Number Thirteen

by Bella Jewel

  Number Thirteen

  Bella Jewel

  Published by Bella Jewel, 2014.

  Table of Contents

  Number Thirteen

  CHAPTER ONE | NUMBER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER TWO | NUMBER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER THREE | WILLIAM

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOUR | NUMBER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FIVE | NUMBER THIRTEEN

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER SIX | WILLIAM

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVEN | NUMBER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT | WILLIAM

  CHAPTER NINE | NUMBER THIRTEEN

  WILLIAM

  NUMBER THREE

  FOUR HOURS LATER

  SIX HOURS LATER

  EIGHT HOURS LATER

  TEN HOURS LATER

  TWELVE HOURS LATER

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  ~*NUMBER THIRTEEN*~

  All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  Copyright © 2014 Bella Jewel

  NUMBER THIRTEEN is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental, and not intended by the author. Please do not take offence to the content, as it is FICTION.

  ~*ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS*~

  There are so many people I would like to thank; it’s quite possible I could take up two pages with it. In all my time writing, the support I have received has been utterly mind-blowing. I’ve had so many kind people offering to help, from blogs, to fans, to people I don’t even know. You’re all amazing, each and every one of you.

  Now, to the personal thanks.

  To Sali Benbow-Powers—my crazy, enthusiastic reader. Your notes kept me going. You ripped a smile out of me every time, without a doubt. Your personality is like a breath of fresh air, as wiI’ve told you before. You’re the kind of girl people go to when they’re feeling down because you’re bound to make them smile! You know you rocked my book, so you know I’ll rock you back!

  To Bella Aurora, my sissy, my sunshine. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I’ll never regret making a friend out of you. Your help with this book really made a difference to me. You took the time out, even in all your crazy fame, to talk to me and get me through this one. I’ll adore you forever, twinsie.

  To Lauren McKellar, for editing this book for me. You took the time out, chatted with me the entire way, and were so damn sweet about it. You’re utterly amazing, and I feel so lucky to have snatched you up. No doubt there are many out there who would like to grab you and keep you. But they can’t, you’re mine, muahahahaha!

  To Jennifer Tanner and her gorgeous model, Miles Logan, for taking the picture on this book cover for me. Jenn, you have been so kind to me, helping me out and getting exactly what I wanted. And Miles, you did an amazing job on this cover, even though you were sick. I appreciate this more than you will ever now. A big thanks from all the way down here in Australia.

  To Ari, from Coverit Designs. Girl, you rock my covers. Seriously, you’re the best cover artist ever. You just get an idea, and you make it amazing. Without you, this book wouldn’t look pretty, which means no one would buy it, so girl, you get half the damn credit!! I love your work!

  To Love Between The Sheets, for all the time and effort you have put in getting my name out, and organizing my tours. You ladies got my name out there, you helped me grow and expand. You’re absolutely amazing.

  To my fun-loving admin, MJ! You’re freaking amazing, your witty comments bring a smile to my face all the time. Thanks, girl, for running my page for me when I’m sleeping here in Aus-land! You rock it!

  And, of course, to all my fans—you know without all of you, this wouldn’t be possible. So to each and every one of you reading this right now, THANK YOU!! Keep doin’ what you do best, and that’s reading!!

  This one is for my girl, Bella Aurora. Thank you for all the time you spent loving this book with me. It wouldn’t be the same without you. So, this one is yours.

  PROLOGUE

  WILLIAM

  My boots crunch the yellow autumn leaves as I walk towards the schoolyard. I didn’t want to come today, but Momma told me I had no choice. She said school is for smart kids, and if I don’t go, then how am I ever going to get smart? I could get smart; the man on the television tells me everything I need to know. But she claims that I can’t make friends with the man on the television, and that the only way to make friends is to go to school. I could have told her that I don’t need friends to be successful, but she’d only tell me I was being silly.

  So I came to school.

  I didn’t tell her that there are bullies here, or that every day they push me around and shove me into lockers. That would make me sound weak, and now that my dad is working, and my brother is away because he didn’t like the school here, I’ve had to become the man of the house. There’s no room for weakness.

  Momma tells me bullies pick on the kids who are victims. I think she’s wrong. I’m not a victim; I’m just a kid. They pick on me because I’m different. I don’t look at the girls like they do; I don̵dn&; I don7;t try to sneak out to parties. I’m only thirteen. I’m just there to learn, then I go home and I take care of my family, because I’m the man of the house.

  Like I said.

  The shrill sound of the school bell ringing tells me I’m late. I pick up into a jog, rounding the corner, and heading into the schoolyard. It’s a cool winter day, and I have to pinch my coat together to stop it from flapping in the icy breeze. I can see the students piling in the front doors, and I turn my jog into a run.

  I’m so focused on the doors that I don’t see them. A strong hand lashes out, catching hold of my sleeve, and tugging me into the alleyway that runs down beside my school.

  I always knew this alley was dangerous.

