by Jarica James
Broken Silence
Jarica James
Copyright © 2020 Jarica James
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations in book reviews.
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Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This is a Reverse Harem Young Adult, Contemporary Romance
Cover by: Inked Imagination Designs
Formatting by: Inked Imagination Author Services
Editing by: Ms. Correct All / Missy Stewart
To Justin
Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through and every day I strive to make you proud.
Love you forever.
Contents
Author Note
Thank You
Trigger Warning
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
Epilogue
What now?
About the Author
Also by Jarica James
MM as J.J. Riley
Author Note
This project was previously published under the same name, but I thought I could do Charlie and the Gang more justice, so I endeavored on a full rewrite and added in additional scenes and nearly 20k more to their journey. I hope you love Charlie and the changes as much as I do!
Thank You
Thank you to my author friends for supporting me. AJ and Suki who had to hear more about this book than probably any other. Not to mention the memes, the wine and edit nights, and just being genuinely awesome.
Thanks to my original beta team for getting it this far.
And thank you to Missy Steward for being a great editor and friend and helping make this book what it is. I’m grateful for your dedication to it, especially around the holidays. You’re the real MVP!
Trigger Warning
Charlie’s Journey starts with a dark past, and the main story is one of a healing nature, but there are events that happen that could be seen as triggering, such as violence, language, and intense grief.
Also, emotions if you’re not a fan of those.
Three years Prior
Friday Evening
Charlie
“Hurry up, Charlie!” my best friend Elizabeth hisses up at me. She’s waiting for me in the grass under my window, which is our usual spot. I slowly slide it open and throw down my small backpack. As soon as it makes contact with her head, she curses up at me and I chuckle quietly. I make quick work of using the tree that grows close to the side of the house to climb to the ground. If my parents were smart, they’d cut the limbs farther away, but who would suspect a kid like me to escape at night? It’s the major upside to being perceived as the good kid.
“Let’s do this!” I whisper as we hurry down the block to her car. She always parks at the end of the street so I won’t get caught; we’ve gotten this whole routine down to a science.
My parents are fairly laid-back, but they wouldn’t be happy if they knew that I sneak out every weekend.
“This is going to be a huge party. Evan’s parents are out of town, and the entire school is going to be there. Well anyone who cares enough about their reputation will be. They got someone’s older brother to get the beer and the neighbors are all too old to give a shit.” She quickly checks her makeup as she stops at the stop sign, giving me a bright red smile before driving away.
“You look perfect, Lizzy. Quit messing with it,” I say with an eye roll. Lizzy’s been my best friend for years and is a natural beauty. She has perfect straight brown hair and bright blue eyes and knows how to enhance it with expertly done makeup. She’s athletic but girly. Essentially she’s every high school boy's wet dream. Then there’s me… her plain best friend that doesn’t know how to properly do her makeup, has social anxiety, and whose only real skill is singing. I’m fairly certain that Lizzy is the only reason I don’t get teased, so I’ll take it. And at least she isn’t like those movie besties who would have abandoned me the moment she started to get a hint of popularity.
Plus, I’m part of the drama club which isn’t exactly the most popular club in school. But musicals are my passion and I have no desire to change anything about me. Singing is one of those things that just instantly calms me and I hope to be brave enough to try out for Broadway one day. Even if I have to work hard to get there, I’ll see it done.
“Earth to Charlie,” Lizzy sings out, laughing when I blink rapidly to clear my thoughts and give her a sheepish smile. “I was saying we’re almost here.”
Thanks to the ridiculous number of cars here, we end up having to park two blocks away from the party in the only spot we could find. I’m thankful for my converse while Lizzy taps away in her stilettos. The sound of music and the murmur of the crowd greets us as we walk closer, and I groan internally. I’m not exactly a recluse, but I also have no desire to be pressed up against a bunch of drunk people in a tiny, sweaty space.
Lizzy always wants to attend the big parties and make a name for herself at our high school, and somehow I always get roped in to going with her. She’s a junior, but I’m just a sophomore, so I guess it’s lucky we were invited at all. My job is essentially to make sure she makes it home safe and doesn’t do anything too stupid. Starbrooke is hardly dangerous, but a drunk girl should never be alone to drive or party. She’s my best friend, she won’t become another statistic.
