Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
Four years later
RACHELLE
S ometimes, bad things happen to good people. Their light is so bright, it pulls in those who want to extinguish it, stomp it out, and you.
The question is: Do I let it? Hell, I’m not sure anymore. It feels as if I’ve always had a hard time pulling myself out of the muck, even if now it’s shiny and pretty filth. I’m a new student at Carlysle Prep School, and it’s my first day of school today. I suppose everyone has been staring at me all day because I’m new, but it’s really uncomfortable to have this many eyes on me as I move from class to class.
I feel pretty in my new school uniform, the only identifying thing about me is the complicated braid I pulled my shiny, dark brown hair into. Mom got married to a really nice man last month, which meant moving to a new town, a new house, a new family, and a new school.
I’m rolling with the punches, and am slowly feeling confident that I can handle this.
The hard tug on my hair is the only hint that something is wrong before things go to shit. I’m outside with a few girls that are speaking to me and seem nice. It’s lunch time, and I’m finishing up my bagged lunch when I stand to throw away my garbage.
I didn’t know that a bagged lunch wasn’t cool. The girls simply smiled at me while I ate, their hands empty of food. There isn’t a road map, I don’t know what’s right or wrong, and they seemed nice.
Where did it all go pear shaped?
“Ahh!” I gasp, my feet being forced to move across the muddy field.
I’m not sure why this is where they decided to have lunch today. Portland, Oregon has been getting so much rain the last few days, this is the first break that I’ve seen. Even then, it’s cool and overcast today.
Fuck, I hate to say this, but I miss Florida.
“Let go,” I snarl, struggling to turn around and face the person whose hand is wrapped in my braid.
“Thanks for introducing me to the new girl,” a boy’s deep voice purrs at the group behind me.
“Anything for you,” Marci says with a titter. I want to punch her in the face, but my mother has always preferred that I settle things differently from that.
Maybe she’ll accept the excuse that I was possessed by a demon, though I doubt it.
“Get off me,” I say, kicking back hard with my cute Mary Jane shoes. The bastard laughs, yanking me close to him.
“No one can save you from me, slut muffin,” he growls in my ear. “You’re too pretty for the other girls to like you, and the guys will all want to use you as a cum dumpster until they lose interest in you. So, allow me to give you a not so warm welcome to Carlysle Prep.”
His foot sweeps mine out from under me, kicking my back when my knees hit the ground so that I fall forward. He somehow manages to drop my hair at the same time, and then I’m drowning in ice cold mud.
I can’t breathe, it’s up my nose, and in my mouth!
His boot is against my neck, pushing me further into the soft mud while I scream. I want to puke, but I’ll probably die if I do that. Shutting my mouth feels difficult with all of the disgusting, sludge like shit inside of it, but I do it in spite of it all. My fingers claw at the earth, my body bucks and fights to get air, yet I can’t move an inch.
It also doesn’t help me escape from his honey wrapped venomous words in my ear, either.
“I need you to remember this feeling, little girl,” he rasps. His voice sounds like barbs of wire, deep and throaty as he speaks softly and slowly in my ear. It’s as if he has all the time in the world, while I’m thrashing on the ground. “You are nothing, less than, and your looks are all you have going for you. When my fingers snap, you’ll ask how high you need to jump, or how wide your mouth needs to open for my cock. Rachelle… the name reminds me of someone who should be living in a trailer park, not sullying our halls. You exist for my pleasure only. Remember that.”
It takes me a moment to realize that his heavy boot is off my neck, and then my face rises, my mouth opens, and I spit and retch. My stomach hurts, my body purging both food and mud that I somehow swallowed down when I inhaled the muck I was shoved in.
The boy looks pristine off to the side of me, his lips curled in disgust as I shudder and gasp, tears streaming down my face. His dark hair flops casually over his forehead, his cruel brown eyes belying how angelic he appears. There’s nothing sweet or pleasant inside of this hard, jaded human.
I feel humiliated, disgusted, and angry with a side of hopelessness.
Finding some saliva in my mouth, I spit at him, the glob hitting his shoe. I refuse to let him have the last word, even if I can’t speak at the moment. I’m too busy trying to breathe, reminding my body that I’m not still shoved in the mud.
