RECOVERED LOVE
Copyright Page
Copyright © 2015 Todd Snyder
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission or the author. This book is a work of fiction; any resemblance to any person alive or dead is purely coincidental. The characters and story are created from the author’s imagination.
Contributors:
Cover photo: http://www.123rf.com
Illustrator: Clarise Tan with CT cover creations https://www.facebook.com/CTcovercreations
Editor: Jessica Grover Editing
Formatting: Integrity Formatting
For Mature Audience Only 18 +: Contains graphic sexual content, situations of abuse and rape.
I dedicate this book to my readers.
I love you!
Dedication
Prologue - Savannah
Chapter One - Reid
Chapter Two - Savannah
Chapter Three - Reid
Chapter Four - Savannah
Chapter Five - Reid
Chapter Six - Savannah
Chapter Seven - Reid
Chapter Eight - Savannah
Chapter Nine - Reid
Chapter Ten - Savannah
Chapter Eleven - Reid
Chapter Twelve - Savannah
Chapter Thirteen - Reid
Chapter Fourteen - Savannah
Chapter Fifteen - Reid
Chapter Sixteen - Savannah
Chapter Seventeen - Reid
Chapter Eighteen - Savannah
Chapter Nineteen - Reid
Chapter Twenty - Savannah
Chapter Twenty-One - Reid
Chapter Twenty-Two - Savannah
Chapter Twenty-Three - Reid
Chapter Twenty-Four - Savannah
Chapter Twenty-Five - Reid
Chapter Twenty-Six - Savannah
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Reid
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Savannah
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Reid
Chapter Thirty - Savannah
Chapter Thirty-One - Reid
Chapter Thirty-Two - Savannah
Chapter Thirty-Three - Reid
Chapter Thirty-Four - Savannah
Chapter Thirty-Five – Reid
Chapter Thirty-Six – Savannah
Epilogue
Deacon
Acknowledgements
About the Author
BANG BANG BANG. Holy shit – what was that? I’m jerked out of a sound sleep with my pulse pounding like a jackhammer. My breaths are coming fast and shallow, seemingly loud in an otherwise quiet room. Did someone just break down the front door? I’m probably just imagining things, right? CRUNCH O God….what do I do? I can hear glass breaking and footsteps running through the house. My nerves are jangling and I’m trying to be quiet, but all I can hear is the pounding of my heart, and my harsh breathing, sure that I’ll give myself away. It feels as if everything is moving in slow motion, yet also too fast for me to do anything to help myself. Almost like moving through a thick murky fog. I know someone is in the house because I can hear the stairs creaking as they climb closer to my bedroom and to me. Oh my God, what is happening? Is there time for me to hide? But where? My lips and face feel tingly and numb and my throat starts to feel thick and tight. I look around but dismiss every potential hiding spot, especially the typical places like the closet or under the bed, sure that whoever is breaking in will find me if he wants to bad enough. My hands are sweating and I rub them down my comforter, gripping the edges of my blanket in fear. My panic is out of control and I can’t think straight. Wait! My phone…where did I put it? I look around frantically and see it on my night stand and I let out a little sigh of relief. I reach for it with my shaking and sweaty hand, but I realize I’m too late.
A man bursts through my bedroom door and stands there leering at me. His hands are by his side and I watch as he clenches and unclenches his fists. I shiver as he cocks his head to the side and stares at me. I’m completely unnerved by his gaze causing me to hold the sheets up tight under my chin, almost like a security blanket, but it’s only giving me a false sense of security. I can’t believe my eyes and my stomach sinks as reality kicks in. I’m stuck with my mind and body frozen and unmoving. Any messages my brain might be sending my body aren’t getting through.
