by Evie Harper
YOU LOVED ME AT MY UGLIEST
Copyright © 2015 by Evie Harper
Published by Evie Harper, First Edition July 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. Except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For permission requests, email the author at [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places are incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy of each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was no purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover Design: Louisa Maggio at LM Creations
Editing: Becky Johnson, Hot Tree Editing
Images: Shutterstock
Dedication
I dedicate this story to all those who have sacrificed, agonized and fought for a second chance. To those who have made mistakes and owned them, who built better tomorrows for themselves and for the ones they love.
Books by Evie
YOU LOVED ME
You Loved Me At My Darkest (Lily and Jake)
You Loved Me At My Weakest (Emily and Kayne)
You Loved Me At My Ugliest (Alexa and Joseph)
PORTLAND STREET KINGS
Collision (Slater and Piper)
Fatal (Mack and Lana) - Coming late 2015
Tail (Della and Dom) – Coming early 2016
Pursue (Kelso and Ivy) – Coming mid 2016
Drifting (Pacer and Sophie) – Coming mid 2016
THE O’CONNOR BROTHERS
William – Coming late 2016
Alexander – Coming late 2016
Matthew – Coming late 2016
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
BOOKS BY EVIE
CONNECT WITH EVIE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELEVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINTEEN
EPILOGUE
SNEEK PEAK FROM COLLISION
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
VIP READERS
MORE FROM EVIE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Prologue
Sitting on his bed playing with his fire trucks, eight-year-old Joey crashed them together, imagining a world where he was the fireman saving the women, children, and their cats.
At the sound of someone running up the stairs of their two-story house, his head shot up and his eyes widened. Whimpers carried from outside his door, growing louder. It took but a moment to realize it was his mother.
Climbing down from his bed, he cautiously moved to his door. "Mommy?"
The whimpering stopped and silence filled the space.
He placed his ear to the wood and listened, before he shot back when his father’s rumbling, angry voice ruptured the quiet on the other side of the door.
"What did we already talk about, Mary? You’re to leave the boy alone. He needs to grow into a man, and having you fuss over him will only hinder him. He’s old enough now that he doesn’t need a mother. He needs to learn that love isn't real and comfort equals weakness.”
"Marco, he is my son. You can’t ban me from him.” His mom’s voice trembled, rising in pitch.
“I’m the man of this house,” his dad said with a voice of steel. “I can do as I please.”
"What happened to the man I married?” Joey’s mom shouted the question, but he heard her fear when she gasped.
"You knew who you married, Mary, a man who would find power at any cost, a man who will lay the world at your feet, whether or not you’re alive to enjoy it.” His father’s determined tone wasn’t just a threat, it was filled with promise. “I will control everyone and everything around me. I will show my own father he was wrong. I’m going to make something of myself. I’ll dance on his grave when I’ve done what he never could." Marco’s voice dripped with sinister arrogance.
"Are you blind? You’re doing to your own son what was done to you. Look what you’ve turned into,” she screamed. “Is that what you want for our Joey?" she ended in a panicked whisper.
A hard thump on his bedroom door and a piercing scream from his mother caused Joey to jump, cover his mouth, and his tears to fall.
"Stop calling him that. It's Joseph, a real man’s name.” His tone was low and dangerous. “He’ll thank me when he's older, when he has the same desires to be powerful and wealthy. Our family name will be famous; the O'Connor's will be feared around the world."
“I won't let you harden him to become like you, uncaring. You'll have to kill me first." Joey edged closer to the door once more, hating the fear he could hear in his mother’s determined words.
"I won't kill you, Mary. I’ll break you down until there’s nothing left. I don’t love you, but you are mine, my property, and you will never escape me. We’re together forever, in life and death.” Joey flinched at his father’s words, his small body shaking and his hands clammy. He wanted to speak up, yell through the door at his father to leave his mother alone. He wanted to race to her rescue, but he was frightened, too terrified of what his father might do to him. All he wanted was his mother’s warm arms around him, telling him everything would be okay.
"I’ll leave you, take our son, or die trying before I let you turn him into you." He heard her growing anger and winced in anticipation, stepping even closer to the door while praying his mother could win this fight.
A scream burst free from his mother a moment after her threat, causing Joey to yell out in terror and back away from the door. A heavy thud to the ground caused the floorboards beneath his feet to shake.
Suddenly, his door was pushed open, and his wide, scared eyes found his father’s furious ones.
Marco stood tall in the doorway, blocking the only exit.
Joey’s gaze travelled to the ground behind his father, only to find his mother unconscious on the floor with blood smeared under her nose and across her lips.
