Silent Scars (Surviving #4)

by Ada Frost

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Aloura 1

  Ryan 2

  Aloura 3

  Ryan 4

  Ryan 5

  Ryan 6

  Aloura 7

  Ryan 8

  Aloura 9

  Ryan 10

  Aloura 11

  Ryan 12

  Ryan 13

  Aloura 14

  Ryan 15

  Aloura 16

  Ryan 17

  Aloura 18

  Ryan 19

  Aloura 20

  Ryan 21

  Aloura 22

  Aloura 23

  Ryan 24

  Aloura 25

  Aloura 26

  Ryan 27

  Ryan 28

  Aloura 29

  Ryan 30

  Aloura 31

  Ryan 32

  Aloura 33

  Aloura 34

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  More by the Author

  This book is dedicated to all the bloggers, reviewers, readers and fans out there that believed in me and wanted this book. Without you, none of this would have been possible. From book one, Elemental Fear, you have believed in this series and the characters and have fallen in love just as I have.

  This book is for you, for your faith in me.

  Thank you

  I pulled my knees tighter against my chest and wrapped one arm around them, tightening my hold around my brother Kyle as we hid under his bed.

  “Ssh Kyle, they will hear you. And Daddy doesn’t like it when we cry.” I lifted my hand and covered his mouth to stop him from making any more noise. Kyle was five years old and didn’t know how to be a man yet. My big brother Chase said that to be a man you couldn’t show fear or pain, so definitely no crying, and he said Kyle hadn’t learnt that yet. And I had to teach him, even though he was in the grade above me.

  My brother jerked in my arms when we heard another loud slap. I scrunched my eyes tightly closed, wanting to cover my ears, but I would have to take my hand away from Kyle’s mouth, and I couldn’t let Daddy find us. I wished I was like Doctor Octavius in Spiderman so that way I could cover Kyle’s ears too. Daddy was in one of his dark moods, as Mom called them. She said he only acted that way when we angered him. I didn’t know what Chase had done, but he was being lashed by Daddy’s belt for it. I couldn’t count to a big enough number to know how many I had heard so far. My eldest brother, Chase, was nine, and a big boy. He scared me a little. He would never play football with Kyle and me so he always wanted us to hide or run away through the woods. He was always putting me in dark hiding places and telling me to wait and stay there until he came back for me. I hated hiding away in the cold. And there were always bugs. One time, I didn’t want to go hide, so I ran to Dad and cried, saying Chase was making me and I wanted to play football. Dad had stood to his enormous height and slapped me across the face so hard blood came out of my mouth. That night I had heard the sound of his belt and Chase’s cries. I hadn’t refused to hide again. I didn’t want to get my big brother in trouble, ever.

  Chase was the only one of us Dad liked to spend time with so he ignored Kyle and me as long as we were quiet and behaved. I sometimes followed them at night when they went to the boathouse. I was too scared to go through the trees in the dark by myself, so I got as far as the woods before I stopped. But Daddy and Chase went through the darkness to the boathouse. Daddy’s friends sometimes joined them too. My brother never seemed happy that he was allowed to stay awake past his bedtime. I would love to. I didn't like that I was ignored by my dad, or that mommy was always annoyed at us boys. Or that my brother cried all the time. But worse was that Chase always pushed us away and wouldn’t share Dad.

  When the lashings stopped, Kyle jumped out from our hiding place and ran away. I ran back to the house, feeling the cold bite at my fingers and toes. I opened the porch screen as quietly as I could and pushed through the door. I froze. Mom stood staring out of the kitchen window towards the woods. She must have seen me out there past bedtime in my pyjamas.

  “Sorry, Momma,” I uttered, keeping my eyes on the floor. I waited for her to punish me, but when she said nothing, I looked up at her to see she had tears running down her cheeks. She was quite pretty, my mom, with really dark almost black hair and really dark brown eyes. She once told me she was a beauty queen before she and Daddy were married. Now she stayed at home and watched us boys. My grandpa lived in Texas and owned oil or something, though I wasn't sure how you would do that because oil was slippery.