He approaches me and rips the blankets from my tight grip. I gasp as the last bit of “security” is taken from me. A black hood is thrown over my face and I’m thrown face down onto the floor. I’m caught so unawares that I can’t brace myself from the fall. I grunt in pain as my nose hits the floor and starts gushing blood. I feel as if I’ve bitten off a chunk of my tongue. Immediately the tears start to flow but if he thinks I’m just going to go quietly, he can forget it. I quickly flip my body over and kick him in the stomach, almost smiling when I hear a loud grunt of pain escape his lips. I swipe my finger under my nose, capturing as much blood as I can and scribble a symbol onto my hardwood floor with the hopes that someone will see it and know what it means. I barely have time before I feel a knee in my back as my hands are pulled roughly behind me. What the hell is going on? Why is he doing this to me? Hot tears course down my face, the rivulets mixing with all the blood, giving me an almost macabre look. I’m trembling in fear and my anxiety heightens when I feel like I can’t breathe. My nose is busted up and still gushing blood and I can’t seem to pull in air through my mouth fast enough. OMG this can’t be happening to me! I need to snap out of it and see if I can’t get out of this. The hood is yanked back down over my face cutting off my visibility and separating me from my captor. My mouth is dry and my stomach is revolting. I can’t stand not being able to see what’s coming.
“Please….just tell me what you want. I have some cash. You can have it. Just take my purse.
Take it all,” I say hurriedly.
I don’t get a response. I suppose, if I really think about it I shouldn’t have expected one. I angered him and this is my payback so to speak. I’m trembling, and can’t seem to stop my body from shaking in fear. Tears trail down my face, silently. I want to beg, but I can see that it won’t get me anywhere. I’m just an average woman and there isn’t anything special about me, so why would he react this way? This isn’t rational thinking. I can’t stop the thoughts that rattle around in my head, but I’m distracted when my captor reaches for me.
He grabs me, and grunts as he lifts me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He carries me through the house until we’re outside and despite the injury to my nose, I can smell the difference in the air. I don’t like this feeling of being under this hood with everything dark and my sense of hearing heightened. I hear him fumbling with some keys and the door of a vehicle being opened. I’m dumped into the back and I wince as my shoulder connects with the floor which sends blinding hot pain shooting up my arm. The pain is so severe that I’m afraid I’ll be sick on top of how hot it is in here, the heat is stifling, I can feel a bead of sweat running down my back. My hair is glued to my neck in sticky clumps.
Things are starting to go dim, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I need to breathe. Breathe Van.
C’mon you’ve got this.
My captor gets into the vehicle and starts it as he whistles under his breath the entire time. I lie silently on my side with my face throbbing as the tears continue to flow. My body is jostled from side to side as the vehicle moves through the city streets and it isn’t long before I’m disoriented. I can only hope that Mom and Dad will notice the symbol and Mom will know to call him. Thank goodness we are close and I confide in her about everything. She may not know what the symbol itself means, but she’ll remember our talk about it and she’ll know what to do. That’s my hope at this poi
nt that somehow I’ll be found.
“We’re here.” I’m startled by his voice as it cuts through my memories and brings me back to my new, desolate reality.
I’m yanked up some stairs and then inside, letting out a harsh breath as his grip tightens on my skin. My arms are aching and I’m certain there are bruises forming in the shape of fingerprints. I gasp aloud, startled by a door slamming somewhere behind me, the sound has me jumping a foot into the air.
My nerves are already frayed and delicate, but each sound I hear only adds to my distress. I’m breathing heavily with the air hot and moist beneathmy hood. I’m frightened for what I may see when the hood isn’t there to keep meunaware. Silly, I know, that I’m choosing a stupid black hood as a form of sanctuary. Suddenly it’s yanked from my head and I blink my eyes owlishly as they adjust to the dim lighting. Whether I want to or not, I need to figure out how to face this, my deepest fear comes to fruition and worsens at what I see.
I’m in a dingy looking living room in someone’s house. It’s dirty and trashed and smells horrid. Empty food containers litter the floors and any available space on the counter top. Smudges and handprints cover the walls and the smell is of old, rotten, garbage that’s been left out in the sun too long.
