Ruin
Authors: Clarissa Wild
RUIN
By Clarissa Wild
RUIN © 2016 Clarissa Wild
Cover art by
Clarissa Wild’s Booming Covers
Copy Editing by
Editing4Indies
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or person, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters in this book are eighteen years of age or older.
License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook 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, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
More books by Clarissa Wild
Standalones
Dark Romance
Stalker
&
Killer (prequel to Stalker)
New Adult Romance
Erotic Romance
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Table of Contents
These Bones Were Made for Walking
“Forests” by Duologue
“I Found” by Amber Run
“I’ll be Good” by Jaymes Young
“The Departure” by Max Richter
“Autumn Love” by Thomas Bergersen
“Stay” by Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko
“Broken Things” by Clairity
“Pruit Igoe and Prophecies” by Phillip Glass
“Apologize” by Timbaland ft. OneRepublic
“Give It All” by Foals
“No Rest For The Wicked” by Lykke Li
“To The Wonder” by Aqualung ft. Kina Grannis
“Runnin’ (Lose It All)” by Naughty Boy ft. Beyoncé & Arrow Benjamin
“Lights Down Low” by MAX
To Sander.
You asked me not to dedicate this to you, so I won’t.
;)
To you,
This is the hardest book I’ve ever written.
It’s not easy to read, and it wasn’t meant to be.
It’s raw. It’s uncensored. It’s reality … but it’s also fiction.
This book is not like any of my other books, as its focus lies on intense emotions and not so much on the sex. If this isn’t your sort of thing, please don’t read.
If you want your stories to be showered with hot sex and alpha males, then please don’t read.
But if you’re ready to experience a life-changing story based on true events, then please continue.
… I promise the fall will come with a soft landing in the clouds.
This book is based on a true story. Whose story is this and what’s real, you might ask?
You can find out at the end of this book.
Alexander
Maybell Fairweather was the girl of my dreams.
Always smiling brightly, she kept going, despite the names her classmates called her behind her back.
She was full of curiosity and independence, the extent of which I could only be jealous of. Even though she had all odds stacked against her, she knew what she wanted from life and pursued it, no matter the cost.
She was completely my opposite in every way.
Perfect, even though she couldn’t see it.
Perfect … until me.
Because this is the story of how I ruined her.
Maybell
Always look forward, never look back.
One foot in front of the other.
To the rhythm of the music, I slide across the floor as graceful as I can. Sweat drips down my forehead and pain shoots through my legs, but my smile remains.
I dance without stopping.
I dance as if my life depends on it.
Because it does.
When the music stops, I strike my final pose and wait. No applause. No voices. No sounds. Just silence. But in my head, it’s loud … loud and clear.
Finally, it’s over.
I breathe. Pain zaps through me like lightning, but I ignore it. Now is not the time to crumple. Not yet.
My eyes lift up to meet the judges, but their eyes give away nothing. I nod and say thank you then leave the room.
Another breath escapes my mouth, and when I reach the dressing room, I collapse on the seat. It’s over. It’s finally over. The dance of my life. The dance that decides everything … whether I end up in the group, if I become a full-time professional dancer, if I’ll have to keep doing this for the rest of my life …
Just the thought of it gives me shivers, but they don’t feel like the good kind.
I grab a towel and wipe the sweat off my forehead. For some reason, I can’t shake this fear creeping into my heart. Almost as if it pounds harder now than it did during the dance. I’m scared that I didn’t perform well enough, even though I did my very best. Every step, every turn—every movement was perfect in my eyes. I outshined myself today. I’m proud of myself, no matter the outcome of this test.
I take another deep breath and take off my shoes, freeing my buzzing feet. Every time I take these off, it’s a blessing. Everything hurts and every time I feel it, I wonder why I put myself through this. But then I remember why … the look on my mom’s face when she sees me succeed. The proud conversations my dad has with his co-workers when he tells them I’m a dancer. How they always cheer me on and tell me that I can do this.
They were the ones who put me in dance class all those years ago. Who kept pushing me to dance, even when I was ready to give up. They never gave up on me … but now, I’m not sure I didn’t want them to.
Frowning, I pick up my cell phone and stare at the messages on my screen. They’re all from Mom.
Any news yet? How did it go? Keep me updated, ‘kay?
She’s so worried and always concerned with my career, but then I wonder … why isn’t she here? Even though I already know the answer to that. Work.
My dad’s the same. He’s tried to call me several times today, but it was never at a time when I could actually pick up … or when I even wanted to. I really couldn’t use his motivational speeches right before my audition, but I think he understands. He has to.
Somehow, not having them here to support me makes me squish my phone in my hand. I shake off the feeling and sigh as I look at the clock. Only thirty minutes to go before the call is made.
Enough time to take a shower and shit my pants.
***
Thirty minutes later
Not selected.
The two words reverberate in my head as I stare at the sheet in front of me. It trembles in my hand. I’m frozen in place as I let the news sink in.
I’m not selected.
This was it.
My whole career depended on this dance.
The
dance. The one dance I was working toward my whole life.
And I failed.
I grab my cell phone and call my mom.
“Hi, honey! How did it go?” she yells.
“I didn’t make it.”
She gasps out loud. “What? Oh, no! I’m so sorry, honey. It’s all right. You did your best, right?”
“I danced harder than ever before,” I say. “But it wasn’t enough.”
“But you can’t do more than your best. Besides, you can try again next year.”
Just the fact that she mentions next year already makes me swallow away a lump in my throat. “I don’t know about that, Mom …”
“Oh, honey, there’s no need to feel sad. It happens. Not everything is successful the first time you try. But you can always try again. Just keep doing what you’re doing and always strive for the best.”
“No, I mean about the part about trying out again. I’m not really feeling it.”
“What? No, c’mon, this is what you’ve been working toward your entire life.”
I sigh. I want to tell her that isn’t true. It’s not me who’s been working toward this my entire life … it’s her. She pushes me to continue every time I threaten to quit. But I don’t want to think about it … not now.
“Mom, I really don’t wanna talk about this right now.”
“I understand you’re upset, honey, and that’s perfectly fine. I’ll come to your place tonight, and then we’ll talk about it, okay? You can tell me all about today. It’ll be all right. One day, you’ll make it.” She ends the conversation on a high note and immediately hangs up afterward. It’s almost as if she’s afraid to hear my reaction. I can’t blame her.