Wrecked (2 page)

My beating heart, the one that I knew was perfectly synced with Xavi’s, felt as if it had been ripped from my body and constricted in a vice. This was quite possibly my last moment on earth, and my last conscious thought was that my children would have to watch as both of their parents died on some random roadside. No friends, no relatives, no one to protect them--to love them like my husband and I loved them.

Lord, I know you have a reason for everything. I have accepted everything you have thrown my way, and I don’t ask for me, but for my children. Please Lord, let them live to find loving relationships like the one I had with Xavi. Thank you for the blessings you’ve given me, and if it’s your will for me to join my sister, so be it. Just please, let my babies be okay. Amen.

Time froze, or it passed; I wasn’t sure, but as my wrecked body lay on the soil, I entered a state of disorientation. I was unaware of anything other than the pain that ripped through my broken body. Faintly, through the ringing in my ears, I became conscious of someone speaking. Was it God or an angel? Was it my time to go? I couldn’t be sure. I just wanted the pain to stop.

“Ma’am! Ma’am! Can you move?”

I struggled to open my eyes, and once I was able to focus, I found myself peering up into the clear blue eyes of a young man with a strange accent. He stood over me, pale as the fog that surrounded him, wearing strange clothing. I thought I had answered him, but judging by the look on his face, obviously I hadn’t.

“ Ma’am, my name is Chris, and I would like to pray for you and your family.” He clasped my hand in his and began to pray. The language he spoke was foreign to me, but the words were almost peaceful. Truthfully, I couldn’t register the prayer itself, but the fact that this stranger was praying for me confirmed that I was indeed in my last moments.

“Ma’am, my sister went to get help but…” he suddenly stopped speaking, and I heard the patter of small feet rushing toward us. I could see my children!

“Mommy!” they cried.

Chris warned them not to touch me because I was hurt.

“Is she going to die, too?” Mylie asked quietly, as she sniffed; Nikolas was sobbing. I watched them as they tightly hugged one another.

I struggled to whisper, “I love…I love you both, so much. Don’t cry, Mommy will watch over you always.” The world around me began to fade away. I heard the wailing of my children and then there was silence.

Chapter One

Mylie

Every step brings us closer.

I woke up in a cold sweat, and looked around my room only to realize that it was just a nightmare, another horrific memory of the night my parents died. This dream felt different, completely unlike the others. Instead of reliving the night through my own eyes, I was my mom in this dream. It felt as though I had just lived through her experience.

It had been fifteen years since my parents died and a kind stranger rescued my brother and me, but the dreams had never gotten any less vivid. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, I saw that there was still an hour left before my alarm would go off. Anxious to shake off the remnants of the nightmare, I jumped out of bed and headed towards the walk-in closet in my room of our old Victorian home
.

Truth was, the only reason we had ended up in Pointe Hope was because my grandparents bought this house after my mom and dad died. My grandparents did the best they could for us, but when they retired five years after the accident. Nikolas and I knew that Phoenix would never be the home Mom and Dad wanted for us.

Leaving my closet, I slipped on my tracksuit and stumbled when my sneaker was caught in the pant leg causing me to fall on to the floor, roughly hitting my head against my dresser. I hissed in pain as I rubbed my head and silently prayed that I didn’t wake my brother. I pulled myself up using the dresser as leverage but stopped midway when I saw my reflection in the mirror. Helpless, I stared, but I felt defeated as I peered into my blue eyes. Often my eyes had been compared to the ocean, but now they looked dull. To make matters worse, my restless night was evident as shadows emerged underneath my now lackluster eyes. Overall, I immediately realized that my dream had left me flushed and nervous. I shook my head of the memories that had flooded my mind and snatched up my hairbrush. As I swiftly yanked it through my caramel hair into a high ponytail, I was anxious to escape my suffocating room. I hastily grabbed my mp3 player from its dock and attempted to quietly slip out of the house so I wouldn’t wake Nikolas.

