Translucent (32 page)

“I’m okay. I’m not going anywhere. It just caught me off-guard, and it explains the dirty looks she’s always giving me.”

“She means nothing to me.” He rests his forehead against mine, our eyes drowning in each other’s heated looks. “You—you mean everything. I’m in lo—”

I cut him off by slamming my lips onto his. That’s not what I want to hear right now.

Not like this.

Our make out session is soon interrupted by a knock on the door, and when we realize there’s no way for us both to leave without it appearing like we were sneaking off for a quickie, we both get the giggles. Thankfully, it’s one of Madden’s guy friends waiting on the other side of the door when we exit, who starts laughing and gives him a fist bump as we walk by. I would’ve been completely mortified if it had been his mom or dad, but this just makes me grin like the cat that ate the canary.

We spend the rest of the party glued to one another’s side. He wants to say something to Emerson, but I beg him not to. I don’t want to be in the middle of any drama or confrontations, especially the first time I accompany him to a family event. As long as he and I are fine, that’s all that matters to me. I also find out Easton is giving him the silent treatment because he refused to pay off one of his gambling debts, and as hard as I know it is for him to tell him no, I’m extremely proud of him.

As the sun begins to set behind the neighboring canyon, the party winds down and everyone starts to leave—Emerson and Easton being the first to go. After we say goodbye and thank everyone for coming, Madden and I return to his house. I’d planned on going back to my apartment tonight, since tomorrow is a weekday morning, but after everything that’s happened today, I allow him to easily talk me into staying one more night with him.

In typical Madden form, he worships every inch of my body with his hands and mouth, bringing me to the edge and pulling me back over and over again, making me beg for his cock to provide the relief I need. By the time he reaches his climax, I’ve lost count of the mind-altering orgasms he’s treated me to. He quickly disposes of the condom, then snuggles me close to him, where the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls me to sleep. As I drift off into blissful slumber, he kisses the top of my head and whispers, “I can’t not love you, sweet girl.”

T
HE
WEEKS
FOLLOWING
THE
party at Madden’s parents’ house, he and I fall into a steady routine. During the week, I stay at my apartment, as we’re both extremely busy with work. Occasionally, we’ll have a quick lunch together to keep from having complete withdrawals from one another, but mainly it’s phone calls and texts until Friday evening. As soon as I get off work on Fridays, I head directly to his house and I stay with him until I go to work on Monday morning. We spend an equal amount of time between going out and exploring things to do on the California coast, and the things we can do to each other under the sheets. No matter where we are, he’s introducing me to a life I never thought I’d be able to have—a life of freedom, a life of happiness.

One Friday afternoon, I’m counting down the hours until I can escape the office and get to his house, when I get a text from him.

I have a surprise for you tonight.

I’ll send a car to pick you up at the office at 6:00.

I’m about to go into meetings for the rest of the day. See you then.

Excited over the idea he’s got something special planned for us, I quickly reply.

Okay, I’ll be waiting. Can’t wait to see you.

I’m a little confused over why he’d pick me up at the office and not my apartment, or why he wouldn’t just wait until I drive to his house, but my enthusiasm over the surprise overrides any questions. I’m sure he has a reason.

A few minutes before six, I gather my purse and phone, and wish Jae a good weekend. She reminds me to text her what the big surprise is as soon as I get the chance, and hugs me goodbye. The elevator seems to be running even slower than usual as I’m about to explode with anticipation. Finally, I step out of the metal shaft and rush towards the building’s exit. There’s a black limo waiting out front with a driver waiting by the door. I approach the man, and he smiles courteously at me.

“Miss Martin, I presume?” he asks.

I nod and he opens the door for me to slide onto the plush, black leather seats. As soon as I’m in the car, he closes the door behind me, and I twist in my seat expecting to find Madden waiting for me, but instead, I am greeted by a familiar, wicked smile. “Hello there, Blake. Or should I say
Bryleigh
?”

In a panicked state, I turn around and lunge for the handle to escape the car, but a sharp prick in the side of my neck stops me before I grasp the lever.

Then, the darkness consumes me.

the end.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to the following people for their continued support and encouragement throughout this unexpected journey (in no particular order):

Zar

Gabi & Dani

Trina

Kirsten

Nicki

Hang

Shelly

Toski

Kayla

Stephanie S.

Jennifer W.

Kassi

Jasmine

Sara G.

Jessica P.

Joanne S.

Michelle G.

Carrie H.

Melissa B.

My Growing Street Team

Huge thanks to Caroline Menezes, my sweet Brazilian friend, for her translations and talking fútbol with me!

And the ladies tuhat make it all happen, the amazing bloggers!

