Blinded By Love (book 1)

Prologue

Jaclyn

Four Years Ago

“You’re a fucking bitch you know that? I don’t know why anyone would want to be in a relationship with a manipulative whore like you, Anne,” my dad says from the passenger seat while I block everything he’s saying out of my mind.

We’re in a parking lot, just finished with lunch.

My dad saw that Mateo, my mom’s boyfriend, texted her, and my dad got pissed and started calling her all kinds of names.

When he’s around it’s better to just stay in your head and pretend you’re somewhere else. That’s what I’ve learned since I started seeing him again after the incident on New Year's one year ago. I still haven’t forgiven him but he offered to give me and my mom money if we would hang out with him.

It’s kind of like a buy off. He sees me and pays my mom five hundred to one thousand just to see me. But after every “hangout” we have, it would end in a fight like this on the to him off at his apartment.

“Oh shut the fuck up, Danny. You’re just mad I won’t fuck you. You’re supposed to be nice in front of your daughter. Instead you're just acting like an ass. Are you on drugs again or somthing? What is it this time? Meth or coke?”

“At least I can find a nice good bitch who isn’t a gypsy like you. She’ll treat me with some fucking respect,” he says before speaking more slurs in Romanian which I can’t understand.

My eyes widen because I can’t believe he just called her that.

Being a Romanian and calling a woman a gypsy is equal to calling someone of color a slur. My dad calling her a bitch or whore doesn’t bother me because he says those things all the time but he only ever calls her a gypsy when he is on something, like right now probably.

My mom always told me that if anyone ever called me that to slap them across the face.

“And then you,” my dad turns around to look at me. I clench my phone in my hand and pull my bag close to me. “You’ll end up being a fucking whore and stripper next to your mother if you keep having that kind of attitude. And don’t even get me started on that fucking disease you have. You’ll start getting fatter in no time.”

A ball forms in my throat and tears form in my eyes.

I know I’ve gained some weight since being diagnosed but I didn’t think it was that noticeable.

“Danny!” my mom yells but I get out of the car and run away towards the opposite end of the parking lot.

I run until I can’t hear him and my mom yelling anymore. I grip my bag against my side and run until I am out of breath.

I tend to run a lot when things get to be too much. It’s the only thing that ever makes sense in my head. Shut everything out and just pretend you’re by yourself and you’ll be okay.

It’s better being alone anyways.

I find a dark alley to hide in until my mom texts me, telling me he left. Tears fall from my eyes as his words repeat in my head. He always has to ruin a good day.

All he does is ruin everything and then later on he'll text me or call my mom non-stop to apologize and say he was drunk. Cycles like this never end with him. It started happening when I was old enough to decide I wanted to see him. Every time he saw my mom and I, he wanted to give us money.

I never wanted the money though. I just wanted someone to love me .

I wanted someone to chase the monsters away when I was little and protect that little girl with his life. When I was a baby, I was his prin?es? . He would do everything for her but in the background he was the monster my mom was afraid of.

She never likes talking about him or how they met. Whenever I ask about their relationship she always brushes it off and says she never loved him and only married him because they had me.

She told me it was the worst decision she ever made, marrying him.

“You look pathetic when you cry.” I hear someone say, making me turn my head to the side. A boy enters the alley, looking mean and cruel. He looks young like me and I hate how he is so attractive yet rude because I would like him if he was nicer. “Are you going to say something or are you going to ignore me and continue crying like a child?”

I wipe the tears from my face and try to calm down my breathing and rapid heartbeat. I just need to relax.

“Nobody asked you to stare at me like a weirdo, so just leave,” I say in a nasty tone, not in the mood to deal with anyone.

I just wanna go home and pretend everything is okay by reading because reading and writing my thoughts down are the only things that seem to make me happy anymore.

Everything in fictional worlds are better than reality.

Nothing can compare.

“Now why would I do that when you can entertain me?” the boy asks, walking closer with slow steps.

As he comes closer I notice his features more clearly. He is beautiful.

The kind of beauty you notice in a crowd full of strangers.

When he grows up to be older I already know he will have no trouble finding someone to love and envy him.

He looks like the kind of boy I imagine whenever I read books. If only he was a little older and a lot nicer, like the guys I read about, then he would be perfect.