"What are you doing?"
Joey’s eyes swung back to his father. Fear cemented his mouth closed and he failed to form any words.
"Were you listening in on our conversation?" Marco asked, his lips curling to a sneer.
Lowering his eyes, Joey shook his head, takin
g small steps backward, away from his enraged father.
His father pointed to his mother’s body. "You see what happens when I’m disobeyed. Do you see what your mother forced me to do? Look closely, boy, because this is what will happen to you if you do the same."
Joey nodded quickly, still too afraid to speak, but his fear didn’t stop his hands from shaking.
"Get a good look, son. This is where women belong, under us, serving us. Your mother has to learn that you’re now old enough not to need her. You’ll no longer go to her for play or for stories. You may speak to her only at our dinners and events. I’ll bring in a maid and tutor to take care of your needs. I’ll also teach you the ways of the O'Connor's. One day, you’ll thank me for pulling you away from her. She will only bring you down. You need to learn not to feel, not to care. Nothing in this life is worth caring about except power and money."
His chest burned with every demand and instruction his father gave and his heartbeat seemed to slow. Spots flashed in his vision at the new world forming before him. He was unable to fathom not having his mother sing to him when he had bad dreams, not having her cut his sandwiches into fun shapes, or make his baths the perfect temperature, or even to tuck him in at night and kiss each of his cheeks. It was all too much. She was the only one who would tell him how much she loved him, and how one day he was going to grow up to be a wonderful man. Memories of a childhood lost burst into flames right before his eyes and his young heart shattered, pieces breaking off with razor-sharp edges.
Joey stared at his father with glassy eyes. He wished with everything in him that this wasn’t happening. He wanted to go back to playing with his fire trucks and pretending that he was a strong, brave fireman.
"Say goodbye to her, boy. Next time you see your mother, make sure you stay away from her, or you will get the metal end of my belt on your back, understood?"
The burn intensified in Joey’s chest, and he nodded immediately, hoping not to upset his father further.
Satisfied, Marco turned and slammed Joey’s door closed.
He listened as his father grunted at what Joey assumed was the effort of his father picking up his mother’s still unconscious body.
Tears spilled down his face as he walked to his bed. Picking up his soft teddy, which he’d had all his life, he lay down and curled his body around the bear.
Fear and confusion swirled through his body like a thunderstorm.
Minutes later, screams pierced the house, his mother’s crystal clear cries of pain.
Jumping from his bed, Joey ran to his door, intent on racing to his mother to protect her this time. With his hand on the handle, he turned and tugged, but discovered it was locked. Desperate, he kicked and shouted, but no one came.
Falling to the floor in defeat, Joey cried himself to sleep, his mother’s screams of pain his new lullaby as they echoed through his home.
Beaten often, Joey and his mother still fought for each other, but in the end, they weren’t strong enough.
Chapter One
Past
Alexa
Stirring from my sleep, the heat of the morning sun warms my face through the crack of the curtains. I turn over and see Nick lying next to me, his outstretched hand touching my back, with a peaceful look upon his face.
I gently push his arm away so I can pull the blankets up over my shoulders, and then I turn toward the window and let my silent tears fall.
I miss him so much. Why couldn’t you choose me, Joey?
My heart splits in two as I lie next to a good man who adores me, yet here I am, crying for another man. However, not just any man, someone I have loved all my life, a man who is ingrained into my soul, someone who will always be a part of me, no matter the different paths we take.
~ 10 Years Old ~
I run out through the open back door into a small Sacramento backyard, my new backyard.
I wipe harshly at my tears, wishing they would stop. I never believed someone could cry this much, until now, until I became my own test subject. One day, they’ll dry up. I'm ten and I’ll cry for the rest of my life, so there will be nothing left soon, only the hiccups from my chest to show my eternal grief.
I pace around the backyard as memories race through my mind, memories of my mother, father and little brother. I stare up at the sky and wonder if they’re watching me, wishing they could hold the daughter they left behind. I need them to hug me, and I want to confess how much I hate them for leaving me, tell them they ruined my life because they aren’t in it anymore.
I fist my hands and clench them harshly. I want a do-over! I want my family back!
I kick and hit the fence. “Why? Why? Why? Please come back, please come and get me at least. Don’t leave me here alone,” I scream.
Tears cascade down my face and I sink to the ground, dirt sticking to my knees.
I stare at the grass and beg it to swallow me whole.
My thighs sting when I dig my nails into my skin, pleading for the blood to flow and never stop. The pain is too much! I just want what’s mine.