Old food that was left out is congealed and hardened in the pot. I shudder as my eyes take in my surroundings and I immediately feel weak-kneed. There’s a ratty couch that’s seen better days, and a small TV. I can see through this room straight into the kitchen, and it looks equally as filthy. There is a small wooden kitchen table which is scarred from years of misuse and two mismatched chairs. The table and chairs are covered in newspapers along with dirty dishes. I’m thoroughly disgusted and I can feel my stomach revolting. I feel nauseated and my mouth fills with saliva, leaving me with an urge to vomit. I bring my gaze back to the living room and look down at the carpet shaking my head at how filthy it is.
Then I notice that it appears to be moving and I gasp aloud. O dear God, those are cockroaches. I start gagging and force myself to swallow back the bile. I’m terrified of bugs and spiders.
My breath hitches in my chest and I have to talk myself down so I don’t hyperventilate. The not knowing what’s next is feeding into my panic. What the hell does this guy want with me?
My gaze has gone full circle when it lands on my captor. He’s watching me with his head cocked to the side, a leer on his angular face. The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end, and I have to dig my nails into my palms so I don’t start screaming and pulling out my hair. O God I’m so scared. He grips my arm tightly and pulls me into the corner of the room squeezing so tight that the skin on my arm is burning. That’s when I see a metal ring that is bolted to the floor, and it’s covered in a mountain of hard shelled roaches. I jump as he pushes his hands between my shoulder blades, forcing me to bend or sit down in the mound of roaches. I whimper as he locks me into place and I use my feet as I frantically kick out, attempting to push as many of the roaches away as I can. The entire time he’s doing this he’s whistling under his breath with not a care in the world. It’s in that moment that I wish I could smack that stupid smile off of his vile face.
I need to figure out a way to get out of here, or outwit him somehow. I don’t know what he wants with me, and I don’t want to find out.
“Welcome,” he hisses out between his teeth, “You certainly aren’t at a hotel, so don’t expect me to cater to you.” I’m watching him from behind the curtain of my hair as he preens and rocks back on his heels, acting like he’s the big man with his hands behind his back.
“Here you’re going to learn to cater to me, and you’re going to like it. You can call me boss. Bet you wish things were different now.” He’s cackling as if what he has just said is funny.
I need to figure out if I can convince him to let me go. I’m trying to think positively to put a spin on things. Anything so my mind won’t go crazy with bad possibilities—because those are endless and that thought terrifies me.
I flinch when he speaks again and quickly drop my gaze to the ground.
“I don’t have many rules, but there is one key one that I want you to remember.” He’s staring at me intently as if he’s assessing me and making sure he has my undivided attention. “All you have to remember is to stay quiet. I’m not interested in hearing you yammer on. Got it?”
I frantically nod my head at him so eager for his approval.
“If you piss me off, your punishment will be swift and severe.”
I feel like I’m going to faint. O God I can’t do this. Please let this be a nightmare that I will wake up from. I shut my eyes and squeeze really tight while taking a deep breath, gathering the courage to open them again. Unfortunately as my eyes open I see that this nightmare is very much real. My captor gives me a shove trying to push me further into the corner of the room before he walks away. I lie in my corner and try to stay quiet. Every so often I have to push the roaches away or crush them beneath my feet. I shudder and gag every time I hear the distinct crunch of their hard shelled body giving way.
Ugh.
“Stay strong Van,” I whisper. “You can get through this.”
“Shut up,” he shouts at me from across the room. “You’re to stay silent and only speak when asked to,” he grits out between his teeth as he stalks towards me. I cower and whimper, but I’m not quick enough for his liking. “Do you understand”? My cheek is stinging as I finally register that he slapped me. “I asked you a question” my captor hisses at me from between his teeth. His mouth turning up in a sneer.
“Yes, I understand,” I slur out between a mouthful of blood, nodding as quickly as I can. I understand alright, I’m in hell.
