Scarred for Life Read online

  Scarred for Life

  by

  S. L. Kassidy

  Scarred for Life

  By S. L. Kassidy

  First Edition copyright 2013 S. L. Kassidy

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form other than that which it was purchased and without the express permission of the author or publisher. Please note that piracy of copyrighted materials violate the author’s right and is illegal.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: R. Lee Fitzsimmons

  Cover Design: Jamani Hawkins-El

  Back of Book

  Dane Wolfe is a loner. Forsaken by her family and betrayed by people close to her, she has lost all faith in people and spends her days wondering the streets with no direction or meaning. She drifts through life, existing and nothing more.

  Nicole Cardell is a successful, attorney. She has too much faith in people and is being taken advantage of by her boyfriend, Tyler, Dane’s cousin. She’s tired of his selfish ways and tosses him out. The bad relationship leaves her questioning her judgment.

  Circumstances bring Dane and Nicole together and a friendship brings them closer. They’re able to heal each other and bring balance to each other’s lives. Their peace is shattered when family causes trouble and tears them apart. Will they find their path back to each other and to the love that was slowly growing?

  Dedication

  I would like to thank and dedicate this book to my family, who supported my writing long before I thought it was worth anything, and to my online friends that helped me believe in myself and allowed themselves to be conscripted into betareading stories, whether they wanted to or not.

  You all know who you are

  CHAPTER 1

  An early spring implied the year had promise. The beauty brought on by the bright greens of the grass and leaves, the clear blue sky, the cheerful songs of all types of birds, and the caress of the breeze made it seem like everything was fine in the world. Nothing could ever go wrong.

  The neighborhood kept up that façade, holding just as much promise as the day. Well-kept, two-story houses lined the spotless streets. If fences made good neighbors, everyone around must get along rather well since a fence, gate, or dense hedge neatly separated each home. Each house had a large front yard with vibrant, verdant lawns, as if no one dared to mess up the perfect picture by having a piece of grass out of place. Sculptured shrubs and colorful flowerbeds almost made the lawns seem like works of art.

  Would everything be so sweet if people knew a former predator roamed their fair streets? If they knew a wolf was prowling about their picturesque little neighborhood? If they knew the Great Dane was outside their doors and could be picking up their daughters? Well, could, but more than likely wouldn't. Dane shook those thoughts away and continued down the street, a noticeable limp in her stride. ‘Quaint’ came to mind for the place. It seemed like some place comfortable, and even held the possibility of being—real. She hadn't had the opportunity to spend time in many "real" places, but she'd bet the neighborhood was just as phony as any other environment she had ever had the displeasure of walking through.

  Dull grey eyes glanced at each house. Dane liked to think that each held a happy family that was doing the right thing, but she was certain that was just a dream—the last shred of human hope held in her withered, tired heart. Each house, each individual, probably had more secrets than most would fathom. Some of those secrets were quite benign; any healthy life racked up a few mild secrets. But, others…others could mean jail sentences, children taken away, property lost, excommunication, and exile from the community.

  It was possible that somewhere in all of those prim yards, tidy driveways, and immaculate houses, there was a family that was generally all right. A family filled with people that truly cared for each other and others and tried to do the right thing. Law of averages. Not that she cared.

  As she continued on down the sidewalk, she saw children playing. They looked like they were about eight to ten years old. They weren't playing anything in particular, a girl jumping rope, a few boys throwing around a baseball, and a couple of kids circling around on bikes. She chuckled; she thought children didn't do that anymore, but apparently she was wrong. It was nice to see kids playing outside on their block, almost like a television show.

  Youthful eyes stared at her as she came through. She suspected she might have had the word ‘outsider’ branded to her copper-toned forehead or they just knew that she didn't belong. It seemed like the type of little neighborhood where everyone knew everyone else, at least in passing. Of course, no one knew her. She was new, she stood out, and she carried herself in a manner that she doubted was fit for the pure and simple area.

  She pushed a ratty, rusted bike that screamed its condition every inch of the way. She had a backpack with one strap broken and duct tape covering the bottom as well as a hole on the side. She held a worn guitar case in hand. It couldn't help that she had two barbell piercings in her left eyebrow. She wore an atrocious pair of jean shorts that ended just below her knees. Some puffed-up scars poked out from underneath the right cuff while light scars cut across both legs. She had a pronounced limp. A chain dangling from her pocket to her belt loop chimed as it hit against her slim thigh, which caught the kids' attention for a second.

  Having become an expert in ignoring people and shutting out the world, Dane pressed on. She crossed a street and noted the sign telling her that she was now on 23rd street. She went into the pocket of her baggy shorts and pulled out a wrinkled sheet of yellow paper, which read "23rd and Jordan Ave. 23-07."

  Checking the street signs, she made sure she was on the right track. She scratched her head with the hand that held the paper, mussing her wild mop of black hair. Replacing the paper into her pocket, she pushed her bike onto 23rd Street, and began scanning for the house in the fading daylight.

