Prologue
Scarlett
I look at myself in the cracked mirror in my bedroom, holding back my tears as I lift my shirt and can see the multiple bruises lining my stomach courtesy of my father, along with a split lip. I was running a little late with his dinner last night, and he didn’t like that, so he delivered one of his many punishments. He wasn’t always like this. When I was little, he was someone I would look up to, who always had time for me. But that all changed the moment my mom walked out on both of us without a backward glance. And now he’s someone I don’t recognize at all. All he cares about is getting drunk andhigh. To him, I remind him of Mom, and now he takes his anger out on me, and one of these days he’s going to go too far. I know it as I can feel it with each hit he now delivers. I want out; I need out. Living in fear daily isn’t what I envisioned my life becoming, always wondering and waiting for the next blow to come because I wasn’t fast enough to get his food or I was breathing too loudly in his direction. Anything I’ve ever had in my life, he has stolen and sold to get his next fix because he can’t seem to keep a job to save his life. So everything I make at the general store goes to him and the house bills. He owes money to some powerful people, and every time they come to the house to collect; they give me a look as if they are waiting for something, and it makes me scared. So, I try to make myself scarce. I just don’t have a good feeling.
I was so happy when I got the job at Farrington General Store. I just fell in love with Grandma Silvia. The first time she hugged me, I almost burst into tears because I don’t even remember the last time someone hugged me. Grandma Silvia always makes sure I have food to eat, saying she’s made too much. The truth is, he starves me and gives me only enough to stay alive. Saying I don’t deserve to have anything, that I’ve taken enough from him. I can see the concern in her eyes, along with Willow and Savannah, but I can never tell them what’s been going on. I just wish I could leave and never look back, but I have nowhere to go. With that depressing thought, I walk down the stairs in hopes that I could find some painkillers for my ribs. I even had to call in sick to work because there was no way I would be able to stand all day.
Before I can make it to the kitchen, someone knocks on the front door, making my body shake with fear. Is it the guys my dad owes money to? I walk slowly to the door and peek out the small window, and I swear my eyes are deceiving me because there’s no way Ghost from The Lost Saints MC is at my house.
His knocking becomes persistent. “I know you're in there, Scarlett, open the door.”
With my hand on the knob, I blow out a breath, ready to get this over with, wondering what he wants. Ghost has got to be the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. I can hardly string two words together when he comes into the store. I open the door and there he stands in all his glorious hotness.
He looks over at my face, and at that moment I know I made a huge error as I forgot to put my foundation on, cover up the split lip. He looks furious. “Who the fuck did that, Scarlett? I want their names.” He growls out the words, making me panic, not in fear of him, just of him finding out what my father has been doing to me.
I so badly want to just rip my heart open and tell someone, anyone, what I'm going through, but I can’t. He’s already threatened me, so for now, I need to keep this to myself. I plaster on a smile and recite the lie I know so well.
“I, um, fell down the stairs last night when I was coming down for dinner. I wasn’t watching where I was going and tripped over the last couple of steps. Honestly, it looks worse than it feels.” I’m lying. The pain is so intense right now that I can barely stand. I just need him to believe it. But the narrow set of his eyes, I don’t think I was all too convincing. I really should be a pro at this by now, but I was never good at lying.
“Scarlett.”
“Really, I’m okay. I just need to be more careful. I’m just so clumsy most days. You know, two left feet and all that.” I try to brighten my smile, so he buys the lie and leaves. My father can’t know that he was here or I’ll be in more trouble, and I don’t think I could take another one of his beatings tonight.
He narrows his eyes at me as if he’s gearing up to say something else before he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me see your phone.”
I debate it for a second before I dig my phone out of my back pocket and hand it over. I watch as he types something in and can hear another phone ring before he hands it back.
“I put my number in there. If you find yourself hurt again, call me night or day and I’ll come right over. I don’t care if you stubbed your toe. If you're hurt, I want to know. Okay?”
I clutch my phone to my chest. My tears are threatening to fall. I’ve never had someone care so much about whether or not I’m okay. So I do the only thing I can do: lie once more. “I promise I will call.” Because as much as I want to, no one can ever know.
One
Scarlett
It’s been over a month since Ghost stopped by my house looking for me, and I’ve yet to use his phone number regardless of how many times after that I got a new bruise. Anytime my dad would lay into me over something so small, I would go into my room and bring his number up, with my finger hovering over the call button, but I never had the guts to follow through. The beatings seem to be getting worse. My dad is more stressed out than ever, and I seem to be his favorite punching bag. He comes home later than usual and keeps all the curtains in the house closed. I don’t know what he’s gotten himself into now,but I know it’s bad. God, what I wouldn’t give to have my old dad back. The one who used to play with me when I was little, who would take me to the park and push me on the swings. The dad who would hold me when I was scared of the monsters under my bed. Now he’s turned into the monster most people fear. The beatings, the hateful looks he gives me because I look so much like Mom, and the hurtful words he says to me daily. When is it enough? How much more can I take before he takes it too far?
I sigh and try not to think about what’s in store for me when I get home tonight. I had just finished stocking the shelves and turned to find Grandma Silvia standing behind me, scaring me, making me jump slightly.
“Tinkerbell, why don’t I get Owen to drive you home? It wouldn’t take him but a minute to get here. It's getting late, and I don’t like you out walking by yourself.” I look out the window and can see that the sun is starting to set.
I turn back around and smile at Grandma Silvia. “No, that’s okay. I don’t mind the walk; besides, it’s such a nice day out.” In truth, I don’t want to go home so quickly, so I take my time walking home. It’s a gamble because I never know what kind of mood he’s going to be in, but it’s better than Grandpa Owen seeing my dad. I walk to the front, grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder, trying to hold back my wince since I have a fresh bruise there.
“Are you sure, Tink? Owen wouldn't mind.”
I grab her hands in mine and squeeze them before she really does call Grandpa Owen. “I’m positive.” She pulls me into a hug and holds on. I close my eyes at the motherly hug and, like every time she hugs me, I will myself not to cry.
She pulls back and starts fussing over me, making me smile. “Alright, Tink. Now you be safe walking home, and I put some snacksin your bag for later. I made too many cookies, and Owen is banned from having any since he has to watch his sugar intake. I will see you tomorrow.”
Grandpa Owen is as fit as ever. I do believe Grandma Silvia is telling a fib. Though I do love her cookies, so I don’t say anything. “Thank you. I will see you tomorrow.”
I walk out the front door and turn back around to see Grandma Silvia waving at me. I wave back and make my way home. With each passing moment, the little bit of happiness I was feeling leaves me, and dread fills my body. My house comes into view, and my heart sinks as I can see my father looking out of the window.And and as soon as he spots me, a murderous look overtakes his face. For just a fleeting moment, I have the urge to run far and fast, but I know if I don’t get in there, it will be much worse if he catches me. I make it to the front door, and before I can use my key; the door opens up, and I’m dragged inside and thrown on the floor.
A solid kick to my ribs makes me groan in pain. “Where were you, bitch?” Another kick, and this time I’m pretty sure he’s cracked a rib, but I know better than to cry out for help. I guess I don’t answer him quickly enough because he grabs me by the hair and drags me to the living room. I bite my lip to stop the scream. “Answer me, you whore!” Spit flies from his mouth.
“I was at work.” I whimper with each breath I take; it hurts so badly.
He delivers another solid kick this time to my kidneys, making me cry out in pain. "Don’t lie to me. You were with that biker trash you had at the house. Don’t think I don’t know about that. Whoring yourself out, I see, just like your mother."
