by Sammy King
Authors Note
Thank you so much for purchasing this new book “Bruised Angel” This story has been the toughest for me to write. It kept me up at night, Mason and Chelsea took over my entire brain, not allowing me to sleep until I had written it out.
Now that I have I can’t be more thrilled with it. It is a hard story to read and no doubt everyone has experienced some of what Chelsea and Mason have, whether it be the loss of a loved one or an assault at the hands of a family member that was supposed to love you and keep you safe.
This story does have trigger subjects in it such as self-mutilation, suicide and abuse. So please if you find yourself having thoughts of suicide or hurting yourself contact someone, even if it’s a parent, friend or teacher. Don’t keep it to yourself, people will and can help you!
As always my stories have a soundtrack. For this one the list is as following:
“Human Race” Three days Grace
“Angels Fall” Breaking Benjamin
“Fallen Angel” Three days Grace
“Have a great flight” Yelawolf
“Jolene” Louise Addams
“Till it’s gone” Yelawolf
“Say you’ll haunt me” Stone Sour
“Tears don’t fall” Bullet for my Valentine
“Hail to the King” Avenged Sevenfold
“Crimson Day” Avenged Sevenfold
“Duality” Slipknot
“Happy?” Mudvayne
“I won’t give in” Asking Alexandria
“It’s not Over” Daughtry
“The sound of Silence” Disturbed
“Outlaw Shit” Struggle (feat. Yelawolf and Waylon Jennings)
“Deep Six” Marilyn Manson
“The Last Fight” Bullet for my Valentine
I hope you enjoy this latest story and please if you do, leave a review so others know to give it a go as well.
Love you all
Sammy
Xx
“Have a Great Flight” Yelawolf
Where’s my calling angel?
At the coffin.
Where’s my blue sky?
At the coffin
A pretty bouquet and a red rose
At the coffin
Darling don’t cry
At the coffin
Over my soul.
I will take your favourite books and put them in a row
I remember how you like them, I know where they go
Your mama will be waiting there, for you to hold
I know that she misses you, misses you so.
So have a great flight
Have a great flight outta here, I suppose.
I know you raised me right, but you must go, I suppose
So have a great flight
Have a great flight outta here, I suppose.
I know you raised me right, but you must go, I suppose.
I will keep your memories, they always make me smile
Letting you go honestly, I’m having a tough time
I promise I’ll be strong for you, like you said and hold it in the road
But, I’ve been out here missing you, missing you so
So have a great flight
Have a great flight outta here, I suppose
I know you raised me right, but you must go, I suppose.
And nothing did ever feel so real
But this time, my time, my mind is gone
Turn the lights back on, baby I’m in the next room
But is it gonna be long till I see you again?
Chapter One
The sirens pierced Chelsea’s ears as she ran, her lungs burned under the weight of her heavy breathing. Tears blurred her eyes and stung upon her cheeks as she tore around the corner slamming into the body that stood against the wall.
“Whoa there Shorty”
Chelsea recognised the voice of Mason a boy whom she had been to school with since kindergarten. She attempted to brush him aside and run past, but Mason stood well over six foot tall and had the typical footballer’s body; full of muscle. He reached up and grabbed at her shoulders, holding Chelsea still. She angrily wiped at her tears to clear her eyes and when she looked up into his face she could read the look of concern.
“What’s going on Chels?” Mason asked, his voice lowered as he spoke softly and gently to her.
Chelsea shook her head, she wanted to speak but could only manage what sounded like a gargled groan. The sirens grew louder and closer, Chelsea grabbed Mason’s arms and spun him around, pushing herself tight against the wall. His face read confusion as he looked over his shoulder to see the ambulance followed by police car race past the street they were hidden down.
“Chelsea, what the hell?” he said taking her hand in his.
Mason dragged her through the gate of what she knew was the chapter house for the Kings of Darkness, a motorbike club that many people feared and protested throughout the city. Mason pulled her into the yard that surrounded the very unassuming house, a few men sat in garden chairs around the fire.
“Whose yer girly friend Mas?” a thin wiry man with no teeth and ratty features called out.
Mason waved his hand dismissively.
“Not now Duggar” he replied with a frown on his face.
If Chelsea hadn’t been on the verge of an anxiety attack she would have found the whole situation quite amusing. She knew that Mason was the son of the President of the Kings of Darkness, she had heard the rumours of how bad they were, but Chelsea had never been there, in fact her and Mason hadn’t really had a lot to do with each other except for sharing the odd handful of classes throughout the years.
Mason held Chelsea’s hand tight in his as he dragged her into a room that contained a bed, desk, stereo and football trophies. Chelsea glanced around the room and realised it must have been Mason’s bedroom.
“Right you’re safe here, now what’s going on?” Mason asked, leading her to sit on the bed next to him.
“Oh Mason I fucked up, I fucked up real bad” she said shaking her head, her voice cracked as she covered her face with her hands and tears slipped through her fingers.
Mason reached across and touched her shoulder lightly, moving Chelsea’s hair from her face.