  The home she sought was in the middle of the street. It was a doppelganger of those around it, but painted a striking crimson. The short, rich lawn was divided by a walkway leading up to a clean, long porch. There was a tree on the left side of the lawn that her gaze lingered on, thinking about how she would've loved to climb the lengthy, broad branches when she was a child. She quickly rid herself of that thought, knowing that it'd take her to morose, nightmarish places.

  Dropping her bike at the bottom of the steps, she scaled the five low stairs to the porch. Glancing at the two windows flanking the door, she saw that the house was dark. Still, she knocked. When the loud rapping wasn't answered, she presumed no one was there or she wasn't wanted. Either way, she wasn't getting in the house.

  Peering over at the driveway, she noted a luxury black Mercedes sedan parked there. Since the car was there someone might be back quickly. There were stores, restaurants, and takeout places not too far from the house, so the idea of a person walking wasn't farfetched.

  Dane was about to sit down on the stairs and wait. She could use a break; her leg was screaming for a reprieve. A grumbling noise halted those plans. She glanced around and when she didn't see any angry bears around, she gathered the clangor had come from her stomach. Her eyes drifted down to her g
rowling belly, seeing nothing but her torn black, short sleeve shirt.

  "All right, monster, I'll feed you. I just need to see how much money I have," she muttered, digging into her pocket. She retrieved her worn leather wallet using the long chain it was connected to. "Hmm…shocking that a moth didn't fly out of this thing. Couldn't even buy a stick of gum right now. Isn't that always the way?"

  Snickering, she shook her head and replaced her wallet into her pants. Gathering her bike, she proceeded to make her way off of the property. Her stomach voiced its displeasure again, much louder than before. She merely laughed again.

  "Cry all you want, but it damn sure isn't putting food in you and it ain't putting no fucking money in my wallet either," she remarked. Her belly grumbled again and she ignored it. She wasn't in the mood to search for a bank right now.

  ***

  A pair of car doors slamming echoed throughout the quiet neighborhood. The bright moon and a sprinkle of stars, shining down like spotlights, were witness to the loud clicking of high heels that strode up the stone walkway. The heels were quickly accompanied by the soft shuffle of leather shoes. Pink-painted, glistening lips twisted and frowned when the sound of the other shoes followed along. The heels tapped quicker for a few seconds before returning to the original, tense pace. Keys jangled as they were freed from the small black handbag. Before they could do their job, they met with gravity and ended up on the wooden porch.

  A groan followed the plummet. "Come on, babe, it's cold," the owner of the leather shoes peremptorily commented. His tall form was hunched over, as if that would fight off the cold. A few strands of his combed back, dark brown hair fell into his deep chestnut eyes as he tried to curl into himself. His sort of baby face and rounded jaw were tense. If he knew what he looked like, he probably would have straightened up because he was distorting his handsome, confident image. He was wearing an expensive white oxford shirt and designer black slacks, not fit for the cool night.

  "Yeah, I hadn't noticed that at all, Tyler," his companion answered, leaning down to pick up the keys.

  Tyler checked out her ass as her black dress rode up her legs a little more. She rolled her emerald green eyes; eyes that were fiery and as hard as the gem they were colored after. Recovering her keys, she quickly opened the door and almost shut it before Tyler could come inside. She caught herself before the door slammed into Tyler's perfect nose.

  "It was great to go out, wasn't it, Nikki?" Tyler asked, closing the door.

  She flinched at the casual use of her nickname. Only her parents called her by that nickname. "It was all right," Nicole answered in a flat tone. After seeing a movie she had never wanted to waste her time on and picking up the check at a restaurant she didn't like, Nicole was at least able to check her email at dinner. She'd have a light day at work on Monday for once.

  These dates were the norm for them now and she wondered when that happened. When did our dates start becoming what Tyler desired rather than what we'd both enjoy? The thought was dismissed in favor of her craving for a hot shower and to be out of Tyler's presence.

  "It was more than all right," Tyler purred, wrapping his arms around Nicole's slim waist and pulling her to his larger form. He nuzzled her olive-toned neck, breathing deeply on her skin. "You smell so good…" he whispered, placing a gentle kiss to her neck.

  "Yeah, well, I'm tired," she replied brusquely, tearing away from his embrace.

  "Babe," Tyler said, reaching out for her. She escaped his arm length as quickly as she could. He snorted, frowning when he missed her.

  "I'm going to take a shower," she informed him and didn't have to look back to know he was fixing his mouth to say something stupid. "And no, you can't join me."

  Tyler's shoulders slumped and he pouted as she retreated upstairs. Nicole showered, dressed in flannel blue pajama bottoms and an old, university t-shirt, and entered her bedroom. The first thing she noticed was Tyler's clothes and her mango-colored comforter were on her otherwise clutter-free floor. She growled and cast incensed jade eyes on Tyler. He was reclined on the queen-sized bed, watching television in his boxers and socks. A few deep breaths kept her from voicing the indignation that was slowly coursing through her with increasing intensity.