6 months earlier
“What’s wrong buddy?” I feel his hand on me as he rubs my back and my shoulder and I flinch, trying to get away from his touch, but I can’t go far, my body trapped in the tight sleeping bag.
“Can’t sleep?” He’s whispering, trying to be as quiet as possible, his hand constantly rubbing me, making me uncomfortable. My body feels excessively hot and I feel like I may throw up the cookies and milk I ate before bed.
“Come downstairs with me,” he says gripping my shoulder tightly. I sigh and slump my shoulders, dejected. As if I have a choice. He’s threatened to do this to Deacon and Carter if I tell a soul and I won’t let that happen. I have to protect them at all costs, I can’t let him hurt them this way. It’s enough that one of us feels dirty, used and worthless. I shiver in disgust, my body unable to hide my revulsion from him. My eyes well up with tears and I’m angry at showing any weakness. I can see it frustrates him as his lips thin out and he curls his hand around my neck, gripping tightly, pulling a tiny scream of pain from me. I pull myself out of my sleeping bag, hoping beyond hope that someone will hear and come help me, but no one ever does.
“You know what to do,” he grits out between his teeth, “Downstairs now.” My shoulders fall and I drag my feet, but the inevitable is waiting for me. I get to the top of the stairs and look down into the darkness. The abyss is waiting for me, I’m on my way to hell, pure and simple. I flinch when I hear the snick of the chain being pulled, illuminating my personal hell. I climb down the bare wooden steps, my bare feet catching the odd splinter from the unfinished wood, but I welcome the pain, it reminds me I’m alive and I have people to protect. I stiffen my shoulders and steel myself for what’s to come. Waiting at the bottom is a tent, all set up as if we were camping in the woods. He seems to think this makes it fun and exciting. The inside of that tent is full of hot air and nothing but guilt and recriminations. I can feel his breath as it gusts in and out, blowing the hair at the back of my neck as I kneel and begin to crawl into the tent, my body shaking in fear. I break out in goose bumps. I’m revolted, but I can’t allow this to happen to Deacon or Carter. I can shoulder this. I’ll do anything for them …
I wake up startled, my body covered in a cold sweat, my chest heaving with each breath I take. I sigh and
rub my hand over my scalp, feeling the bristle of my closely shaved hair. I haven’t had a nightmare in a long time and try to think of what may have triggered this last one, coming up with nothing. I shrug and pull my body out of bed, padding to the bathroom as I scratch my side and yawn loudly. I throw the seat up and take a piss, flushing when I’m done. I turn the taps on the shower, adjusting the temperature before climbing under the hot spray, groaning loudly as the pounding of the water works at relaxing my tense muscles.
I’m one of three boys. We’re not triplets, but people often mistake us for them because of the way we can communicate with one another, seemingly without a word. I’m the oldest at twenty-eight followed by Deacon who is twenty-six and Carter who is twenty-five. We all have dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, but I’m currently wearing my hair shaved close to my head. I’ve been told I’m intimidating and I believe it. I’m a big guy at 6’6” and 275lbs and my brothers aren’t much smaller than I am. Mom dubbed us the “triple threat.”
I grab my all-in-one hair and body wash, squeezing a generous amount into my hand, lathering up and running my hands through my hair. As I’m washing up I reminisce about growing up in the suburbs of Chicago. We grew up in a modest ranch style home. Dad worked for the CIA and was often gone, leaving Mom to be at home with us hellions, raising us with a firm hand. She had gone back to teaching early childhood education when Carter was in school fulltime. She retired several years ago and has been begging Dad to retire, since that time. When he finally gave in, I swear she wept for joy. She has big travel plans, sure hope Dad is ready to see the world I chuckle to myself, turning the taps off. I shake my hair and reach for a fluffy towel that is hanging over the warming rack, rubbing it over my damp skin and hair. I splash on some cologne and make sure I’ve got deodorant on before heading back to my bedroom to dress for the day. I pull out all the clothes I want to wear for the day and start dressing, thinking back again to my childhood.
Recovered Love Page 1
