by S. M. Soto
Ache © 2019
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 S.M. Soto
Cover and book design by Mae I Design & Photography
ISBN: 978-1-3860-1002-9
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
THE CHAOS SERIES
Deception and Chaos
Blood and Chaos
Love and Chaos
THE SAN DIEGAN SERIES
The Darkest Hour
Scoring the Quarterback
Damaged Heart
COMING SOON
A Cruel Love
Kiss Me with Lies
Listen on Spotify!
Lovely – Billie Ellish ft. Khlaid
Infinity – Jaymes Young
Say You Won’t Let Go – James Arthur
Eastside – Benny Blanco, Halsey & Khalid
Collide – Rachel Platten
Young and Beautiful – Land Del Rey
Be Alright – Dean Lewis
RPG – Kehlani ft. 6LACK
Let Me Down Slowly – Alec Benjamin
Beautiful – Bazzi ft. Camila Cabello
Dusk Till Dawn – ZAYN ft. Sia
Perfect – Ed Sheeran
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Acknowledgements
Help Resources
Scoring the Quarterback Preview
About the Author
Some aspects of this story may be sensitive for readers. If you have sexual violence/abuse triggers, please read on with caution.
Turning my head, the fresh smell of grass wafts around me as I stare at the side of his handsome face in complete awe. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, I fell in love with this beautiful boy next to me, and an even greater miracle is the fact that he loves me too.
“Liam?”
He turns his head and meets my questioning stare head on with inquisitive brows.
“Will you promise to love me forever? No matter what?”
He doesn’t smile, his face is a blank mask. But his eyes…his eyes tell a different story. There’s so much to be read in his eyes, it makes my heart flutter, and I flush. Liam reaches out, gently placing a strand of hair behind my ear, and caresses my face reverently.
“My sweet little Bea. There’s no force on this earth that can ever make me stop loving you. I will love you until the day I die, sweet girl. That’s a promise.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I give him a watery smile.
“Always?”
“And forever, baby,” he whispers as he cradles my face and places his mouth over mine in a soft caress.
We pull away, and I rest my head on his warm chest. We watch the sun fade behind the lush tall grass of the field, and the rainbow of colors that fall over us. I close my eyes and listen to the beat of his heart until it synchronizes with the beat of my own.
The twisting of my doorknob sends a shiver of dread through my body. My eyes fling open and my heart rate accelerates.
Please don’t let it be him, the small voice in my head says. But I know it’s him. It's the same routine every night. He barges into my room and takes everything from me.
The door creaks on its hinges, closing with a soft click. My heart pounds within the confines of my chest, a cool sweat creeping over my body. I clench my eyes shut, my breath turning into frightened pants. His footsteps grow closer. My body tenses, and coils tightly just thinking about what’s next. He crawls over my stiff body, and my stomach churns. He smells like her. Bile rises in my throat, and I will the burning in my eyes to fade. He shoves his face in my neck, inhaling with a soft groan. It’s sickening. His hardness pokes me in my thigh, and my breath freezes. I hope and pray that this time will be different than the rest. But it’s not. It never is.
Within seconds my pajama bottoms and underwear are shoved down my legs, and his hands are frantically freeing himself. I make no move to stop him anymore. It’s no use. White hot, searing pain erupts between my thighs. His hands grip my wrists above my head, effectively trapping me—caging me in. His movements feel like a serrated blade within me. His excited pants blow across the side of my face. My lip trembles with the need to sob, but I can’t. My tears excite him. I force my mind to go somewhere else. I think of the only thing that makes me happy.
I think about the boy I fell in love with.
The boy that promised he’d love me forever.
The same boy that ripped my heart in half, leaving me for dead at the hands of him.
I think of him because regardless of all the pain he’s caused, a very small piece of my now shattered heart still loves him. He holds every good memory that can get me through this.
Opening my eyes, I stare blankly at the galaxy of stars painted on my ceiling as he thrusts inside of me with all his strength. My mind wanders, and slowly my body begins to thaw, and goes blessedly numb.
I've become so accustomed to this that I don't feel anything anymore. I count the stars on the ceiling over and over until eventually the pain stops altogether. A thick hand wraps tightly around my throat, jerking my face away from the ceiling, snatching me out of the safety of my mind. My eyes land on a pair of dead, cold, brown ones. The sneer on his face is malicious; filled with pure hatred. His nails dig into my skin, until I wince at the sting. The weight of his palm crushes my windpipe, blocking my airflow. He crashes his lips down over mine and takes my mouth in a brutal kiss. He bites on my bottom lip until he draws blood. Finally satisfied with his work tonight, he lifts his sweaty body off mine, and leaves the room without a care in the world.