It’s cold down here, and I’m shivering as I try to process why the fuck so many people hate me. The girls must have been some type of ruse. I don’t think I'll ever trust anyone again.
“Still so much fight,” he croons, his fingers roughly grabbing my hair before he’s shoving my face down on his shoe. I can smell the leather of it, the dirt underneath the treads, and how fucking expensive they must be. “Kiss my boot and I’ll consider not making you eat the disgusting thing you spit at me. This could get so much worse if you continue to throw my kindness in my face.”
“What kindness?” I scream, my lips still smushed against his boot toe. My teeth scrape across the leather as I speak, my hands trying to push myself away from him. His shoes are huge, nothing about him feels as if it should exist in a preparatory school.
“The one where I don’t make things even worse for you,” he growls, his boot pushing me away as it finds purchase on my shoulder. I know I’ll have a bruise there, one of the only ones because he’s been very careful not to leave any. His gaze stays on my shoulder for a minute to where I roll, now splayed on the ground.
Stalking forward, he rips away a clean piece of my skirt, cleaning his boot. He even spits on it so it’ll shine before shoving it into my mouth as I claw down his arms. I have no issues leaving marks. My mother didn’t have the best boyfriends when she first began dating, and I have been fighting for a long damn time.
I’m not about to stop now. It doesn’t matter that I’m now in a new city, living in a fancy new house. It’s all still the same in so many ways, except Mom’s shit boyfriends aren’t sneaking into my room. No, the only thing I have going for me is that Emil Reyes is actually nice, and completely in love with my mother.
I still don’t trust that this will last. Mom doesn’t have the best track record, even if she does love me. I’m fully aware that I’m the only one who can protect myself.
“Fuck, what’s going on here, Jared?” a smooth voice that I know says. “Is that my new step-sister that you’re torturing?”
Ignacio Reyes isn’t as nice as his father, though he pretends in front of everyone. It figures that he would be the one to find me like this.
“I don’t even know what her name is,” Jared lies, his lips twisting with mirth as he lets me go and moves away.
It appears as if he simply wants to get away from me, but his pants are tented with his erection, something he fixes by twitching his school jacket into place. Methodically, Jared ensures there’s no evidence of our scuffle, while I look absolutely fucking wrecked.
Gagging, I pull the material out of my mouth, allowing it to flutter to the ground. I just want to get the fuck out of here.
“Mmhmm,” Ignacio grunts, his gaze annoyed as he looks at me. His hair is a little longer than his father’s and he is missing the facial hair due to school regulations, otherwise it would be like looking in a mirror. “Rachelle, don’t shame your new family by returning to school like that. Just because you’re trailer trash doesn’t mean you have to act like it.”
Seeing my bag, he lifts it as I struggle to get up. I don’t want to be laying down while either of them are around. Two other guys stroll over, sneering as they gaze at me.
“Are you done playing with the new girl?” someone asks.
“For now,” Jared says, snorting as Ignacio opens my backpack and empties it into the mud at my feet. “Meet Nacio’s new step-sister. I’m sure you’ll see her around. Kind of makes me wish we were juniors so we won’t have to smell her.”
“You’re such a dick,” one of the guys says with a dark chuckle. “Lunch is just about over… Fuck, is that vomit?”
“I think she may have some kind of eating disorder,” Jared says casually, making me snarl at him. Ignacio snaps his fingers in front of my face in warning to keep my mouth shut, which surprises me more than anything.
I’m not a dog. What the fuck?
“Don’t wreck my car,” Ignacio growls, giving me his keys. I think this shocks me more than anything. While we rode together today, he told me not to get used to it.
The school doesn’t have a bus system because it’s a private educational institution and everyone is rich as fuck, except for me. I’m just a byproduct of a swanky new marriage. Going home sounds really good right now, I don’t even care about the papers on the ground. I already put all of my other things in my locker.
I’ll try again tomorrow, armor set in place, knowing the day will suck no matter what I do. It’s easier to set my expectations as low as possible so that I’m not let down.
My hopes were set too high today, and I won’t make that mistake again.
“Also, I have a heavy mat in the trunk for the front seat and a blanket,” Ignatio says in disgust. “Be sure to use them before you get inside of the car. Let’s head out, guys.”