I dash away more tears and wonder if I should savor them, savor the only proof that my heart is broken and the people who can fix it will never breathe the same air as me again.
My family will never be able to touch this grass or feel the cut of their skin.
Sobs rip from my mouth and I grasp my chest. My body bows forward and pounding begins in my ears. I want my mom to hold me, to tell me it’s all going to be okay. My body tenses so painfully that I can barely breathe, and I don’t care. Life isn't worth living anymore.
Distantly I hear the words I begged for.
“It’s going to be okay, Lexi. I promise it’s going to be all right." I’m being rocked in the arms of my aunt, my mom’s sister, Ashley. She’s lying. I came outside because I heard her crying in her bedroom. Nothing will ever be okay again.
“Let’s go inside, Lexi. I’ll do up a warm bath for you, and I’ll make your favorite fried chicken."
I nod, knowing I won’t be able to stomach the food, but I need to try. My aunt is hurting as well, and I don’t want to make this harder on her. I stand, and my aunt brushes the dirt from my knees. She holds me close to her body, and we walk to the back door.
Almost there, something catches my eye from the left, and I look quickly and find a boy with black hair staring at us through the white, wooden fence. He seems around my age. His arms are stretched up, with his fingers through the gap of the fence posts.
Our eyes meet, and I expect to see pity for what he obviously just saw, but there’s nothing there, no sign of concern or sadness, only a boy who seems to be devoid of any emotion at all.
~~~
Three months have passed since I lost my family to a drunk driver. The drunk also died in the accident. It doesn’t seem fair that he gets to go with my family, but I can’t.
For what feels like the hundredth time today, I look out my window at the neighbor's yard. I’ve seen the boy again, many times in his yard, kicking a ball around, playing with cars, and sometimes I catch him running to the side of his house, but I never see him come back out. Even after waiting and watching for a long while, he doesn’t reappear. I’ve gone to my back door, put my ear to the screen trying to hear him, but there is nothing, only silence.
I thought I might see him at school, but he doesn’t go to mine. I'm positive I would have spotted him by now if he did.
I want to go outside and speak to him. I’m curious about him, the way he stared at me. Except each time I freeze and just watch him instead, and then, he goes inside and I kick myself for not going out there.
I arrived home from school not long ago, and I’m supposed to be in my bedroom doing my homework, but instead, I’m sitting in my window, which is two-stories high, waiting to see him again.
I observe the boy’s home. It's a three-story white and blue building, much larger than my Aunt Ash’s house; it towers over ours.
Resting my chin on my hands, I lean against the wi
ndow and look out into the sky, trying to make shapes with the clouds.
Suddenly, I jolt up when I hear shouting. A man shouts and a child screams.
I race out of my room and into the living room, straight for the window, which faces the boy’s house. I think that’s where the screams are coming from.
Another angry yell followed by frightened screams. My heart thunders and I’m unsure what to do. Whatever is happening, I'm sure someone is hurting that boy.
“Aunt Ash,” I yell and run to the kitchen where I last saw her reading a magazine at the table.
I reach the kitchen and find her standing by the back door with a cup of coffee in her hands and an agonized expression on her face, looking to the boy’s house.
“What is that, the screaming?” I ask, breathless.
My aunt glances to me with an outraged look. “That horrible man next door, he hurts his family.” She shakes her head. “That poor boy,” she says, her voice full of sorrow.
“Call the police,” I urge, walking to the phone on the wall.
“I have, Lexi. Many times, but they don’t do anything. They tell me I must have heard wrong, or that I have an overactive imagination.”
I stare to my aunt, confused.
“Oh, sweetie, in life, money can buy you anything, even those who are supposed to protect us can be bought.” My aunt looks into her coffee and then steps toward me. In a stern voice, she orders, “Lexi, if you ever see that man, you come straight inside. If you see him out of his house, you walk the other way. Do you understand me? Promise me you won’t go near him?”
“I promise,” I say slowly.
Sitting on a dining chair, I glimpse back to the boy's house. I hear nothing now.
My parents smacked me when I was younger, when I wouldn’t listen, but nothing that bad. Those screams sounded like they were from a scary movie, as if someone was being tortured.
“I’m going to have a quick shower then get a start on dinner. Can you peel the potatoes for me?” my aunt asks.
I nod. I’m not sure what she detects on my face, sadness, worry or fear, because my aunt kneels before me and says, “I’m so sorry you had to hear that. If I could move, I would have a long time ago. The only thing we can do now is pray, and urge God to keep that poor little boy safe.”
