status. Yet at the same time, will do anything and everything to fuck off her father - Patrick Windall.

  Growing up, I used to be at the Windall's every day and vice versa. That was until we turned eighteen and tragedy struck.

  Getting back to the design that’s spread across her rib cage. I press my foot back down onto the pedal and bring the needle, that I’ve dipped in fresh white ink, and start to shade in the pearls. That are wrapped around the skulls neck.

  “I miss him, Trey.”

  Her voice is a whisper, but I hear it and it hits me as if she’s screamed it at the top of her lungs. It causes me to falter ever so slightly, but I catch myself before I can screw up the amazing art in front of me.

  “Every day he’s on my mind, I can’t even go into Starbucks without thinking about him. The pain in my chest is just as raw now, as it was the night it happened.”

  I know exactly how she feels. I may not be open about my feelings, but I understand her pain.

  Since that night, my life changed dramatically. I’m not the same person I used to be. Back then I cared, I cared what people thought of me. I cared about people that were important to me. Now, I couldn’t give two fucks. The only person I still look out for from my old life, is Stace and sometimes I think that’s only driven by guilt.

  I don’t share shit with anyone.

  Especially my feelings.

  I’ve closed myself off from ever feeling anything again. I’m a shell of the man I used to be, or who I thought I would become.

  Now, I only live for two things, Sex and my tattoo studio.

  I tell it how it is and fuck if people don’t like it.

  Well… some people like it.

  Mainly chicks, when they’re bouncing on my dick and I’m ordering them what to do. Whilst they’re screaming my name at the top of their lungs.

  As I’ve already mentioned, I never used to be like this.

  My life, like Stacey's, was all planned out for me and I was happy with that. Then came the day we left high school, partied, and drank way too much and I ended up killing my best friend.

  Stacey’s, twin brother.

  “I miss him too, Stace. The guilt never goes away. Believe me when I say there isn’t a day, I don’t think about him either. I wish it was me who was in the ground, instead of him.”

  I continue to move the needle over her skin, as I repeat the same words, I’ve been telling her for the past nine years. They just roll off my tongue now, but I’m emotionless when I say them. There’s a reason I’m no longer accepted or wanted in my own family, or Cam and Stacey’s. Not only did I get Cam killed, I’m also a waster in their eyes now. With all the shame I brought down onto both families, there’s no way they could accept me in their society. Too much of a bad image for the two families, who do business together. Stace is still the only person from my past, that speaks to me. Sometimes, I think that it’s only another reason to piss her daddy off, but who gives a shit?

  Because I don’t.

  Not anymore.

  They made it perfectly clear, I was no longer welcome. Fuck them. I’m doing just fine without them. If Stace wants to hang around me, then I’m not going to tell her no. She’s the last piece of Cam I have and a selfish part of me is clinging on to that.

  Up until the night Cam died, I was the golden boy in our town, back in Austin, Texas. I was your typical jock, quarterback of the football team, had a long-term girlfriend called Becca. I threw the best parties at the weekend. I also had a trust fund, that rivaled all my fellow students at Bestwick Academy. The best private school on the Gulf Coast. That was until I was banished from Austin and told never to return. Yet, being the brainiac I was back then, I knew what was coming before my father had the chance to verbally tell me, I was no longer his son. Which was a mistake on his behalf, may I add. He underestimated me before he could cut me off completely. I took a chunk of my trust fund and deposited it into another account. So, I wasn’t left totally high and dry like he thought he was leaving me. It was my final fuck you, to the man who thought he could take everything away from me.

  So, with a pretty padded bank account, until I could find a job, because college was definitely out of the question. I packed a duffle bag and hopped on a bus out of there. Before I knew it, I was pulling up in New York City, and renting a tiny, one bed apartment above a Chinese takeout joint. From the moment I arrived here, I’ve felt free. There’s been no expectations, no-one looking at me with disappointment in their eyes. No-one here knows about my past, not even the guys, who have become like my family to me since I opened the studio.

  In my father's eyes, I was his mini me. From an early age me and Cam were taken to the company office with our dads. We were ta
ught the ropes of our family's oil company. Separately, our families were a force to be reckoned with, but when they joined forces, they could rule the world.

  In Austin and across the whole of Texas, the names Windall and Spencer meant something. My surname alone would get me served underage, without getting carded in bars and the grocery store. Back then it was good to be me.

  “We’ve changed from who we were back then, Trey. Cam’s death wasn’t your fault, you told him to leave, but he ignored you. The idiot put himself in the firing line.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “No, Trey. No, yeah buts, okay? I was there, I know how it went down. I just hope that one day you realize that and find the Trey I know is still in there somewhere.”

  She lifts her hand and places it on top of my t-shirt over my heart causing me to take the tattoo gun away from her skin, so I don’t fuck that up as well. The last thing I need is to screw up on Stacey Windall. For as much as she’s like the sister I never had, she has a mouth the size of Dodger Stadium. Everyone will know about it and I’ll be ruined.

  Chapter Two

  Daisy

  It’s been one hundred and one days, since I last took a blade to my skin.

  That day in the bathtub, when I was all set to end my miserable existence once and for all. I was once again saved by my best friend Zoe.

  I had made the second cut to my wrist, the most vital one and I was just starting to float under the water. When I heard her screaming. I could feel her dragging me from the tub, even though I wasn’t in my right mind, I could hear her sobbing. Demanding that I wasn’t leaving her, at the same time, she dialed nine, one, one and got me the help, I so very clearly needed.