  “You should stay away from your daddy, Ryan. His kind of attention isn’t what a little boy would want.”

  “I just want to play like Chase, Momma.”

  She laughed, but it wasn’t like a funny laugh. It was scary, and I cringed back against the door.

  “You silly boy. Your father isn’t the kind of man to play games, Ryan. I can only hope that this time it’s a baby girl.”

  She rubbed her hand across her stomach with a soft smile on her face. Her gentle grin slipped away when she glanced out of the window again. “You don’t want your father’s interest, Ryan. Stop seeking it. A time will come when you will wish you had never seen the sight of him.” With that she turned away and walked back through the house.

  “Has the jury reached their verdict?”

  Those were the last words I heard before my world completely crumbled. Men and women who had never in their lives met me or my family made the decision that it was unsafe for the foreseeable future to be anywhere near my younger siblings. The court ruled that because of what I had testified to against my father, and also because I confessed to the acts I had performed since, without his provocation.

  My life was officially over. My eldest brother, Chase, knocked up his girlfriend, and when she insisted she keep the kid, he turned into our father. He beat her to death, leaving the kid at the hands of the fucking devil – our father. Four, that’s all the poor little shit was when he was dropped at the gates of hell, thrust into a life where only pain and sex existed. I knew the day the police brought him to our house that Dad was going to fuck the kid’s life up. And it was down to me to protect him. Jo, my little nephew, became everything to me.

  Mom sat stony-faced in the front, never once flinching at the degrading acts her third eldest child was forced to do. Ane and Bill, my best friend’s mom and dad, sat in the back and listened to every sickening detail of what I had done from the age of four until now. The things Dad and his associates would do to me, and what I would do to them. They listened while I confessed to seeking out men and women to pay me money for sexual favours so I could escape and run away. It’s staggering the amount a married man who will pay for a young boy to suck his dick. Why did a rich kid like me need money? My father gave us an allowance – everything we wanted so money wasn’t an issue. Control was. He accounted for every dime we spent. And if money was missing, he wanted to know why. So I did the only thing I knew I was capable of — I performed sexual acts on adults for money.

  Sitting beside my lawyer, the one Bill and Ane, had appointed, I listened as a judge deemed me unstable, and I would have to undergo psychological assessments. Because Tate, one of the twins, had said he was frightened of me, the courts decided I wouldn’t be allowed near my younger brothers unsupervised. When Jo had arrived at our home, I’d immediately seen the desire in my dad’s eyes. The way he had brightened because another little victim had been sent his way. My eldest brother, Chase, who was currently in prison for murdering Jo’s mom, was Dad’s favourite play thing. And when Chase left, and said fuck you all, Dad swore one day he would bring the boy down. And he was given that opportunity when his unsuspecting grandson wa
s dropped in his lap. In those moments I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t let him destroy someone else’s life. So I bullied and beat the kid, and I made my brothers ignore him. There were strict rules though; they weren’t allowed to touch him. I also instructed my kid brothers to show Jo where to hide from me and Dad. Each time I struck the poor kid, I vomited. I hated myself, and when I realised no one was going to save him and take him away from someone like me. I couldn’t wail on him any longer. I needed to be a man and protect him. And by doing so he became my best friend, my brother, not just my nephew.

  Kyle was being placed in a group home until he turned eighteen. He wouldn’t even look at me. He was one seat over from me, with his head down. The only time he had said anything was to insist that we not live together, that he wanted nothing to do with me for tearing the family apart. Bill and Ane were granted temporary custody of me until they could find me a suitable placement, and they had full custody of Jo. I gritted my teeth each time the court referred to him by his given name – Chase Dermont Junior. Every first born son in this fucked up family was named Chase. But the kid hated it, so we started the nickname Jo after his mom, Johanna.