  My body is slammed against a hard wooden fence, and I set eyes on my bullies. Four of them. They’re all bigger than me, all of them on the football team. They’re a few grades up, and they’ve just turned sixteen.

  The leader of the group, Marcel, steps forward first. He scrunches his nose in disgust, as if I’ve just dragged myself out of a gutter, as if I’m offending him. He leans in close, and I can smell cigarettes on his breath.

  Smoking is not cool.

  “You’ve been trying to avoid me, Will. Did you really think you could hide at home with Mommy, and never come out again?”

  I stare at him, wondering why he chose me to pick on. I didn’t even know his name until he flagged me down and shoved my head into a toilet six months ago. I was just a kid, keeping my head down, studying and learning like I should. Now here I am, pressed against a fence, wondering why they decided I was good enough to take extra special effort to attack.

  I don’t bother answering him; it’ll only make it worse. My answers won’t make a difference. If I answer, I’m wrong. If I don’t answer, I’m wrong.

  “Are you fucking mute, you little cunt?”

  My body jerks. I hate that word. It’s so...vulgar. I let my eyes move to the f
our other guys, standing like protective pack animals around Marcel. I don’t know their names; they’re not significant enough. The tall boy with orange hair looks nervous, as if he knows what’s about to happen could put him in a world of trouble—but he’s still here, still making the choice to stay. The other two guys are stony faced, and fully aware of their part in this attack.

  I still don’t answer him. If I just let them beat me, it’ll go away quicker.

  “You’re a freak, Will, do you know that?” Marcel hisses, leaning in closer.

  Of course I know that. I wouldn’t be pinned against a fence if I didn’t know that.

  Bullies are so dumb.

  Marcel raises his fist, and brings it down over my face, cracking my nose so hard blood spurts onto his shirt. I don’t cry out, because that’s what he wants, but the pain radiating through my head is nearly enough to make me beg. Nearly. Marcel takes hold of my shirt, and his grey eyes scan my face. He’s panting, as though I’ve shoved him into the alley and challenged him. Like this is my fault. The world is twisted like that, and it’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.

  “You know,” he growls, locking eyes with me, “I heard my girl saying how handsome you were the other day. Do you know how much it sucks to have my girl saying that a freak is handsome? Especially a freak hislly a fthat’s only, what? Thirteen years old? Your dick would be no bigger than a tube of damned lipstick, yet she thinks you’re handsome.”

  I wouldn’t know how much it sucks to have a girl say that because I don’t have a girl.

  Again, bullies are dumb.

  “Don’t answer me, you little twerp. It doesn’t matter. By the time you leave this alley, I’ll make sure you’re not handsome anymore. I won’t have my competition being some little weasel that can’t even speak.”

  Blood fills my mouth, and my nose is pounding so heavily I’m almost sure I can hear my own heart in my head. I don’t take my eyes from Marcel. They say look danger right in the eye; it gives you power and strength. I don’t feel powerful right now. In fact, I don’t really feel anything. Someone like me doesn’t fight. I’m the underdog, and underdogs are weak. Everyone knows it.

  Marcel reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a little vial of something, I don’t know what. The heart that feels like it’s in my head begins thumping even harder.

  I try not to show fear. I try to stand tall and take what he dishes out with strength, but that’s not so easy when your attacker is as crazy as mine.

  “She said it was your eyes,” he begins, lazily tracing circles on his palm with the vial. “She said they’re the most stunning eyes she’s ever seen. Like the ocean.”

  I didn’t know my eyes were like the ocean.

  He takes hold of my shirt, yanking me close. “No one is more appealing to my girl, than me.”

  They say bad things happen in slow motion; they’re right. I feel Marcel throw me down onto the floor. I feel every movement as my body slams into the dirt. I feel his body weight coming over me, his knees pinning me down as I squirm. I feel his friend take my arms, pulling them above my head, while another puts a hand over my mouth. With my nose pouring with blood, it makes it difficult to breathe.

  I feel someone digging his fingers into the sides of my head, holding me still as Marcel unscrews the little vial of liquid in his hand. He reaches down, shoving his fingers into my eye, causing it to water and burn. I scream and twist, trying to get away. He punches me again, causing me to begin spinning out—blood fills my mouth. Then he holds my eye open, and he tips the liquid into it. My screams intensify as what feels like fire sinks into my eye.

  It feels like it’s burning through my flesh.

  Oh god, it hurts. It hurts so badly.

  The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Words cannot begin to explain the horror I feel as darkness invades my body. I feel the liquid sliding down the side of my face to my ear, burning everything as it goes.

  I try to free my hands. I need to wipe it off. God, it hurts, someone please get it off. I can’t get my hands out, though; the boys are holding me down and they’re too strong. So I do the only thing I can in my last moment of sheer desperation. I turn my head, and I bite the hand closest to me, drawing blood.