Each one spits at my feet as if to mirror Ignatio’s feelings, leaving me alone with my shattered thoughts and broken dreams.
It was supposed to be different here, but it’s not.
* * *
I’m staring at the wall in my pretty room when my mom comes to find me. I keep a lot from her, hold it away from her finding out, because I don’t think she can handle it.
The fairy tale is what interests her, and I need to make certain that I fit into that space.
I’ve been home for hours, spending a large part of that time scrubbing at my skin, washing my hair, brushing my teeth several times, and gazing at the blooming bruise on my shoulder from when Jared shoved his boot there and pushed. It’s not the first nor will it be the last time that I’ve had a boot sized bruise, though I wish that wasn’t true.
“How was the first day of school?” she asks, smiling as she waits for me to tell her.
I’m wearing a pair of fuzzy pajamas, including socks, because Portland in the spring is cool and dreary. My hair is now dry and loose around my shoulders, the idea of wearing it in a braid ever again chilling and a sad reminder of what happened today. I need a little comfort, and it’s clearly not going to come in the form of a hug or a mother willing to leave her delusional, happy world. The chef quietly had a maid bring me a cup of hot chocolate about twenty minutes ago, since he caught a glimpse of me walking inside, and I have to say this is the best part of my day.
There are eyes everywhere in this house, which means nothing is private. I can’t get away with anything here, but I also don’t believe they’re telling my mother anything either. I’ll have to accept that this is where I’m living for now, until something bad happens.
It always does.
I take another sip of my hot beverage as I try to formulate both a lie and a distraction.
“It was fine, I just don’t think I fit in,” I begin, slowly licking chocolate off my lips. “Wouldn’t it be easier for me to attend a public school, not to mention less expensive?”
“Was it that bad?” Emil asks from the doorway, leaning in. It’s as if he’s attempting to not disrupt my privacy without permission, while still inserting himself into the conversation.
I mean, I guess this is better than what I’ve had to deal with in the past. Beggars can't be choosers, after all. Especially not trailer trash, as his son so sweetly pointed out.
“It was eye opening,” I say instead of what I really want to say. “The workload is intense, but I’m used to working hard.”
“Are you possibly trying to tell me that the students are awful?” Emil asks, smirking. I can see a lot of his son inside of him. I can’t say if he’s less of an asshole, simply that I haven’t seen evidence of it.
My new stepfather is tall, imposing, with short, dark brown hair that’s beginning to go a bit gray. It feels as if his eyes see more than what I’m saying, pulling away the layers of lies and shadows that I tightly wrap around myself so people will never see how shy and insecure I actually am.
I’m willing to fight for my survival, I simply wish it wasn’t necessary.
I can see why my mom is drawn to him, though. He screams safety, but I can’t bring myself to believe it. I’m tired of being wrong.
“I’m saying nothing of the sort,” I murmur, my fingers picking at a loose thread in my pants. These pajamas are old, but I don’t like to ask for anything I can’t repay.
The full rack of school clothes was a compromise, one I’m already regretting.
“Rachelle,” Emil rumbles. “I know it’s a big change, but they feel like you’re an outsider, and this world doesn’t take well to those.”
My mom blinks for a moment, turning to face her new husband.
“Should she go to a public school then?” she asks. “Rachelle shouldn’t have to worry about bullying while already bending so much.”
Wow. Did she just take my side? Heat prickles behind my eyes, and I blink hard, attempting to hold back the tears that are threatening to overwhelm me. I can’t let this be the thing that breaks me.
“I don’t know if it was that bad—” Emil begins when he catches sight of the first tear to track down my face. “Fuck.”
The word makes me flinch. This is where it starts isn’t it?
“Rachelle, breathe,” Mom says, and I realize that I stopped as the black spots roll over my vision.
“I didn’t mean to say that to you,” Emil says, his eyes on me, assessing. “Can I come in, please?”
Mom glances at him before dismissing him, her hand on my back.
“He’s not going to kick us out because you had a bad day,” she says slowly to me.
“I… well, of course not,” Emil says, but I draw up my legs and hide my face in them. “Julia.”
“Not right now,” my mother says. “Wait your turn.”
My mom says it so nonchalantly, yet seriously, and it helps pull me out of the darkness.