One single tear slips out of the corner of my eye, trailing into my hair. I shift my eyes back to the ceiling, unable to move. My numb reprieve is slowly fading, while my reality is seeping in. It's always the same. The rape, the threat and the tears. I've stopped praying that someone will help me. It's hopeless. No one cares enough to stop and open their eyes. My mother left with her new husband, leaving her only daughter in the hands of a sick monster, and the boy I loved ripped my heart out the day he left.
I’ve lost everything.
Including myself.
I roll out of bed the next morning, listening for any noises in the house indicating he’s still here. The house is silent, only the sounds of chirping birds can be heard outside my window. Figuring it’s safe, I drag myself out of my bedroom into the kitchen for food. After making a simple plate of eggs and toast, I pour myself a glass of orange juice. I freeze mid pour when I hear voices down the hallway growing louder as t
hey travel into the kitchen. Every hair on my body stands at attention at the sound of his voice. My muscles tense, my jaw tightens, and I clench my eyes shut.
I feel him before he even has a chance to enter the kitchen. The hate I have for him radiates off me in waves, permeating the space around us. I hate being this close to him. I hate every part of him. I set the jug of orange juice down on the white marble counter with a large thud once they enter. Keeping my head down, I grab my plate, and discretely try to escape the kitchen while I still have a chance.
“Good morning, Bea. You’re so quiet, I completely forgot you were here,” Jenny says, placing a soft hand on my shoulder, halting my escape. Her hand sears into my skin making me flinch and I jerk away from her. My eyes widen in horror, and my body burns at her touch—anyone’s touch for that matter. Her eyes soften, and she quickly moves her hand out of my space, immediately realizing her mistake.
“I’m so sorry, Bea,” she whispers. “I forgot you don’t like to be touched. I promise it won’t happen again.” She graces me with a sad smile before turning to make herself some coffee. I will my rapidly beating heart to slow and try to steady my hands that are trembling so hard, my eggs are quaking.
I can feel his stare on me. Those lifeless eyes burn holes through the side of my head, incinerating me.
“You should really try to get more sleep, hon. You look like you haven’t slept in days. Your mom is going to worry when she sees you,” Jenny says with her back to me as she makes her coffee at the counter. I clench my jaw as anger surges through me.
If I could sleep at night I would, but I can’t. Your boyfriend makes sure of it.
“Oh Connor, that reminds me, your parents are coming home this weekend. Don’t forget, babe.” Jenny turns to him, taking a sip of her coffee. Connor’s face sours at the thought of his father and my mother coming home. “Why do you get so upset whenever they come home?” Jenny questions with furrowed brows as she takes in Connor’s brittle expression. He doesn’t bother answering, instead he opens the fridge searching for something to eat before he leaves for work. But I know the answer. When they’re here, he worries I’ll speak up and tell. But I won’t.
I can’t.
He made damn sure of that a long time ago.
Jenny throws her arms around Connor, kissing him goodbye before they both leave for work like a picture-perfect couple. The display of affection makes bile rise to my throat. He disgusts me. My nostrils flare with every inhale as I try to control my impending sickness. He’s been with Jenny for as long as I can remember, they met in college and have been “inseparable” ever since, but for some awful reason he still comes into my room every night. Even on the nights she sleeps over, he still crawls into my bed, and takes everything that was never his to take. She never suspects a thing. And that’s what hurts the most.
Why can’t anyone just stop and really see what’s happening in our home?
I dart my eyes away, feeling my anger rise. Slipping out of the kitchen with my food, I scurry down the hallway, into my bedroom, and close the door behind me for protection. I don’t know why I do it. It’s not like this door has ever protected me in any way.
No one has.
When I know for certain they’ve both left for work, I finally come out of my bedroom and walk into the living room, feet shuffling like a zombie. I curl my small body into the ottoman placed in front of the window. It gives me a full view of my neighbor’s two-story house.
I sit in the chair, like always, silently waiting for her to come out. I do the same thing every morning. It’s the only way I feel close to her. Myrah hops out of her house with a joyous pep in her step, her cute blonde bob swaying back and forth around her heart shaped face. I don’t know where she goes every morning or why she’s so happy, but I wish I had some clue.
Her feet falter when she shifts her gaze over her shoulder and sees me staring through the window. Her smile falls, and I can see the tremble of her lips from here. She lifts her hand in my direction, giving me a small wave. I don’t return the gesture. I don’t even blink. Instead, I sit like an unmoving stone, staring blankly ahead. Her hand falls beside her in defeat, and she whirls around, getting into her car without a look back at me. As she pulls out of her driveway and down the street, I try to remember the girl she used to know. The girl I used to be.