He has some muscle on him but he isn’t jacked or anything. He looks like he is still growing.

I stand up so that the boy can’t look down at me. The height difference between us isn’t super major. I’m standing at around 5’4 while he is standing around maybe 5’8.

I am pretty tall for my age. At school, I’m taller than most of the girls in my class which makes me kind of insecure along with the weight I put on from having diabetes.

“And how would I entertain you? You have nothing better to do? Do you not have a life?” I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t know that California girls can be such bitches,” he says, looking at me up and down with disgust in his eyes .

It makes me feel like something is wrong with me.

Is there?

Can he see the insecurities radiating off of me?

I can be nasty and point out everything that looks wrong with him which isn’t very much but I can still probably do some damage to his mental health by saying a few things.

He has a scar on the top of his eyebrow that I can point out. Or maybe his home life sucks and I can point that out and make him cry and leave me the hell alone.

I can be rude but only to people who deserve it like him.

“And what makes you think you’re entitled to have any opinion about me? You don’t even know me. For all I know you’re probably an asshole who just likes making girls cry for your own pleasure.”

He smirks down at me and leans closer. “You're right about making girls cry for my pleasure. It’s fun seeing girls cry over such simple words.”

Guys from California would never speak like this to me. Or at least where I live in California. Guys from my school are too pussy to say anything to girls in general. It’s usually girls who are rude and always have something to say.

“You’re sick. Have your parents never loved you or something? Probably not because they didn’t teach you how to be a decent human being, jackass,” I say before trying to walk past him but he grabs my wrist and pushes me against the nearest wall. My back hits the wall hard and I hiss as my shoulder stings. “Ouch, you little shit. Get your nasty hands off of me or else I’ll call the police and tell them you’re harassing me.”

“Listen here, princess,” he says, sending chills down my spine. He rests his arms on the wall near my head as he leans down so his breath is hitting my face. I can’t help but love how he smells. Like a woodsy cologne or something. “If I ever see you again, which I hope will be never, I’ll make sure you know what being hurt really feels like. Whatever stupid reason you’re crying is nothing compared to the way I’ll make you break,” he says, making me feel antsy. How he could possibly make me feel worse than I feel right now?

“You’re just a boy who’s never learned how to treat girls with care. You won’t do shit.”

And as if I thought him being this close to me was the worst thing he could do, he holds my jaw in his hand making my eyes connect with his.

Goosebumps spread across my skin and I shiver. I’ve never had a boy touch me and I hate how much his touch is affecting me.

I can feel butterflies in my stomach from his simple but rude gesture.

I hear all about how guys touch girls with care when losing their virginity like how my friend Nevaeh lost hers and the boy was super gentle and nice, giving her small caresses.

I know this boy is rough by the way his fingers dig into my jaw and make me look up at him. It’s like he craves control in every way possible and I hate how I am so easily giving him it.

I try to push him off of me but he doesn’t budge. “I’ve been through shit. Shit you wouldn’t even be able to comprehend in that pretty little head of yours. You don’t want to get on my bad side because if you do, I’ll fucking ruin you. You think just because boys in this town are little pussies that I’m not? You better fucking pray you never see me again,” the boy says, meaning every awful word.

I keep my eyes on his, trying not to get lost in the beautiful specks of gray and green in them. I hate how pretty his eyes are. He shouldn’t be gifted with such amazing looks with an awful personality like that.

I see his eyes go down to my lips, making me lick them. I’m suddenly hot and I wonder if it’s because he is so close to me and his body is radiating heat. I feel him lean closer and I’m frozen in this moment, not daring to move. He is looking down at me like he suddenly thinks I have the answer to everything he needs.

He is so bipolar because how can he hate me one second and want to kiss me the next.

Boys are so stupid .

And when his breath hits my cheek, my phone vibrates from my bag. The boy looks down at my bag before looking up at me. He pushes himself off of me, making me suddenly feel cold.

“Remember what I said. What’s your name?” I don’t say anything, making him come closer to me again.

Before he touches me I say, “Jaclyn.”

“Jaclyn what?”

“King.”

He nods his head. “Better be lucky I never see you again,” he says before leaving from the alleyway.

He better hope I never see him again.

Fucking asshole.