“Lizzy!” a chorus rings out as soon as we step into the room, strangers coming up and taking her away before I can even process. Not wanting to look like the lost puppy friend, I head for the cooler and grab a bottle of water before rushing off to find a quieter corner.
Two hours into the party and I’m more than ready to go home. I don’t feel like drinking and at this point in the night, I’m practically the only sober one here. When a random drunk girl drops her entire cup of beer in my lap, then just laughs like a hyena, I decide I’m done.
Angrily wiping away the nasty smelling liquid, I bite my tongue and walk off to find Lizzy and convince her I need to get back. Each new room I step into is a gamble between finding drunk guys or walking awkwardly into a room where someone was fucking. Eventually I find her flirting with one of the jocks in the kitchen, with a beer in her hand and her
ass on the counter. The guy between her legs is spewing some bullshit romantic words he probably learned in a romcom.
“Hey Lizzy, you ready to go?” I ask gently, not trying to be rude but also wanting to be heard.
“She’s busy, loser,” the guy says without missing a beat, shooting me a quick glare before nipping at her ear, his hand moving up her skirt to rest on her thigh.
“Wasn’t asking you, asshole,” I shoot back. “You good, Lizzy?”
“Not yet, but here are my keys, you can drive my car home. I’m going to stay the night with Stephany since she lives next door, and I’m safe.” She’s barely slurring and coherent or I wouldn’t be considering leaving, but I’m also not hanging around for hours while she flirts.
“Okay, I’ll check in with her,” I offer and she leans over to playfully roll her eyes.
“Fine, Mom,” she teases, before capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. Ew.
Weaving my way through the tightly packed halls, I do yet another search for the friend in question. I’d rather just go, but finding her a friend to make sure someone is looking out for her is a must. Once I find Stephany and know Lizzy’s in good hands, I slip out and walk back to the car.
Driving home this late is a risk, I’m underage and unlicensed, and I’m hoping I don’t run into any cops. I’m way too young to be driving around at nearly midnight, especially in a town this small.
Thank the lord, I think as I pull into the same spot Lizzy waited in earlier today. I’d be in a world of trouble for driving illegally, and the stench of beer covering my clothes wouldn’t help the situation. Nor would it help if my parents walked in and found me like this.
Mumbling to myself, I make the trek back to the house. Just as I reach the big oak tree, I see the light flicker on. Shit. That means Dad couldn’t sleep again or has more work to do. Hopefully he didn’t check on me while I was gone or I would be grounded for the school year. Our walls aren’t exactly soundproof either, so I have to be super quiet sneaking back in or face the wrath of my sleep deprived, midwestern mom. At least I’m practiced at this, I’ve done it enough to perfect my technique. Having a best friend like Lizzy means sneaking out to do things, especially since I wouldn’t be able to go otherwise.
My mom thinks that high school girls shouldn’t stay out past nine, even on weekends, so if I don’t sneak out I’d never be able to do anything with Lizzy. Hell, even school dances don’t end until closer to eleven. Her parents are always gone, so she pretty much does whatever she wants.
Taking a deep breath to brace myself, I start to quietly climb the tree, slipping in my bedroom window. The window creaks, so I opt to leave it cracked until later and just close the curtains. Snatching up the pajamas I set out earlier, I kick off my shoes and change out of my beer encrusted ensemble.
As I’m walking as silently as possible to my bed, a loud bang echoes up from downstairs. Freezing, I look over and notice my door’s cracked. That isn’t a good sign, that means they know I wasn’t home. Mulling over a decent cover story, I decide to just head down and face the music now. I’m way too freaking anxious to leave it for later.
When I reach the door, hand hovering over the knob and anxious dread filling my stomach, I hear an ear-piercing scream. My heart starts pounding in my chest and bile rises in my panic.
Why is Mom screaming?
Something in me holds me back from rushing down and I listen intently and hear more banging and yelling coming from downstairs.
What the heck is going on? My parents don’t fight! Is someone breaking in? Do I call 911?!
“I checked upstairs, one of the kids isn’t home. The room was empty, but this one was in bed.” The man’s voice is harsh and rugged, and one I don’t recognize. Holding a hand over my mouth so I can’t scream like my panic is telling me to, I back up and clutch my phone so hard that my fingers are starting to tingle with numbness.