The town of Pointe Hope was just like any other town, at least as far as the nosey neighbors and gossiping housewives go. One hybrid of the two was Mrs. J.J. Pierson. The older woman was invested in my love life
,
or more accurately, the lack thereof. She had tried to set me up with nearly every eligible bachelor Pointe Hope had to offer. Although I’d never admit it to her, I needed all of the help I could get. It wasn’t like I didn’t try, but there was never a spark or the potential for the incredible devotion I saw my parents had with one another. Mrs. J.J. Pierson was a sucker for romance and admired the fact that I was waiting for true love. Yet, at twenty-three years old, I suspected she had envisioned that I would have fallen in love by now. I could give in and be like many women who had good and bad times with Mr. Not Right Enough, but it would go against the grain of who I was and what I truly felt.

I believed being in love wasn’t about sunshine and daisies, but that love allowed someone to find the person who complemented them best. It was through the trials and tribulations of life that people discovered their weaknesses, strengths, and depended on each other to be entirely whole. The theory sounded right, and since I grew up with the memory of such great role models, I believed that true love was possible.

I slipped in my ear buds and cranked up Muse’s “Uprising” as my feet pounded on the asphalt. With each step, I gradually lost myself in the rhythm of music and the beat of my heart. The two were synchronized in a beautiful dance, and I was the star. I ran along the river behind our home within the forest. It was dense, and the new fall air had turned the leaves brilliant shades of gold, amber, and red. There was a mist that coated the ground, and as my heart pumped with each step, I felt one with the forest.

Every day Nikolas and I would run the trails, and we’d get lost in a place where our past was not a factor in our present. I’d imagine a place where we were content with our lives, but our reality was never like that. Whereas I waited for Mr. Right, Nikolas was happy being Mr. Not Right Enough. He was a sorority girl’s plaything, and he loved every minute of it. I was tired of seeing my brother with those tramps, and he knew it. He made sure to make himself scarce most days and stayed at his frat house whenever he could. Last night he came home around three in the morning, which undoubtedly meant there was yet another girl he had left behind in a tangle of sheets.

I was lost in my own world and not paying attention to anything but the rhythm of the music, when I saw a helpless animal struggling to free itself from the confines of a snare. I detested the people who left those things out to capture poor defenseless animals. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a beautiful ebony rabbit that was twitching in fear.

“Hey little guy,” I cooed while walking as quietly as I could through the brush.

I reached down and carefully tried to untangle the little creature. I didn’t have a knife, so I couldn’t cut him free. I scanned the area for a jagged rock. The scene brought back memories of the time my troop leader yelled at me because, instead of earning my snare badge, I had shooed away the animals. Needless to say, I had been kicked out of the troop. Then in my freshman year, at Pointe Hope Prep, I protested in my biology class when it came to dissecting animals. I had convinced the entire cheerleading squad, who then swayed half of the student body, that dissecting frogs was gross and would give them warts. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I knew then I wanted to be an advocate for the underdog. So, I set my goals on becoming a lawyer.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” a gruff voice yelled from behind me and sent fear shooting through me.

I fought to get the snare off and anxiously watched a scraggly older man rush towards me. I was terrified of what he might do, but the snare finally ripped out of the ground, and the rabbit scampered away with it still attached to its leg. Before I could look back to see where the older man had gone off to, my head was wrenched backwards, my breath catching as excruciating pain radiated from my sensitive scalp. The man had wrapped a handful of my long light brown hair around one of his hands. He pulled my face toward his, his fetid breath and foul body odor making my stomach heave. It was in that moment that I feared what appeared to be my impending death, but my choice was clear—I had to fight! “You made me lose my dinner, little girl,” he snarled.

“HELP!” I screamed as loud as I could, praying someone would hear me.

He quickly covered my mouth with one of his filthy hands. Once he was sure I wouldn’t make any further noises, he ran his tongue down my cheek. I could handle the grime on his hands, but once I felt the bulge of his erection pressed into my side, revulsion filled me, and I wanted nothing more than to shrink away. My stomach was tied in knots from fear. Pure. Unadulterated. Terror. I thought was going to die.

