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PROLOGUE
DEVYN
We all have our secrets. You have yours; I have mine. I wish I could tell my secret to someone, anyone, but I can’t. Even if I did, there’s no way anyone would ever believe me. With his money and power, my step-father can buy his way out of most anything.
When you’re rich and powerful, that’s how it works in the world. Charges disappear, legal records are kept pristine, and sins are buried in the deepest darkest corners, daring anyone ever to try to reveal them. It would come down to his word against mine. No one in this town will ever believe an orphaned teenage girl over a dignified Supreme Court Judge. In the end, I’d pay dearly for embarrassing him. Everyone else would shake their heads and think I was a disturbed girl, acting out because she’d just lost her mother.
Ever since she died six months ago, he’s visited my room almost every night demanding my gratitude. Over and over, I’ve begged and pleaded with him just to let me go, but it’s too late. I’ve become his possession. I’m trapped here, doomed to meet a destined and destructive fate.
I just wish I had a friend, someone to believe me…to stop all of this. But, more than anything, I want to make him pay for what he’s done. I simply can’t go on living this way anymore. He’s already destroyed every part of me. I’m forever ruined.
Shhhh… Listen.
Oh, God! He’s coming. Please, someone help me!
Chapter One
CHAPTER ONE
DEVYN
Every little girl has her own hopes and dreams. Each should have their precious innocence to hold on to and above everything, deserves to feel safe, special, and loved. Unfortunately, thanks to my sorry excuse for a mother, I never got the opportunity for any of that. Because of her, I had no choice but to grow up entirely too quickly. The disgusting places and vile things she’d subjected me to are too disgraceful and embarrassing for me to even mention. Let’s just say that, by the age of five, I’d heard and seen things that no child should ever have to witness.
Most would say that, given the circumstances, my mother had done the best she could raising me. She was only seventeen when she had me, a kid still herself. Being a runaway orphan should’ve made her want to give me up, but I was her meal ticket, a security blanket of sorts.
Growing up, I watched her lie and cheat her way through life, making me the scapegoat whenever she got caught. Always the quick thinker, my mother was adequately prepared with some elaborate sob story. As if the world were her stage, she pulled out all the stops, even crying on a moment’s notice when the situation called for it. Her skillful acting was so convincing that she could’ve easily beaten any Hollywood actress for an Academy Award.
Just one look into her tear-filled eyes and people were putty in her hands. Store owners would listen sympathetically to her heart-wrenching story and never p
ress charges. One would think that after a few close calls, she’d learn her lesson, but it never stopped her from repeating the same mistakes, over and over again.
Whenever my mother did hold down a job, it was mostly at some hole-in-the ground bar or trashy nightclub. Even though she made decent money in tips, it never made it home. Employment, at those places, only seemed to make her drug habit worse. It was like waving candy in front of a kid. Popping pills and doing a line of blow gave her a welcome escape to her immensely troubled life.
It wasn’t long that her relentless cravings came at a higher price than she could afford. There were so many times my mother would end up owing some dealer for drugs that she couldn’t pay for. Without warning, they’d come to our place at all hours of the night, demanding payment in full.
Since she never had the money to pay what she owed them, it was either beaten or fucked out of her, often both at the same time. Even as a little girl, I’d walked in on her giving blowjobs or bent over the kitchen table more times than I can count. Some of the sick fuckers even tried to bargain her debt in exchange for time with me. Although my mother never agreed to it, she certainly didn’t stop them from subjecting me to their crude remarks or perverted touches. In complete disregard to me, she allowed them to dance dangerously close to a line that never should be crossed. Thinking back now, I believe those were the moments I began hating her.
For most of my life, I bounced from place to place, rarely calling anywhere a home for very long. School was the only thing I had to look forward to. With our constant displacement, enrolling me in a new place became too much of a hassle for my mother to deal with. It completely broke my heart to stop attending. Luckily, the library soon became my new best friend, opening up a world of learning that I couldn’t get enough of. Where drugs and fucking men were her ultimate escape, absorbing a physics, or history textbook was mine. My mother hated how much time I spent reading. She thought it was pointless, even going so far as to tell me I’d get by much farther on my looks. Even though I inherited most of her physical features, I was determined to make something out of myself. Whatever the outcome, I refused to become like her.
Unlike most girls my age, I didn’t have many belongings or clothes. Everything I had in the world fit in a small bag. It had to. Sneaking out at night, with only a duffle bag in hand, became my normal routine. When you can’t pay your rent or a crazed drug dealer, you run. Town to town, we’d flee into the night with no destination in mind. She looked at life as a constant adventure, never worrying about a thing. Just like a cat, she always landed on her feet.
“It’ll all work out kid, don’t sweat it.”
Part of me always envied her for not worrying. I would have given anything to be that carefree, but I couldn’t be. Someone had to be the level-headed, responsible one. Not a single day went by that I didn’t want to run away and leave her to deal with all of her shit on her own. It wasn’t fair to make me live that way. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to be a kid, but I’d spent too much time having to be the adult, to ever know how to be anything else.
