Touched By You (The Touch Series) (32 page)

A Thousand Years by Christina Perri

Just Give Me A Reason by P!nk featuring Nate Ruess

Need You Know by Lady Antebellum

U Got It Bad by Usher

Heaven Sent by Keisha Cole

True Love by P!nk featuring Lily Allen

Not Over You by Gavin DeGraw

Marry Me by Train

Talking To The Moon by Bruno Mars

Lucky by Jason Mraz featuring Colbie Caillat

Touch Me August 31, 2013

Touched By You October 31, 2013

Touched By Another December 31, 2013

You’ve Been Touched January 31, 2014

Pierced Love November 30, 2013

The Cursed Series Spring 2014

t. h.snyder
is my pen name.

I am a 34 year old wife of ten years and mother to our two amazing kids.

I became an avid reader in spring of 2012 and since have read over 250 books.

My genre of interest ranges from Romance to thrilling Paranormal.

This is more than just a hobby for me, it’s a passion to read the words of great authors and bring life to their stories with my reviews and character castings.

I started writing my first novel in June of 2013 and I am anxious to see where this journey takes me!!

You can continue to show your support by liking and following me on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-t-h-snyder/1391579264389587

https://twitter.com/thsnyder4

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18136883-touch-me

Atlanta, Georgia

I cower in the corner by the shower stall letting my eyes roam over the mildew and rust stains from the shaving cream can. Tears blur my vision, so they're difficult to make out, but I know the stains that never come off no matter how hard I scrub. I wipe my lip and see the bright red blood covering my finger tips and know I’ll need to come up with an excuse for my classmates. However, right now I’m too concerned for my unborn son to worry about them and their judgment.

My shaky hand caresses my large stomach. “Shh. Mommy will protect you. I promise.” Butterfly flutters start up as Brian kicks me from within, and I try to calm myself down. I’m not sure if his emotions match my own, but if they do I don’t want him to be scared.

“Trudy? Get the hell out here and clean this shit up now
or I’ll drag your ass out myself.” Brad’s voice is full of anger as he bangs on the door. Even though it was replaced three weeks ago, it’s already loose around the frame. I know it won’t take much more force from him for it to bust open.

I slowly rise and take a steadying breath while I unlock the door. I know from past experience it’s best to follow his orders. A slap here and there is nothing compared to his fist.

I’m sure people think I’m stupid for sticking around, but when you grow up in foster care, rarely having anyone show you concern or pay attention to you, you hold on to it when it comes along. The only foster parent that showed me any affection was Ms. Freeman.

I was with her from eight years old to when she passed away, after my fourteenth birthday. She was the one who showed me how to do my makeup and taught me how to be a woman. She always used the money from the state to buy me things I wanted or needed instead of using it for her own wants. She even enrolled me in dance camp during the summers I was with her, and even though it’s something I rarely do anymore, I still love it. She talked about adopting me but never had the chance. She was killed by a drunk driver one night on the way to the last dance recital I ever participated in.

Unfortunately, the next person to show me any affection was Brad Foster. He wasn’t always mean and abusive. I wouldn’t have looked his way if I knew I would be scared of making him angry every day. I had met him a few months before my eighteenth birthday while he was hanging out at my school with some of the jocks. I didn’t notice at the time he was into drugs. I finally figured it out after I moved in with him. Brad had seen me crying one day at school, and when I told him that I was kicked out of the system and needed to find a place to live, he offered me his couch.

If I could have changed my decision, I don’t think I would because I wouldn’t have this miracle growing inside me.

I crack the door open and glance out. Brad is standing there, his face beet red, and staring at me with cold, grey eyes filled with disdain as he takes in my face. I’m sure it’s red and starting to swell. He yanks on the door to open it and then pulls me out by my hair and tosses me on the couch. I protectively clutch my abdomen and roll on my side with my back facing his hateful gaze. “Now that you’re not being so lazy, clean this place up and make dinner before Tony gets here with his girl.”

I hear the door slam and frantically look around as the clanking of the noisy water heater starts. I exhale and begin to compose myself, knowing I only have a few minutes while he’s in the shower. I look around and see some broken dishes on the floor, so I carefully get on my knees and start picking them up. The old, plaid recliner is tipped over from when I was thrown out of it earlier. I strain to lift it and feel a sharp pain in my pelvic area. My breath hitches and I take slow breaths before I try again and succeed.

I head to our small kitchen and start a simple dinner of Hamburger Helper. I hope this will be good enough for Brad. Lately, nothing is and it’s just getting worse. I know I’ve got to be strong for the baby until I can come up with a plan to get out. I don’t want my child growing up with abuse in his life.

I haven’t told Brad but I received a letter from the University of South Alabama in Mobile for a full scholarship, and I want to do it. I haven’t made up my mind yet since I’m due in six weeks. I have nobody to help besides Brad and that’s very little. Tomorrow, I plan on calling Marjorie Malone, the student counselor, and tell her my situation. I have to be discreet when I do it so Brad won’t find out.

I’ve always enjoyed school, and I’m determined to make something of myself, more so now that I’m pregnant. I still need to continue my straight A average, even with the added AP classes on my schedule from this semester. Brad thinks it’s stupid to continue and is also against any type of college. That’s the main reason he didn’t bug me about getting an abortion when I found out I was pregnant. He believes I won’t want to go to college if I have a baby. He’s wrong though.

I stand in the kitchen boiling water and trying to maneuver without getting burned. It’s such a tiny space that two people can hardly stand in here together, but it serves its purpose. Then I hear a banging on the door and cringe because I know it’s Tony and Jessica. They always come to snort and smoke with Brad, but I also know Tony has other reasons for coming over. The way he looks at me is a sickening reminder of the past. I know Brad will get so high he’ll let Tony loose on me. It wouldn’t be the first time, and unless I leave, it won’t be the last. “Tomorrow,” I remind myself. I’ll hopefully have a plan by then because I can’t stay here much longer.

I unlock the door and I’m suddenly pushed to the side by Jessica. She struts in wearing her six inch stilettos, short black shorts, and hot pink tank top like she owns the place. Her unnaturally bright red hair is down and reaches her shoulders. It’s straight as a board, unlike my own.

My hair has never been colored and is a dark brown with natural red highlights. Big curls I can’t seem to control fall down my back to my bra strap, and it’s horrible with humidity. We’re around the same height of five foot six when she’s barefoot, but she’s skin and bones from the drugs while I try to maintain an athletic build from dancing and running, until my unexpected pregnancy.

I watch as her glassy brown eyes look around for Brad. I know she’s wanted him since they met a few months ago, and honestly I don’t care. When I leave she can have him and his bad habits. Breath tickles my neck and the sick smell of beer and cigarettes engulfs me as Tony stands behind me.