No! This couldn’t be happening
.

I decided that I wasn’t going to make it easy for the son of a bitch.

“Get the fuck off me!” I growled while trying to fight him off of me.

“Not so fast little girl. Since I can’t have dinner, I’ll skip to dessert,” he whispered in my ear.

All I could think was,
no dear God, death would be better than this man touching me.

I brought my knee forward and attempted to kick him in the groin, but it was a feeble attempt. I tried to punch him in the throat and fight with all I had, but he quickly deflected and grabbed my fist. He outweighed by nearly a hundred pounds. He finally took hold of my tracksuit and ripped it opened, exposing me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get him off me! He was tugging my pants down with one hand, while using the other to pin my hands down over my head.

I wiggled one wrist and was able to free my hand from his grasp. I struck out at him; my nails collided with his face leaving three jagged, bloody lines running from the corner of his eye to the bridge of his crooked nose. His black eyes glared furiously, and I cringed inwardly, realizing that my actions had only served to increase his fury.

Dear Lord, help me.

I heard a loud crack and braced myself for the inevitable, but instead, I gasped as his dead weight dropped on top of me. My eyes were wide with fear, and I tried to wrestle myself free by rolling him off.

What happened?

All at once, the weight was lifted, and I watched as the grimy piece of shit’s body thumped hard against the ground. I quickly surveyed my surroundings and saw my rescuer. A man stood before me. Our eyes connected for a moment, but then he remembered himself and tightly shut his eyes. He cleared his throat nervously but refused to open his eyes as he held out a parka in front of him.

Although I was frightened, it wasn’t enough for me to ignore the man before me. I immediately noticed the coarse hair of his five o’clock shadow. He had a well-defined jaw with full, perfectly proportioned lips. The narrow bridge of his nose tapered to a rounded tip. A profusion of long, curly lashes were paired with a set of perfectly shaped brows. Yet it was beneath his closed eyes that captured all of my attention. His skin was bronze, contrasted beneath a white t-shirt. He had broad shoulders and defined arms that communicated strength without being too muscular. He was breathtaking.

“Are you going to cover up?” His voice was slightly roughened but with a smooth timbre.

I felt the heat rush to my face. Embarrassed, I snatched the parka from his outstretched hand and put it on, clumsily fighting with the extra-long sleeves. Glancing up, I realized that he was much taller than I, topping out at more than six feet.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

A sob escaped my throat at the same time a solitary tear streaked down my cheek. I curled into myself and wrapped my arms around my body. I closed my eyes and prayed to the Lord, thanking Him for allowing this gorgeous Adonis of a man to come to my rescue.

“Didn’t your daddy ever teach you the buddy system?” he snidely asked through gritted teeth. He was tying up my assaulter, who was obviously a vagabond. He wore multiple layers of clothing and a pair of shoes that had been taped up with duct tape. His body odor carried on the breeze, and it literally made bile rise to the back of my throat.
Good Lord, that man could have raped me!
I need to jump into a hot bath and scrub the filth off my skin! First, I needed to deal with Mr. Attitude.

“You have no right!” I felt the lump in my throat growing but fought through it. “My parents died when I was eight years old for your information, so no he didn’t. I hope that answers your question, jackass!” I got up, and once I was sure I was steady on my feet, I took off toward home. I heard footfalls behind as his hand wrapped around my upper arm like a vice

“You can’t leave! Not until the police get here and file your statement so this asshole can go to jail!” The nerve of the man. He didn’t even acknowledge what I had said; he just kept barking orders at me!

“As far as I can tell, there is only one asshole here, and he isn’t the one who’s going to jail.” I glared at him and stalked off towards the river.
How could someone be so callus and not care about someone’s feelings?
I cried silently because right now, more than anything in the world, I did wish my dad had taught me the buddy system. Maybe I wouldn’t have been attacked, and maybe I wouldn’t have crossed paths with the jerk—the man who finally ignited that dormant spark inside of me.