Time and time again, my mother would clean up her act, only to fall back into the ruthless habits that were destined to destroy her. When I turned seventeen, she managed to land a job in the bar of The Drake Hotel, in Chicago. For a while, everything seemed to be finally looking up for us. That is, until Broderick Masterson entered the picture. He’d been staying in the hotel while working on an important legal case. Like all the other men who laid eyes on her, he’d become instantly infatuated.
It wasn’t surprising. Calling my mother beautiful was an understatement. No matter how she was dressed, she turned heads everywhere she went. Men flocked to her like starving vultures. She could have easily had any guy she wanted, but always seem to fall for the wrong ones. Whenever she got serious with someone, she never mentioned me. It was inevitable that once they saw I was part of the picture, they would bail on her.
Since my mother never kept a man around for long, I wasn’t at all interested in meeting Broderick. Regardless of how I felt, he kept insisting, with my mother that we formally meet. I thought he’d eventually back off, but instead, I seemed to have become a challenge to him. Determined to win my approval, he made arrangements to enroll me in one of the most prestigious private schools in Chicago. Thrilled at the fantastic opportunity he had given me, I finally gave in and agreed to meet him. His generosity and interest in my education had convinced me that he was different from all the other men my mother had dated. However, that opinion soon changed the instant we met.
From the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew something wasn’t right. Even through his devastatingly handsome face and devilish grin, I could see the evil that lurked inside of him. The immense darkness in his eyes made my blood run cold. Looking him in the eyes was like staring straight into a demon. The fearful way my body reacted to him only seemed to amuse him, earning me sly, satisfied grins every time we were around each other.
Just when I hoped they wouldn’t last, their whirlwind romance led to a shocking marriage proposal. Over and over, I pleaded with my mother to not rush into things. After all, they’d barely known each other a month. But, despite my efforts, there was no way I could convince her to change her mind. My mother only saw her handsome Prince Charming. I, however, saw the sadistic devil that wanted far more than my soul.
After they were married, it didn’t take long for Broderick’s true colors to show. For the most part, I steered clear of them as much as possible, but there is only so much you can do when you have nowhere else to go. His sexual advances grew bolder by the day, many of them happening right underneath my mother’s nose. Deep down inside of me, I knew something very bad was coming. I was desperate for my mother to do something, anything, but she was too blinded by Broderick, and the life he provided, to believe me.
“Stop lying, Devyn. You’re just jealous of what I finally have. Don’t worry, with your face and figure, the boys will be crawling at your feet.”
Why didn’t she listen? I was her daughter, for fuck sake! She could have stopped him before it was too late, but she didn’t. And, for that, I will never forgive her.
Death.
I find myself wishing for it more and more every single day. I wish, for a bus to hit me, for lightning to strike me, for my heart to simply stop beating on its own. Maybe that seems ungrateful to most, but why on earth would I want to continue living in this miserable world? From the day I was born, I’d been a mistake. I’m taking up wasted space, in a world I was never meant to be a part of.
With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, dying is the only way out of the hell I’m forced to live. As I stare down at the handful of white pills, I think back to the countless times I’ve stood in this exact same spot, trying to muster up the courage to just end it. Today feels different. Today may be the day that I prove to myself that I’m brave enough to actually go through with it.
Glancing up into the mirror, I stare back into my empty eyes, the dull brown ones that have never been that spectacular to look at. I closely study the bright red blood as it gradually drips from the cut above my right eye. Mesmerized by the slow movement, I follow its long trail down my bruised cheek and on into my mouth, cringing when the familiar metallic taste finally reaches my tongue.
After the brutal beating I’ve just taken, I shouldn’t even be able to breathe, let alone stand. To be honest, I don’t know where I find the strength anymore. I no longer feel, nor care, yet my body just keeps on taking whatever he throws at it. The Devyn on the outside is still battling the war, but the Devyn on the inside gave up and surrendered a long time ago.
I’m so tired of fighting, so tired of holding on. I just want to end it.
Well? What are you waiting for, then? Do it!
Reaching over, I grab the clear glass from beside my sink and begin filling it with water. My firm grip tightens on the pills, still resting in my left hand. Pills are the only things my worthless mother had left me. The
re’s practically an entire pharmacy displayed in the medicine cabinet of her upstairs bathroom. Vicodin, Valium, Demerol, you can take your pick. The list of choices is truly endless. If she wasn’t out spending Broderick’s money, she was strung out on these medications; medications given to her by doctors who will do anything for the right price. Deep down, I always thought, one day, I’d find her overdosed in her bed, but her fate would take a much stranger twist.
On a sunny afternoon, my mother left the house, excited to show off her new designer dress at a very important social event in the city. Unfortunately, the only ones, other than me, to see the dress were the paramedics working the scene of the horrific wreck. The authorities concluded that it was an accident, but I’d known the truth. Brakes, on a brand new car, just don’t fail to work. Through his fake mourning, I’d seen the revolting twinkle in his eye. This had been his deranged plan all along. Ironically, the man my mother thought had saved her, was the very one who ended her.
With a trembling hand, I close my eyes and shove the mixture of pills into my mouth. Turning back the glass of water, I hold the contents in the side of my jaw, cringing as the bitter taste of the dissolving tablets reaches my tongue.
Swallow. End it! What the hell are you waiting for?