“What do you mean Chelsea? What did you do?” he asked quietly.
Chelsea looked up into Mason’s face. He was a really handsome guy. Mason was part of the popular group at school, being a footballer. Chelsea tended to be a bit of a loner, she preferred art and spent most of her time holed up in the art room lost in her paintings, which were usually dark in theme. The other kids never took the time to understand her art, they never took the time to ask her what it was about and instead they called her an emo and asked if she was going to go cut herself.
After every school break there was always at least one comment about the fact that Chelsea was still alive that she hadn’t let the knife slip up the river to kill herself. It was usually Mason’s friends that made the comments. Mason never said anything which she appreciated but then he never stood up for her either. So she didn’t know whether she could trust him. However, there in his bedroom, the sound of sirens still lingering in Chelsea’s ears she didn’t know if she would have a choice.
Chelsea lowered her head into her hands again as a wave of nausea filled her stomach. She shot her head up looking around for something to vomit in. Mason must have been able to read the look on her face because just as the vomit forced its way from her lips he shoved a bin under her. Chelsea knew she would be embarrassed after this was over, but at that moment she felt good to know that Mason was there trying to support her. He sat rubbing her back until the heaving stopped and she sat up. Mason handed Chelsea a tissue and she da
bbed her mouth, he took the bin from her and left the room, she could hear a tap get turned on and he soon returned with a glass of water for her. Chelsea looked up at Mason and smiled slightly as she took the glass with a shaky hand.
Mason sat back down on the bed and continued to rub her back as she gulped down the water. She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. Mason instinctively kissed her head and she was grateful for the affection.
“Now tell me what has happened Chels” he said.
Chelsea looked up at him and closed her eyes, trying to push the images from her brain.
“I shot my father” she said, opening her eyes to see Mason quickly try to wipe the look of shock off his face.
“Why?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.
Chelsea shook her head and tears flowed down her cheeks again. With his thumb he began to wipe at the tears, taking her other hand in his.
“Chels, there must have been a reason for you to shoot him” Mason said his eyes roamed her face, trying to read her.
Chelsea nodded her head.
“Many years of reasons” she said with a sigh.
Mason nodded his head.
“Where is the gun Chelsea?” Mason asked.
Chelsea frowned, her mind went blank; she couldn’t remember what she did with the gun; after she saw the blood oozing from her father she had ran. Chelsea cast her mind back, her father with that horrid look on his face, his stinking breath raping her nostrils as he crudely grabbed at her breast. She had the cold gun in her hand and felt it recoil as she pulled the trigger. Her father’s eyes widened as the realisation of what she had done to him sunk in. He fell to his knees with a hard thud and Chelsea looked down at him as he reached for his stomach, blood had begun to ooze through his fingers, a coppery smell replaced the rancid smell of his booze laced breath.
“You cunt. You fucking piece of shit, you fucking slut. You shot me” he roared.
Chelsea shook her head as she backed away from her father who was beginning to slump forward and gurgle, as he spat abuse at her. She turned and ran for the door, she hadn’t looked back until she ran into Mason.
“The gun Chelsea, what did you do with it?” she heard Mason ask again.
Chelsea shook her head and pulled the gun from the waistband of her pants. She heard Mason inhale a sharp breath over his teeth. He reached out took the gun from her, opening the barrel to check for bullets before putting it on the bed behind them.
Suddenly the door burst open and a man encompassing the whole doorway stood menacingly. Chelsea let out a yelp in fear and felt her whole body tense. Mason rubbed his thumb on the palm of her hand.
“Dad” he said. “Do you remember Chelsea?”
The man in the door smiled a crooked smile. She looked between Mason and his Dad, she could definitely see the resemblance. They both were tall and full of muscle. Both had dark almost black hair with dark brown eyes and when they smiled both had a crooked smile that made them look like they were planning something.
“Nice to see you Chelsea, my name is Knox. I haven’t seen you since you were a little tacker” Knox said reaching out a hand to envelope Chelsea’s.
Chelsea smiled weakly.
“That would be true, it’s been a long time” she said.
Suddenly Knox’s eyes landed on the gun that sat on Mason’s bed. He frowned and pointed at the gun.
“What the fuck is that?” he said through gritted teeth.
Mason stood up.
“Chelsea’s in trouble Dad” Mason said.
Knox’s eyes snapped to Chelsea and she dropped her head, unable to look at him.
“What kind of trouble” he asked quietly.
“She shot her Dad” Mason said.
Chelsea looked up to see Knox, his dark eyes narrowed watching her. He nodded slightly and reached for the chair that was tucked neatly under the desk at the side of the room, before sitting on it.
“Alright, girl, what happened?” he asked as he leant back into the chair and folded his arms across his ample chest.
Mason sat on the bed again beside Chelsea and put a protective arm around her shoulders. She didn’t know if she could trust Mason and his Dad, but she didn’t feel like she had a choice. Even if they handed her over to the cops it wouldn’t matter, she was in trouble no matter what happened.
“He was going to rape me” she said quietly lowering her head.