“I guess that kid gets off lucky. The rest of you, not so much,” another voice threatens, an eerie amusement in his tone that chills me to my core. His words are immediately followed by my mom sobbing and begging for my brother’s life, my heart shattering. Muffled talking continues, which probably means their mouths are gagged. Knowing I’m their only hope, I quickly dial the police and barely whisper my address and that someone is hurting my family. I’m too scared to talk louder and draw their attention back up here so I turn the volume down in case she talks back.
“Shut up and stop crying! It won’t help you!” the first man yells, followed by a loud smack that sends tears coursing down my cheeks. The sounds I’ve heard would be imprinted in my brain for the rest of my life.
A sense of helplessness fills me so completely it's like I could drown in it. Knowing they could check again, I blink away tears and silently slide into my open closet before I tuck myself behind my dresses and pray. The only way I manage to keep my rising panic at bay is chanting that help is coming, over and over again in my head.
The gunshots that break the silence are so loud that I almost scream. And honestly if it wasn't for my hand covering my mouth, I would have. Two more gunshots fire, and my heart stops.
No.
This can’t be real.
Things like this only happened in movies.
My family is fine.
They aren’t hurt or worse.
The tears are flowing down my cheeks and my entire body is shaking like a leaf, but I hold back the sobs that threaten to break through, knowing they’d be my death sentence.
“Go upstairs and look for the other kid one more time, the countdown is on. We need this job done right or the boss will have both of our heads,” the first man barks at someone else. I panic and hold my breath as I bury myself as far back in the closet as I can. Needing something to protect myself, I reach over and pick up my old softball bat, clutching it as hard as I can. For the first time in my privileged life, I curse the plush carpet that lines our home since it makes his footsteps impossible to be traced from my position.
A few seconds later my door flies open forcefully and smacks against the wall, the door making a splintering sound at the harsh contact. My heart pounds against my rib cage as the intruders destroy my room, each crash making my heart beat faster. From the crack in the door, I watch as he flips my bed over and searches around for me.
The closet is next, it’s the only thing left.
My only hope is that the police will get here before they find me. I know that if they catch me, my life is over. My blood runs cold as the closet door slowly slides open. I don’t dare to breathe or move, trying not to bring attention to myself.
“There you are, sneaky girl,” the surly man rasps as he reaches in and grabs me by my hair, pulling me out with one hard yank. I yelp and grab at his hand to free myself, until he slams the fist holding the gun into my throat to stop me from screaming. The pain is excruciating as it radiates through my throat, and all I can do is whimper as I try to drag in a full breath. He smells like sweat and whiskey and I lose all sense of hope as the bat I’m clinging is easily swatted away.
“I hear sirens! Go! Our job is done!” I hear the man yell from downstairs and I dare to hope that it could save me. The man holding me curses and lets go, head whipping around wildly as he visibly panics. The sirens get louder as they approach and he starts to run. As if he finally remembered me the moment he reaches the hall, he stops suddenly and turns around, aiming his gun my way and firing off a few shots before running down the stairs. A searing pain bursts through my side, so harsh that I lose what little breath I have left. Though I barely register what’s happening with all of the adrenaline coursing through my body.
His feet pound down the stairs and he bangs stuff around as he moves through the house, then finally the squeak of our front door before it slams closed. It’s now completely silent in the house, and I can’t even hear the muffled screams of my family anymore. The only sound is my rapid pulse and ragged breaths. Needing to check on them, I try to pull myself up off the floor
where I collapsed after being shot, the pain rendering me breathless all over again. Pushing it away, thanks to a steady stream of adrenaline, I start to move.
Before I reach the stairs, fear that they’ll come back to finish the job strikes me and I go to the hall window first. I can see two figures hop in a car and drive away just as the red and blue lights turn down the street. Knowing it’s safe now, I fly down the stairs to make sure my family is all right.
A blood curdling scream tears through my house as I take in the aftermath, and I don’t even register that it’s coming from me. My entire mind is numb as I continue screaming, barely pausing to take breaths and unable to snap out of the trance I’m in. The image of my parents and older brother slumped over at the table, bodies lifeless and blood pooling on the surface and dripping to the floor, is burned into my very soul.
The front door bangs open as officers come running inside. I’m still screaming as they drag me outside and over to the waiting ambulance, a trail of blood left in our wake.
Present Day
Three Years Later