“Really, Mom?” I ask her, my voice clogged with emotion.
“I told Emil when we got married that you come first,” she says. “I messed up a lot, Rachelle, but I’m trying. He’ll stay right at that door until you invite him in.”
“Julia, mi amor, ” Emil growls. “Who do I need to kill?”
“She won’t tell me,” Mom sighs. “She never does. Rachelle?”
A few deep breaths help me process the fact that I’m not being yelled at, and I peek my head up.
“How bad was today?” Emil asks.
I can see the shadow of someone behind him, and I shake my head as I gaze at it. My stepfather snarls at the person behind him, allowing me to see the same violence that lives in his son. Except, it’s not being directed at me.
I don’t know how to feel about that.
“I’m speaking to my wife and stepdaughter, Nacio, I know very well how you feel about this, but kindly fuck right off,” he says. Turning to me, Emil tries again. “Permission to continue this conversation inside of your room, mijita ?”
I don’t know what it means, but it sounds sweet, which surprises me enough to nod.
Emil steps in and slams the door in Ignacio’s face, his son’s gray eyes on me alone. They look surprised that I’m upset, or that his father wants to speak to me.
I don’t understand this place at all.
“Okay,” Emil says. “I have a lot of questions, and it seems as if you have many secrets. How am I doing, Rachelle?”
Swallowing hard, I swear I can still taste dark, disgusting mud, which makes me twitch. I’m certain I look insane as I force myself to appear as if I’m shrugging instead. Ambivalent feels safer for the moment.
“Alright,” he grunts. “Did you really think I was going to hurt you?”
“It’s not the first time I’ve been hurt today,” I mumble, the only truth I’m willing to give up today.
Tugging my shirt to the side, I show him the beginnings of a gnarly bruise.
“I would and will never,” he whispers. “I don’t remember Carlysle Prep being that bad. What else happened?”
“It was nothing,” I state, allowing my shirt to snap back into place. “I don’t want to go back.”
“So you’d rather quit, when you know the education is better there?” he asks.
My mother scowls at him, a look I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
“I don’t mean it like that,” he says. “Why would you let them win?”
Are you still going to be asking that question when I end up in a body bag?
I hold those words back because they’re dramatic, my lips pressing together.
“Emil, I understand what you’re trying to do here, but you don’t know how the day went,” Mom says. “It’s clear they hurt her.”
“My same words apply,” he says stubbornly, crossing his arms. “So what about it, Rachelle?”
I want to quit, go somewhere safer for school, but I can see the shadow of a large male underneath my door. Ignacio will always live here, and by extension, his friends will have access to me.
“My mom discourages fighting,” I say, my voice soft. “I don’t want to be a punching bag the rest of the year, Emil.”
“Ah,” he says, nodding. “I have something, I think. Julia?—”
“Whatever you want as long as it keeps her safe,” Mom grunts. “Rachelle has a temper, so maybe make it non-lethal, too. I mean it, Emil.”
Where the hell is my mother? She’s typically very nonviolent.
“Just because I’ve been a shitty mother, doesn’t mean I have to continue to be,” Mom sighs.
Emil glances between us, logging the exchange while not saying anything.
“This isn’t about lethality,” he finally admits. “I want them to think twice before touching you, female or male. No one will go to Headmaster Pruitt, because then she’ll have to call me. I don’t fuck around, mijita . I will walk in like a whirlwind and destroy people. I’m only soft for the people I care about, and even then I draw the line when I find out they may be hurting each other.”
My fair skin flushes at his words and he nods at me. He’s telling me he won’t hesitate to reprimand Ignacio if he finds out he’s hurting me. So far my stepbrother hasn’t, outside of a few hurtful words and the refusal to step between his friend’s fun.
“I’ll be right back,” Emil murmurs, standing and walking out of the room. He’s careful to close the door, though I can hear a few choice words spoken under his breath.
“You look confused, Rachelle,” Mom says.
“I didn’t think this conversation was going to go this way,” I say. “I thought I’d be asked to pack my bags and be thrown out while you lived out your blissful life.”
My mom gazes at me for a moment before shaking her head. “I think you’ve read too many books,” she mutters.
My mother never caught the men in her life in the act of hurting me, except once over a year ago. I was screaming and clawing at Colton while he raped me. I was so close to still being a virgin, until that asshole.