  I watched as the judge talked, but none of his words sunk in. I was being separated from my family. Everyone was being taken away because I had exposed what Dad was doing. I was being punished for protecting the kid so all this was my fault, but I couldn’t let Jo go back to my father. Had I stuck to my plan, saved the money and taken Jo far away, none of this would be happening. My little brothers wouldn’t be sitting in too big chairs, crying because they were going to live with strangers; Kyle was being torn away from all of us. And I was the reason.

  It was my fault.

  I had tried too hard to protect Jo. I never considered what would happen to the others. Dad never paid them any interest. They had been safe.

  Biting down hard on my trembling lip, I willed the tears to stay at bay.

  Men don’t cry. Only the weak cry.

  Dad’s words echoed in my head. His harsh voice drilled into me. But they were already welling in my eyes. His ghost wasn’t doing shit to help me. I tried not to blink so they wouldn’t fall, but my eyes stung. Eventually a fat tear rolled down my cheek. I was losing my family because I failed to protect them. I was selfish and exposed everything.

  “You may have five minutes for the boys to say goodbye,” The judge ordered, not even looking at the boys he was addressing.

  Five minutes? Five minutes to say goodbye to my best friends.

  I jumped to my feet and stepped in front of Kyle. “I’m sorry,” I choked and held out my hand. He was older than I was, but for some fucked up reason I was treated as the oldest when Chase fucked off and left us. I had the responsibility of being the oldest boy.

  Kyle didn’t respond. He simply shook his head, stood and shouldered his way past me. I watched as he hugged his brothers goodbye, said something in their ear, and joined the social worker who was waiting to take him away. I sucked in a breath and tried so hard not to cry in front of them, but my heart was fucking breaking. He was my best friend, and he hated me.

  Heading over to my younger brothers, Jace, Tate, and Gray, I knelt in front of them. Jace was only eight, the same as Jo. I held out my fist for them to bump. Jace sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve before bumping his tiny fist against mine.

  “Hey, listen. I need you guys to take care of each other okay. Promise me you will do that.” I blew out a breath trying to stop the emotion from breaking free and killing me here on the spot.

  “Ain’t you our brother no more, Ry?” Gray asked. I choked, trying to cover it with laughter, and tears rolled down my face.

  “I’ll always be your brother, kid. I love you guys. Okay? Never believe I don’t. Never be scared. Don’t live in fear. If you are, run. Run and I’ll come and find you.”

  “Kid, you can’t say that.” The nosey fucking dick who was standing guard said. I reached out to touch Tate’s arm. I needed to feel connected to them one more time.

  “Promise me you’ll always stick together. Never be alone, okay? Never give up on one another.”

  “We promise,” Tate agreed. He slid his hand into Gray’s, and Jace rushed forward and hugged me tightly around the neck.

  “I love you. Never, please, please, never forget that.” My brothers nodded in agreement.

  It was three months before I was allowed a fifteen-minute visit with my younger siblings. Five hundred and forty-seven days before Kyle would agree to see me. And even then he refused to speak or look at me. I didn’t ask for another visit, and neither did he.

  Jo was all I had left.

  It is amazing what thoughts flash through your mind as death finally comes to take you away from living in hell. I’d waited years for this moment, I’d craved it, and as I stared up at the dust-filled sky, blood warm and sticky on my face, the dry heat of the sun burning down onto my battered body, I realised I was finally at peace. My immobile body was cocooned in a pit made in the sand by the IED that exploded, causing the chaos around me. I tried to see through the thick cloud of sand and smoke, to see the sky one more time before I closed my eyes. My heavy lids were slowly giving into the pleasure of the long sleep. I prayed for God to give me one final wish, one last look at the blue sky. People assumed I didn’t believe in God, that with the shit I’d lived through I must hate the big man, but the truth was He was the only thing I had to hold onto. God would eventually claim me from this world and bring me to a place I had prayed for my entire life. He had delivered by saving my little buddy Johan.

  My nephew, my brother, my kin.

  It was time for him to save me, grant me the peace of death. Allow me to fall asleep and never awaken.

