Hyde

Book Three of the Devil's Roses

A novel

By

Tara Brown

Copyright 2012 Tara Brown

http://TaraBrown22.blogspot.com/

Smashwords Edition

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Edited by Nick J

Other books by Tara Brown

Cursed-Book One the
Devil's Roses

Bane-Book Three the
Devil's Roses

Hanna

Chapter One: A promise is a promise

She looked at her surroundings confused, her
body trembled as if she was cold but her skin burned. Her breath
felt as if it left her face only to rebound on something. The
darkness around her should have comforted her. She had always felt
safer in the dark it was easier to hide in, instead she felt lost
in space. Something was moving her. She put an aching hand out to
find how far the wall was from her but her hand was stopped within
inches. The wall was a carpet of sorts. She felt a rumbling beneath
her and looked up, she was in the trunk of a moving car.

As with most people who do not enjoy small
places, the diminutive space shrunk around her as she panicked.
Suddenly it was as if she were Alice and had eaten the cake to make
her grow instantly, filling up the trunk. She felt her bitter
shivers increase as she panicked and blood left her extremities.
She closed her eyes and decided to focus on the other obvious
problem she was being faced with instead of falling victim to a
panic attack.

She moved her hands over her aching body feeling
her clothes torn, shredded almost. She could feel the tattered ends
of her shirt hanging open. She flexed her muscles that felt tender
but not wounded. She closed her eyes trying to recall the last
thing she could but her thoughts seemed stuck, as if the gears in
her mind required oiling. Everything was hazy except her heartbeat,
which pounded fierce enough that she could feel it in her socks.
Scratch that, tattered socks. Her toes dangled from the ends of
them.

“I’ve been raped.”

The statement rolled off her lips as a subtle
whisper but it felt as if it weighed a ton once it hung in the air
around her. Abruptly, as if sent on a twisted path beyond her
control, her mind thought about the recent summer still fresh and
warm on her skin. She thought about how she’d dated Jimmy Stratton,
who had waited eight months for them to lose their virginity
together. It had happened on a hot August afternoon, lazily by a
river near his parent's house. She remembered how it felt, not
great considering the effort that went into making it a perfect
experience, but also how violated she had felt afterward.

That feeling of violation was suddenly fresh in
her mind. She felt the tears slipping silently down her cheeks, how
had this happened? Where had she been? She pushed her mind flexing
it as she had with her muscles, desperate to recall something. Her
memories were going back days not hours.

It didn’t matter what she could remember, she
knew that girls who woke up in trunks sore and exhausted with
clothes ripped to shit had been kidnapped and raped. There was also
a real possibility of torture. She thought about the pain involved
in torture and decided instantly, cringing with disgust, she would
be a good girl. She would do whatever her cruel attacker wanted,
she wanted to live. She planned it out in her mind as the car
rumbled along the road, she would live through this.

Then she would recover from her PTSD by becoming
a nun or a monk. She puzzled over whether girls could be monks,
swearing she had seen something about female monks.

Her thoughts slowed along with the tires of the
car, stopping altogether as it did. She felt panicked and decided
fake sleeping might buy her a little time. It would at least get
her a few answers as most were less guarded around sleeping
people.

She felt her body relax as she pretended to be
unconscious but her muscles refused to play along, they twitched
wanting to come to life and fight for her freedom. She knew she
would never get back the memories and with the state of her
clothing she didn’t truly care if she ever got them back. What
terrified her was the possibility of making any new memories with
her attacker.

She heard the car go into park.

She heard the parking brake.

The keys pulled from the starter.

Driver door opened.

Feet crunch down on the gravel, soft gravel.

Door closed.

Feet crunching closer to the trunk.

Feet stopped outside the trunk.

Breath of the stranger.

Keys sliding into the lock.

Cold night air rushed into the trunk as the
latch opened. She fought with her eyes forcing them to remain
closed. Desperately they struggled against her to see him, who was
he? She thought about the possibilities, janitors or construction
workers, fellow grads, teachers. Realistically it could be
anyone.

“I see you're holding your breath, I know you’re
not sleeping and honestly I don’t want to carry you anymore.” The
voice was old, she could tell. Old and English. Continuing to hold
her breath she thought long and hard but came up blank. She didn’t
know anyone matching that description.

He didn’t touch her or bend down to her. He
wasn’t threatening her. He just stood there. She waited ten more
seconds and opened one eye very slowly.

He was incredibly old, she paused for a moment
focusing on him, “You? You raped me?” The words crept from her
mouth.

He jumped back startled, “My word, I most
definitely did nothing of the sort.” His cheeks flushed as he
stammered, “I-I only rescued y-you.”

He looked truly offended. Hanna looked down at
her ripped clothing looking confused, “You found me like this?”

He nodded holding a hand out to her.

Before taking his hand she stopped and thought
for a moment, “You found me like this and decided to put me in your
trunk instead of taking me to a hospital. I need a rape kit done.
You’re going to have to answer to the authorities.”

He frowned looking confused, “Miss Hanna, no one
has harmed you.” He tilted his head off to the side, “You did this
to yourself. I put you in the trunk to protect myself.”

Her eyes widened as did her mouth wanting to
speak but instead her jaw remained open in confusion.