Mom didn’t know he was crashing in her bedroom, waiting for her while she was at work. He got tired of watching the time go by, and decided I was an easier lay.
Her non-violence streak ended that day when she slammed into my room, grabbed my lamp, and smashed it on his thick head. The worst part was how it felt while she and I struggled to get him out and off me.
I should have known that the kickass Mom from that day that called the police, got him arrested, and promised she would never bring another man around me without a serious commitment was still inside of her.
The memory of Colton makes me shudder with revulsion, and Mom hugs me tightly.
“It’s you and me, kid,” she says fiercely. “Things will be better. I know I suck. Losing your dad threw me into a head spin, and I couldn’t find my way back. I’m here now, okay?”
Nodding, I allow myself to hug her back as I cry. For today, for the girl who couldn’t fight back hard enough on the day after my fifteenth birthday, and the girl I am now.
A knock at the door forces me to pull it back, and my mom brings me a soft towel from the connecting bathroom because tissues are not going to work with the waterfall of tears that I just shed.
“Your room,” my mom reminds me. “Can he come in?”
“You’re really serious about this?” I ask her, chewing my bottom lip as I mop up my face. “This is his house.”
“This is your room within his house,” she corrects me. “You’re allowed to set boundaries, limits about what happens here.”
I don’t think she’s ever said anything like that to me, and my mom blushes slightly.
“Emil suggested I go to therapy when we first started dating,” Mom says. “We’d been dating for about a month, and at first I was angry and offended. However, it did help a lot. I needed to work through some things so I can be a better, well everything.”
Nodding, I gasp as I remember that Emil is still waiting for me to respond to his knock.
“Come in!” I call out, embarrassed. It’s going to take time for me to get used to that, though I think that I’ll still lock my door before I go to bed at night.
Some habits die hard, and I don’t trust my stepbrother very much. It may seem harsh, but I don’t really trust anyone.
Emil opens the door easily, not upset to be kept waiting. There’s a small box in his hands, and he shuts the door behind himself.
“I bought this with the intention of giving it to you when you moved here last month, but I forgot with everything going on,” he says, looking abashed.
They met online, did a lot of video dates and chats, and then he began flying down regularly four months ago to see my mom. I met him once before we moved in with him. The purpose of the dinner was so they could tell me together that they were getting married.
I think my head spun, I couldn’t get over how fast it felt. It’s clear that he cares about my mother though. It’s sweet that he thought at all about me too. I’m not used to being much else other than a second thought until recently.
Emil hands me the box, and it almost appears to be a phone. Confused, I open it to find a stun gun.
“It also has pepper spray and a flashlight to blind someone,” he explains. “Your uniform jacket should have pockets. Carry it with you. Anyone who touches you will be sorry. I know you want to change schools, but get through the rest of this semester, and then we’ll go from there.”
“Okay,” I murmur, blowing out a breath. My body is sore, and I’m beginning to get hungry since my lunch didn’t stay in my stomach today. “I feel as if there’s a different set of rules at Carlysle Prep that everyone just grows up with, but I don’t know. I managed to do everything wrong.”
“You want to fit in,” Emil assumes.
“I don’t want to stick out as a target,” I correct him.
My stepfather thinks to himself for a moment before grunting, “One of my associates has a daughter that seems nice enough and has a backbone. She goes to your school, and is in your grade as well. I’ll have her pick you up and take you to school, since I believe my son has been less than kind to you. She will show you the ropes. Please take the stun gun with you tomorrow.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Mom asks, worried.
Gazing down at the stun gun, I say, “Yes, I think I will be. It has to be better than today was.”
“Hungry?” Emil asks. “I have the strange feeling you may not have eaten much today.”
Startled, I meet his fierce hazel gaze and realize there’s something there that his son doesn’t have and its protectiveness. The last man to feel like that about me was my father.
“Yeah, I think I am,” I tell him.
“It’s dinner time,” Mom says, standing. “Join us?”
“Ignacio went out with friends so it’ll be just us,” Emil says quickly. “You don’t even have to change. It’s been a long day, pajamas are a good way to finish it.”
That’s how I end up having dinner with Mom and her new husband, and I realize I may not hate him.