Knox growled and she felt Mason’s arm stiffen around her shoulder. When she looked up again Knox ran his hand over his face and up through his hair that hung loosely around his shoulders. There was a knock on the door and they all looked up to see the man Mason called Duggar standing in the door way.
“What do you want Duggar?” Mason practically roared.
Duggar waved his hand and nervously bit at his thumb nail.
“Nothing, it can wait” he said as he turned and left.
Knox growled deep in his throat again before turning to look back at Chelsea.
“Ok I think if you want us to help you, you need to tell us the whole story” Knox said.
Chelsea stood suddenly and shook her head.
“I didn’t want your help. I ran into Mason and he dragged me in here” Chelsea said, her voice becoming shrill, with panic at the thought of having to tell her whole story. “It’s alright. I’ll go.”
Chelsea stepped towards Knox to get past him and out the door, but his big meaty arm shot out preventing her from passing. Chelsea felt bile rise again in her throat and tears prickle at her eyes.
“Please, just let me go. I will go back to the house and hand myself in” she pleaded.
Knox’s eyes softened as he looked at her and stood. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. She could smell his scent which was of sweat and grease, not the putrid smell that her father carried around her. Knox patted her hair and pulled her away from him, looking down into her face.
“Chelsea I’ve known you since you were knee high. I knew you before your mother left you. I have your back. Now please come sit and tell me what happened to you all these years, let us help you” he said with a soft voice.
Chelsea nodded and turned sitting back on the bed beside Mason, who pulled her into his chest.
“I don’t want everyone to know, please Mason, don’t tell everyone” she pleaded.
Mason frowned and nodded his head.
“Chelsea do you really think I would do that?” he asked, a sense of hurt threaded through his voice.
Chelsea shook her head.
“I don’t know Mason, I hear the way your friends talk about me, I know the names they call me, I don’t want to be the little freak that you tell everyone about” she said sniffing back a sob.
Mason shook his head.
“Oh Chelsea. I’m not like them. You don’t hear me telling them not to say those things, you don’t hear them call me names for sticking up for you. I promise I won’t tell anyone anything” he said pulling her into an embrace.
Chelsea sniffed again and nodded her head. She sat up and looked between Knox and Mason before finding a spot on her shoe to concentrate on while she told them her story. The memories flooded her mind, memories that made her nauseous.
Chelsea was an only child, born to her mother Maggie and father Carl. Maggie always said that Chelsea was small for her age, she seemed frail and was happy to play on her own. Not that she had a lot of choice, growing up most kids wanted nothing to do with her, the older Chelsea got the more she realised it was because the parents didn’t want their children to go Chelsea’s house. When Chelsea was five Maggie disappeared. Chelsea remembered it clearly, she ran into her parents’ bedroom to wake her Mum up as she did every morning, but instead of Maggie being in the bed sleeping beside her father, there was a big buxom blonde with cigarette smoke oozing from her every pore. Chelsea asked Carl where Maggie was to which she received her first ever slap across the face. Chelsea was so hurt, she didn’t understand what was going on. Her fa
ther had never raised a hand to her before and now her mother was gone and this awful stinking woman had taken her place.
Chelsea spent the whole day hidden under her bed, her father tried to coax her out for dinner, but Chelsea refused to move. She didn’t have any Grandparents and didn’t know any of her Aunts and Uncles. For the first time ever Chelsea experienced what it was to be abandoned. It wasn’t long after that first slap that she started to regularly receive beatings for various offences, some real and some made up. Chelsea learnt quickly to tip toe around her father, but it didn’t seem to make a difference, there was always something wrong. Carl would force her to stand in the lounge room with her pants down while he whipped her bottom with his belt and that stinking woman would sit with her leg cocked over the edge of the chair laughing, billowing cigarette smoke about her ugly fat head.
Chelsea remembered clearly the day that the beatings changed to molestations. She had come home from school, she was seven years old and as she tried to sneak in through the back door and slink down the hallway to her room, she heard Carl call her name. Chelsea’s heart sunk into the pit of her stomach as she turned and slowly started to the living room, where he stood in the middle, his belt in his hand and the fat stinking woman sat eagerly perched on the edge of her seat. Carl pointed to the centre of the room in front of him, where Chelsea slowly moved to and lifted her skirt, dropping her panties on the ground, preparing herself for the stinging whack of the belt.
This time her father instead began to touch her roughly about her bottom and genitals. Chelsea’s eyes prickled with tears and when he forced her to spread her legs a rogue tear streamed down her face.
“Don’t you dare cry” the fat woman screamed into Chelsea’s face, spittle splashing on her skin.
Chelsea shuddered and felt the urge to vomit begin to rise. The sudden sting on her face from the fat hand of the disgusting woman shook the tears away and the vomit swallowed back down into her stomach.
That night Chelsea sobbed silently in her bed, crying for her Mum to come back and save her. Carl had never been mean to her before, he had never touched her like that, his cuddles had always just been cuddles, they never hurt before and they never made her feel sick. Chelsea didn’t understand what had happened to her father.