She shook her head, “I don’t understand.”

He pulled a dark green fleecy blanket from the
trunk near her feet. He reached in very slowly and held it up for
her, “Please come inside and your father will explain
everything.”

She looked at the warm blanket and the very old
man holding it. She looked, realizing she had been to the courtyard
surrounding her. She knew where she was.

“I hurt myself?” Still hazy she asked
softly.

He nodded raising his eyebrows, “Your answers
are inside.”

She looked to her right at the large manor house
her father had recently brought her to. She had loved it, making
small fantasies in her mind about growing up there. She imagined a
childhood in the old Tudor home with a tire swing out back. She
imagined her father hugging her and letting her into his life. It
could have been their home if he had let it. She closed herself off
from the imaginations of a hopeful lost little girl. Instead she
welcomed back the snarky comments of a bitter and twisted young
woman. She climbed from the trunk on shaky legs taking his
weathered soft hand and allowed him to cover her mostly naked body
in the warm fleecy blanket. She wrapped herself completely and
winced. Walking on the gravel hurt her feet. She stepped gingerly,
trying to find the path of least resistance.

“Who are you?” She asked not looking back at
him, still nervous enough to not want a silence surrounding
them.

“I am your family's man.”

She played with the words in her mind. The word
'man' struck her as odd. She had questions but decided they should
wait for her father.

The front of the huge home was a magnificent
wooden double door with carvings of an old forest scene. The
handles were golden colored, although she wouldn’t be surprised if
they truly were gold. Her father was odd in a way only rich people
were allowed to be. Gold door handles would be one of the lesser
weird moments for her.

The older man opened the door standing rigidly
waiting for her to enter. She walked through the threshold slowly,
still worried about how she had landed in a trunk with nearly
nothing on.

She followed beside him, silently along the hard
stone floors. Her father had a thing for granite. She followed him
to a back room she had not seen before. Inside was a four-poster
bed with extravagances all around it. The furniture was dark cherry
wood, suiting the Tudor home perfectly.

She looked at the figure on the huge bed,
squinting to see his face in the muted lighting.

A weak looking discolored individual she had
never seen before lay on the huge bed. Suddenly she realized it was
her father. The sickly looking version of him had replaced the
robust handsome man.

“Father?”

He turned his eyes to her, looking further
disheartened, “Hanna, oh thank god you found her Roland.” He spoke
breathlessly. It was as if he struggled to breath.

“I did Sir and I will leave you two now unless
you need something further?”

Her father waved a sickly looking thin hand, “No
please go and rest old man.”

Roland chuckled bitterly, “Old am I? Then you
Sir are ancient.” He bowed and left the room silently.

Hanna walked to her father and sat in the huge
wooden rocking chair at his bedside. She felt concern cross her
face and struggled to look as if she didn’t care.

His dark eyes glossed over, “I-I-I am s-s-so
s-s-sorry Hanna.” His wrinkled face trembled. She noticed how much
he had aged in the few short months since her last visit.

He smiled weakly, looking humble and cleared his
throat. He seemed to be fighting himself to gain his composure.

“I have betrayed you in every way.”

She frowned not speaking, terrified to ruin a
moment she had waited her whole life for.

“I don’t even have enough time now to explain
the entirety of the situation to you.” His voice grew grainy. He
cleared his throat again.

"How are you this sick?" She couldn’t believe
how old and haggard he looked.

“I am a monster, there is no denying it. You
were an accident, as was your mother. Both accidents along the
highway of my life and instead of stopping to help, I left you
there stranded. I never knew how to fix any of it. I've tried to
find a cure Hanna, I really have.” His eyes watered, Hanna watched
as he began to cry. She felt distraught, not only for being called
an accident but that he had waited until his last moments to reach
out to her. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t told her was ill.

“I left you with them as your mother asked me
to. She thought she knew them, we both thought we knew them. Now I
see, I see what they are. Of course now it is too late.” He coughed
as if the liquid making his voice grainy were drowning him inside,
“You’ll need this, it's your only hope.” He passed her a sheet of
paper with markings across it. It looked like math and diagrams.
She frowned wondering if he had seen her final grades, or how bad
she had done.

His hand gripped hers as his eyes changed into a
madman's, he gasped, “Trust no one but Roland, he has been with me
for a long time. You need to get away from those people, your aunt
and uncle. I have loved you always.” He exhaled softly and closed
his eyes. “Tell her to come in.”

Hanna frowned, “Who?”

“The girl in the hall, I’m ready.”

She hesitantly rose, “I don’t understand, you’re
speaking cryptically to me, you’re not explaining anything and I’m
scared, I'm half naked.” She sighed realizing she was shouting, “I
just don’t understand what is happening. I can't believe I'm
standing in front of you with my clothes all ripped and all you can
talk about is yourself. Nothing changes with you. ”

He shook his head still closing his eyes,
shutting her out, “I don’t have any time left Hanna. She is being
gracious allowing me a moment with you.” His eyes opened filled
with regret, “I only wanted you to know that Roland is your only
hope and that I loved you everyday. Everything else will be
explained when I am gone. Your life is going to change Hanna and
for that I am truly sorry. Please hurry I can't hold it.” The
desperation in his voice frightened her.