DESTRUCTIVE

by

JESSICA PRINCE

Available now at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and iBooks

PROLOGUE

“Do this for Mommy, baby,” she pleads. Desperation is the only thing I’m able to see in her bloodshot eyes. Her hands shake uncontrollably as she reaches up and runs her fingers through her greasy, matted hair.

She’s gone too long without a fix and it’s starting to show. “Be a good girl and go get pretty. You know how much they love it when you look pretty for them.” She smiles down at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

It never reaches her eyes.

The desperation becomes palpable the longer I sit unmoving on my bed. I know what she’s demanding of me. It’s the same thing she’s required ever since I became old enough to grab a man’s attention.

I clench my fists together, squeezing so tightly my nails cut into the palms of my hands drawing blood. I can’t let her see me break. I can’t let any of them see me that way. I learned long ago they feed off of weakness.. I won’t allow them to see me weak.

I take a shaky breath and look into the eyes that once looked so much like mine. There is no longer light in those green eyes as she looks back at me, just a lifeless void. I’ve seen the pictures she keeps hidden in a box deep in the back of her closet. I know what she used to look like, how beautiful she used to be, but that was before she let this world swallow her whole. Before she let her addiction outweigh everything that was once important to her. I look exactly like she did before she became the shell of a person she is now. Her eyes were shining in those pictures. She was so full of life once.

Nothing is important to her anymore. Where she used to be beautiful, now she’s nothing but a gaunt, soulless shadow of her former self. I was born to a woman who wasn’t capable of caring for herself so I’d learned early on that she would never be capable of caring about me. I used to watch the children I went to school with and wish I could have the happy, carefree lives they had, but as years went by that hope I clung to turned to pain before finally morphing into a hatred I held deep inside. Eventually, that hatred gave way to a numbness that has taken over my entire being.

I lost my innocence long before I even knew it existed. I never got to feel what my classmates felt. I’ve never had safety…security. I’ve never had someone looking out for what was best for me. The life I lead is the one I was born into—forced into.

Feeling numb is the only thing that has kept me alive all these years. If I were able to feel anything, the misery that is my life would have drowned me long ago. I embrace that numbness now, especially in times like these.

Standing from my ratty, stain covered mattress, I make my way past the woman who dragged me into this awful world and close myself in the bathroom. I know what I have to do. It’s what I’ve done for years. My body carries me through the motions without ever having to engage my mind. This is second nature to me. This is survival.

And survival is all I have left.

Turning the nozzle, I make the water as hot as my body can stand it before stepping into the rusted tub and under the shower head. The water pressure in this sorry excuse of a house is practically nonexistent so cleaning my body takes twice as long as it should.

As I scrub my skin raw, I linger under the scalding spray, welcoming the pain it creates as it hits my skin. It won’t be much longer now. I know I need to get out of the shower and finish getting ready, but I can’t just yet. My eyes are shut tightly as I try to empty my mind of every bad image that’s running through it, but before I’m able to clear it all, there’s a frantic pounding on the bathroom door.

“Marlena, please hurry. They’ll be here soon.” I can hear the panic in her voice and it makes me hate her even more. The woman who created me, the one who was supposed to protect me from all of the bad things in life—from the monsters—is the one person on the face of the earth that I hate with every fiber of my being. She didn’t protect me from the monsters. She invited them right to our doorstep.

“I’m coming,” I call out as I turn off the water and step from the tub. I manage to get the towel secured around my body just before the bathroom door flies open. “Here, drink this,” she says, sitting a glass down on the dingy yellow counter top. “It’ll help you feel better.”

This is just another of the sick and twisted rituals that I have with my mother. I pick up the glass and down the amber liquid in one gulp, allowing myself to bask in the burn the alcohol creates as it makes its way down my throat and settles into my stomach. One more glass and the numbness I crave will begin coursing through me.

As I blow my hair dry and begin to apply my makeup, Mother brings in my much welcomed refill. I swallow it down without even blinking. The alcohol is the only thing that will get me through the coming night.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” she whispers as she wrings her shaky hands in front of her. These are the only times she shows any outward emotion towards me, and I know it’s only because I’m assisting in getting her what she needs. Her next fix—her next high.

The loving tone of her voice causes my teeth to clench until my jaw begins to ache. When I don’t respond, she turns and makes her way back into the living room, leaving me to finish preparing for tonight in peace.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror before me, I see what everyone else on the outside sees. A beautiful girl with long, flowing black hair to contrast the green of her eyes. Soft, olive skin and gorgeous curves. There are girls who envy my appearance, who choose to hate me just because they wish to look like me.