  I coughed and tried not to cry out as pain exploded in my body and burned through me like a hot metal poker, and yes, I knew what that felt like. My dear old dad had given me that experience. I growled and gritted my teeth, closing my eyes, and fought back the thoughts of the bastard. He wasn’t invading my final moments on Earth. He was the master and creator of the hell I’d lived through. He wouldn’t take this peace from me. I coughed again and could taste the metallic warmth of blood in my mouth.

  I opened my eyes, squinting as dust and sand surrounded me, a suffocating oppressive cloud. The loud screams and pop, pop, pop of rifle rounds sounded around me, and the deafening buzz from the explosion rang in my ears, threatening to blow my brain apart. The stench of death clogged my throat as my fellow men and women scattered around me, screaming in agony for help, to survive – to live. I lay silently, praying for peace. I was ready. This life wasn’t for people like me. I allowed my eyes to close, losing hope of seeing the blue sky once more.

  “Ryan, you promise me you’ll come home”

  The ghost-like voice echoed in my head, almost whispering across continents. The words my brother Will had said to me months ago. He’d made me swear I would return home safe. Clearly there was a different plan for my destiny.

  “You promised.”

  The pain was fading, slipping away with every laboured breath. I felt like I was slowly drifting into a deep sleep, a euphoric state where pain and fear didn’t exist. A soft smile danced at the corners of my lips as I drifted, the sounds around me muffled. I sank into my sandy grave. I unclenched my fists and slid them into the fragile grains beneath me, and welcomed the pull.

  Another flash of life played in my mind, my brother holding his baby daughter. Lou and Jo were expecting another baby pretty soon. They didn’t want to find out what they were having, but as heaven beckoned, I had a clear vision of the tiniest baby girl swaddled in a pink blanket in my brother’s arms. Warmth spread through me, watching the love on his face. I was so proud of him. He had found his salvation. I could leave this world knowing my brothers were in the arms of strong women who would fight for them. Love them and cherish them. I‘d never had that, never been held in a woman’s loving arms, never kissed a woman as I made love to her. Held her against me as the
sun streamed through the window and caressed her skin, or woken her with sleepy morning sex. I thought in this moment I would change my final wish, the blue sky forgotten. It would have to be to have a woman hold me, kiss me, and love me the way my brothers’ women adored them. Just once, I would have liked to know what love felt like. And in return feel my heart beat wildly with the sole purpose of loving her. But men like me didn’t deserve that we deserved hell. And my hell had lasted an eternity. I was prepared for the end.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered to the sky, hoping my words would float and carry to Will and Johan. I promised I would live, that I would return home. But my home was finally here to take me so in the desert my life would end, and peace would claim me. The nightmares would stop, the pain would fade, and I would finally have silence.

  Death would be my salvation. My scars would heal.

  I had never feared death I welcomed it. But fear welled within my heart as memories of my family filled my mind. I clenched my fingers into a fist, grabbing only at sand. I refused to allow fear to be my final thought. But like a typhoon it swelled and swirled, growing and fighting for attention. Voices echoed around me as I coughed and clawed at that peaceful elation. But it slipped away, eluded me.

  “Sergeant – “

  I gripped at the fine grains of sand, but they slid through my fingers, and the more I clutched to them, the less I had to hold until finally all I had was air in my hands.

  “Ryan – “

  The voices grew louder, calling me from the peaceful depths. I coughed as pressure on my chest and light in my eyes assaulted me. The numb serenity faded and chaotic light invaded me.

  I had stayed in hell.

  I was sitting at the breakfast bar, sulking like a little brat. At twenty-six it was immensely embarrassing to have your own bloody parents ground you.

  “Aloura, don’t frown it will give you premature wrinkles,” my jailer grumbled as he filled his cup.

  “You’re treating me like a child. I may as well act like one,” I snapped, breaking off the crust from my dried toast and throwing it down for Hercules, my trusted companion. He gobbled it up and wagged his tail.