PAST
NINE YEARS AGO—SUMMER OF 2009
“What about this color, Bea? I promise it will look so good on you,” Myrah says with hope in her voice. I eye the polish in her hand speculatively and scrunch my face up.
“But that’s green, Myrah.”
“Oh c’mon, it’s more like a mint green. It’ll look great I promise.”
I relent with a sigh, and my best friend hops up and down, unable to contain her excitement. She paints my nails and toenails, and I do the same for her once mine are dried—she, of course, chooses fire engine red. After painting each other’s nails, we throw on our favorite movie, Mean Girls, and sit huddled up together on her bed eating a bowl of popcorn smothered in butter.
“I can’t believe my mom’s actually going through with it.” I sigh out halfway into the movie. We’ve just gotten to the part where Cady asks Aaron Samuels for help on an equation in Ms. Norbury’s math class, even though she already knows the correct answer.
Myrah’s face saddens.
“Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.” She offers with a shrug.
I nibble on my bottom lip in contemplation. She’s probably right. It’s just been me and my mother for as long as I can remember. How can I possibly tell her I don’t want her to move in her new husband?
“You’re right. Who knows, maybe I’ll end up enjoying having an older brother?”
“Exactly, Bea. He might turn out to be a really awesome older brother. Sometimes I wish Evan was still here. Ever since he left for college, I feel like we never even talk. I’m just glad my cousin will be here to keep us company.”
My brows pull together in a frown, and I turn to face her. “What cousin?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” she says excitedly, nudging me in my thigh. “My cousin Liam is staying with us for a while. He kept getting into a lot of trouble back home, so his mom and dad are sending him here with us, hoping he’ll clean up his act. He’s a few years older than us, but Liam’s really cool. I think you’ll like him.”
I smile at the excited look on her face and find myself excited too. I can’t wait to meet her cousin. Myrah’s older brother, Evan, was way older than us, eight years to be exact, but we always had a lot of fun with him when he was living at home. If it’s any indication, Myrah’s excitement over her cousin most likely means we’ll have a good time. Maybe having someone else around will help me forget that my mom’s new husband, and my stepbrother are moving in by the end of the week. I shiver at the thought.
“Bea!” My mom yells down the hallway, her loud voice trailing into my room. “Myrah’s on the phone for you!”
I hop off my bed and sprint to the kitchen for the phone. I’ve been waiting for her call all day, or at least that’s what it feels like. My mom hands the phone to me with a disapproving shake of her head.
“Why do you two insist on calling each other when we live right next door? I swear you girls are joined at the hip.” My mother mumbles as she walks away. I giggle, placing the receiver against my ear.
“Myrah?”
“He’s here! C’mon Bea, I can’t wait for you guys to meet,” she rambles excitedly into the phone. We don’t even bother saying bye, I slam the phone onto the receiver and hurry out the door toward her house at a full sprint.
I knock on her front door, all the while trying to control my rapid breathing after my short sprint across our lawns. Myrah swings the door open, her face brimming with excitement, the dimples in her cheeks out in full force. She grips my hand and pulls me inside, and we both giggle uncontrollably.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, bye Mr. and Mrs. Robertson,” I say with a laug
h, following after Myrah. We fly up the stairs to the guest bedroom her cousin is using. The door is cracked, and there’s movement behind it. She doesn’t bother knocking, instead just pushes the door open pulling me inside.
And that’s when I see him.
My feet stop. My breathing stops.
And I swear, even my heart freezes mid-beat in my chest.
Everything just stops.
Liam wasn’t your average boy…oh no, there was nothing boyish about him. As my gaze travels up and down Myrah’s cousin, I know without a shadow of a doubt, he’s trouble—wrapped in one beautiful package.
His hand freezes above his suitcase when we barge in, and his eyes immediately fall on me—glued to mine. My stomach does something weird in that first moment, when his eyes meet mine. Something flutters inside of me, the force so strong I feel like I might puke from it. I place a trembling hand over my belly, willing the sensation to cease.
I’ve never had a boyfriend before, I’ve truthfully never even thought about it. I mean, why would I? I’m only thirteen. So why am I suddenly thinking about it now just from looking at him?
He has a head of dark shaggy hair, longer on the top than it is at the sides, and a pair of the brightest blue eyes. The color is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It reminds me of those snow dogs, Husky’s I think they’re called. The ones with bright, and hypnotizing eyes. His clothes are nice—expensive looking. Even wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans, his clothes look better than both mine and Myrah’s.
Just staring at Liam, I can finally see the appeal of having a boyfriend. All the girls at school have already had their first kiss, including Myrah.
Everyone except for me.
All our friends used to think Myrah’s older brother was hot, but I never saw it. Evan was always just Evan, like an annoying older brother. But staring at Liam, I know something is happening inside of me that shouldn’t be happening.