  I don’t know what they’re saying, or even acknowledge the moment when they run away. All I know is that I am bleeding heavily in an alley, and my eye is being burned with a lethal chemical. Red fills my vision as the blood begins to cover every part of my face. I know I’m still screaming, even though I can’t hear it. All I can hear is an excessive ringing in my ears. I can’t even move my hands to cover my eye in an attempt to protect the burning orb. I can do nothing but lay and scream, experiencing a pain that I’ll never witness again mytness ain my life, and wondering what I did to deserve it.

  No one deserves to die.

  But I did die, that day.

  And in my place, a monste

  r was born.

  CHAPTER ONE

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  My knees scrape across the jagged concrete as a large, hooded man clutches my hair and pulls me along. My mouth is covered, and breathing has become problematic. Tears well under my eyelids as we come to a stop, and my skin has a chance to begin a deep, penetrating burn. I can feel the warm blood that runs down my legs, and my throat stings with the bile that has been rising up and down for the past three hours. My body is suddenly jerked off the ground, and before I can register what’s happening, I’m being thrown into a large, wooden crate.

  “We have to move them, and we have to move them now. They’ve been purchased, and they’ve been requested to be delivered in top condition,” a male voice grunts out.

  Through my hazy vision, I can see there are two other girls in here with me. Both are equally as battered. I can hear the shrill shrieking from the crate beside me, and the sound has my body tensing and quivering. A sick sensation clenches my stomach and I try to focus my attention away from the screaming girl, and instead try and listen to what’s happening around me. Information is key, and in a situation such as this, it could likely save my life.

  If I have a life left to save.

  “He wanted ten,” a male voice says. “It’s like he hand-picked them. Fucking strange if you ask me. I heard he is gathering them from other places, too, like off the streets.”

  I don’t know who they’re talking about. I don’t even remember how I ended up here. My mind is a fuzzy mess, and I can’t even recall my own name. My body has been pumped full of so many drugs I don’t know left from right.

  I have brief bouts of consciousness before they come along and drive a needle into my neck again. Then I slip away, god only knows for how long. It’s hard to know where you’re going when you spend half the time unconscious.

  I hear a small broken cry from behind me, and I shift my bound body to focus on the two girls, also bound and gagged. They’ve got tears running down their faces, and they look as terrified as I feel. The girl to my left is rocking backwards and forward, her hands tied tightly in front of her. The one to my right is staring silently at me, like a part of her is hoping I’ll save her, or maybe just tell her how we ended up here. I don’t have an answer for her. I’m as clueless as she is.

  “I just threw the tenth girl in,” a man barks. “Let’s move.”

  The lid to the crate slams closed, and my heart rate picks up. I squirm, not wanting to be crammed into this tiny little crate for god only knows how long. I hear a curse, and then someone barks an order. The crate lid is swung back open, and I look up to see a dark-haired man leaning down with a needle in his hand. My squirming becomes more persistent and I shake my head, using my feet to shove myself further back against the crate. It’s no use; the man plunges a needle into my neck, sending a sharp, scorching pain through my body, and then he steps back, smashing the lid closed again. I turn my eyes to the girl staring at me, and she shakes her head softly.

  I know what she’s telling me.

  It’s no use.
<
br />   ~*~*~*~

  NUMBER THIRTEEN

  The aches radiating through my body rouse me from my haze. It takes me a few moments to be able to blink my eyes and force them open. When I do, I’m in complete darkness. I try to move my body only to feel that I’m still bound, but the gag in my mouth is gone. I force myself into a sitting position, and cry out in pain as my body fills with a prickling sensation. My arms are numb from lack of circulation, and every slight movement is complete agony. It only confirms that I’ve been in that position for a long time, possibly overnight.

  I press my back against a cold, possibly stone, wall. I try to focus on the noises around me, but there are none. I can’t hear the other girls; I can’t hear voices. I can’t hear anything at all except the sound of my own breathing. My throat is dry and burning, and I feel as though I’ve not had water for days. It’s likely I haven’t, and with all these drugs, my body must be going into protection mode, trying to save what it can.

  I sit like that for more than two hours. I know this because I start counting, waiting to see when my next dose of drugs will be, and trying to get some sort of understanding on how this works. If I know when to expect them, then maybe I have more chance at escape.

  I hear mumbled male voices, and then a light flickers on. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to my surroundings. I’m in a tiny room, with no windows and only one door. That door is solid metal, with minuscule bars blocking a window at the very top. The floor is concrete, and the walls are, in fact, stone. This isn’t a room; it’s a cell. Even in my haze I know that.

  The door rattles, and slowly creaks open. I set my eyes on the space, waiting to see who will come in. Three men enter the room, all with their faces covered by masks with eyeholes and a tiny nose slot. They’ve each got two girls, clutching them by the chains that are shackling their wrists together. They thrust the girls onto the ground, and then they disappear, coming back a moment later with another two each. They dump them on the floor, too, before turning and slamming the large, metal door, leaving us alone together.