  Everything in her beige-colored bedroom was immaculate by design. Items on the polished mahogany vanity, dresser, and nightstand were put in place with precision. On the vanity, perfume and nail polish were perfectly aligned along with a few framed pictures of her family. There was also a picture of Tyler, placed there by the man himself. A calendar and a few neatly stacked books rested on top of the dresser. On the wall facing the bed was an entertainment center with a fifty inch, wall-mounted LED-lit, HD television and DVD player. The television was a little off-center because there was a window on that wall too. At the front of the room, there were two large windows.

  Nicole thought about how Tyler always littered her house in someway. He discarded his clothing on the floor, abandoned his magazines everywhere, and left his dishes wherever he ate, which was never at a table. She didn't care how he lived at his apartment, but it bothered her how he lived at her home. She decried his behavior often, but her words seemed to go through one ear and out the other. A repugnant habit of his that she had hoped he'd outgrow.

  "I guess you're staying the night," she said. A vein throbbed at the side of her head. He doesn't even bother to ask anymore.

  "Yeah, I thought it would be a nice end to a nice evening," he replied, attempting a sexy smirk.

  Once upon a time, she had thought it was sexy. She frowned and pushed down bile as it rose in her throat. "Well, I'm tired."

  Tyler missed the hint because he leaned over to her side as soon as she lay down. Reaching out, he caressed her thigh. She shuddered. "I just said I'm tired." She removed his adventurous hand.

  "Baby, you're trembling for me," he whispered before kissing her cheek and trying to turn her around to him. Saving him the trouble, she faced him. His smile was prurient.

  "I don't want to." She shoved him squarely in the chest, knocking him to the other side of the bed.

  "Babe…" His eyes wide with disbelief, glancing down at himself making sure everything was intact.

  She knew he was wondering what the hell was wrong with her, especially since she had never denied him before. She could read him like a book. Unfortunately, he couldn't do the same.

  "I said I was tired and I don't want to," she repeated with a tight, irritated expression.

  "I thought you were just playing hard to get. The night was so nice. I thought we'd cap it off. I want to make you feel good, baby," Tyler replied, reaching over to run his fingers up and down her arm. She moved out of his range. She was close to falling out of bed to escape him now.

  The vein at the side of her head bulged and throbbed. "I'm tired, far from in the mood, and I have work to get to in the morning," she stated. I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to have the patience for this… for him.

  "It's Sunday tomorrow," he pointed out. In other words, he thought she should spend her time with him instead of working.

  She growled. "I had to bring work home."

  "Oh. But, I thought you had easy cases," he stated with a deprecating shrug. He often admonished her, saying she let too many people take advantage of her at work, which slowed her down. He also made it a point to constantly reprimand her for being inefficient because she always brought work home, which took time away from him.

  Nicole balled up her hands into fists, but counted to ten deliberately in her head. The vein on her temple appeared ready to burst. Why does he always have to say such incredibly ignorant things? He’s well aware that sometimes I have to take work home with me just like he does. They had similar jobs, after all. But then again, he probably wasn't interrupted as often as she was when working. She just couldn't see people going to him for help or him giving assistance if people did request it. He was too selfish for that.

  "I don't have time for this. I'm going to sleep. Make su
re you pick your clothes up off the floor," she said before turning her back to him.

  Tyler grunted. He never picked up his offending clothes. She'd get them when she woke up. She always did.

  The honeymoon period was definitely over. It was probably over after she allowed Tyler to move in that things commenced to turn rancid. About three months ago, a fire had damaged his apartment. Nicole offered Tyler a place to stay at her home. Even after his apartment was repaired, it was like he never moved out and things between them seemed to shift much more noticeably then.

  Once he moved in, she learned about habits of his that clashed with her lifestyle, but she continued to see him. She thought maybe they just needed to adjust to each other because they were closer. Quite the erroneous presupposition. He was becoming a constant headache, like a bullet right through the temple.

  ***

  There were lights on upstairs and a familiar looking, two-door, red Porsche was settled in front of the house. The knock was forceful. Mumbled curse words informed her that the rap reached its designated target like a missile. The door was ripped open.

  "What? Do you know what fucking time it is." Tyler stood in the doorway in his orange boxers, white V-neck t-shirt, and his socks. His hair went out in several directions. "Dane? What the hell are you doing here?" he snapped, incensed brown eyes focused on her. He inclined his chin while regarding her, looking down his nose.

  Her face scrunched up. "No, Tyler, I don't know what time it is, but then again, I was always skeptical that you could tell time." Her brain berated her, Don't insult the person you need to ask for a favor, idiot. She ignored her brain; she'd insult whomever she damn well pleased. She detested requesting a favor, despised the people that she needed to ask, and needed to lash out in someway. Maybe she'd be turned away and it'd be a turning point of some kind for her. "I need a place to drop for a couple of days." She tugged at the one good strap on her book bag.