Abandoned Angel

COPYRIGHT © 2011

Abandoned Angel is a work of fiction.

All characters, names, and situations are

products of the author’s imagination.

None of the situations are based off of actual incidents.

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 are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is for you Tim, for the endless encouragement,

dedicated advice, and the strength, laughter,

and love that you offer.

Angelina awoke, slowly, alone in the dense night air, feeling light-headed and nauseated. The daunting taste of blood filled her swollen mouth. Her body ached wildly. It felt as if a cloud had engulfed her throbbing head, completely suffocating it. She struggled to make sense of where she was and how she had gotten there. With her cheek pressed against the hard paved ground, she worked to clear her mind. The battered woman tried to bring herself to focus on something in the dark - anything. Through the thick haze, Angelina eyed a row of parked motorcycles, and realized she was lying in a parking lot. She focused on the sound of music and muffled voices coming from the building behind her. She remained; afraid to move, afraid of the pain she felt and afraid of being seen. She had no idea where she was, or how long she had been there. How she got there, on the other hand, came back to her suddenly, painfully.

“That bastard,” she mumbled, remembering how the evening had unfolded. Her estranged husband, recently released from jail, had showed up at her doorstep just before dusk. He demanded to see Justin, their beautiful young son.

“Oh, Justin,” she gasped, realizing that he was no longer with her. Panic filled her heart. The realization that Rusty had dumped her and taken her child sent the young mother into deep sobs.

The image of her little boy with his deep blue eyes and light brown hair consumed her. The harder she concentrated on the image of his peaceful face, the quicker the mist began to clear from her mind. Frustrated, Angelina remained on the ground as she tried to catch her breath. Her husband had threatened to take Justin from her before, but she never believed he would actually do it. He never showed enough interest in Justin to cause her any real fear of that. This lack of interest is what now scared her the most. How long would it take before the man became bored with Justin, tossing him aside as well?

Angelina attempted to pull herself together. She tried to remember the details of what had transpired and how she had ended up alone in the dark on this hot, August night. Slowly, she sat up and cradled her head between her fragile hands, forcing herself to recollect what had happened to her and her son. She recalled how she had made fish sticks and tater tots for dinner, per her son’s request. They were getting ready to sit at the old dining room table when a knock at the door startled her. Rarely did anyone come to her home, but she was more curious about the visitor than concerned, and opened the door without apprehension. There stood Rusty, rifle in hand, with a familiar look of disappointment smeared across his face and hate centered in his eyes. Instantly that old feeling of overwhelming anxiety and desperate fear crept into her being and she froze. Angelina distinctly remembered the smoky smell of the rifle. There was no doubt in her mind that the weapon was loaded and that Rusty would not hesitate to use it. She had refused to bring her son to visit him in jail, and this had infuriated the man. He was there to pay her back.

From the moment that Angelina opened the door, surprised to find Rusty standing there, to her last memory before blacking out, time seemed to move in slow motion.

Rusty remained composed when he entered the trailer house. He spoke to Angelina with relaxed assurance, asking to see his son. The calm would not last, Angelina was well aware of this. Realizing that her best chance at keeping Justin safe was to cooperate with her ill-tempered husband, Angelina instructed Justin to tell his father hello. She did the best she could to appear happy about seeing the man, although her insides squirmed with discomfort.

When Rusty tried to hug the boy, Justin pulled away, afraid of the stranger. Rusty had been in jail for a number of months and Justin barely remembered him. The nervous child ran to his mother for protection, clinging to her long legs as he hid behind her. In that instant, the anger posted across Rusty’s face, just as it had many times in the past. He was outraged that his own son would not come to him, and this anger rang through his eyes. Rusty managed to fake a smile as he told Justin that it was ok, and instructed him to eat his dinner in front of the small television in the living room. Even at his young age, Justin sensed something was wrong with his mother, but did as told. Angelina did the best she could to pretend that everything was all right for Justin’s sake. Terrified as she was, she did not want him frightened as well. As soon as the child stepped out of sight, Rusty started in on her.

Angelina recalled the pain she felt when Rusty shoved her hard against the paneled wall, and then knocked her to the floor. She landed with a grueling thud. Rusty’s first kick settled across her ribs. The force of his attack astounded her. The next one landed against her thigh as she scrambled to move herself out of his reach. She did not move fast enough. His wicked grin made her nauseous, as did the excruciating pain he inflicted. He allowed Angelina time to get onto her feet, only to backhand the side of her face. Her eyes watered as the sting set in. Ashamed of her weakness, she tried to keep her son from hearing the abuse she was enduring.

Rusty grabbed his terrified wife by her long, tangled hair and pulled her into the cramped kitchen.

“How dare you try to keep my son from me,” Rusty growled; his voice remained low and steady.

His bangs flipped in front of his eyes as he heaved her onto the linoleum kitchen floor. It was obvious to Angelina that he had bulked up while in prison. He was stronger and faster than she remembered. Rusty kept his voice low, not wanting Justin to hear what was happening. He did not want the kid scared. He needed the skittish boy to trust him.

“I’ll show you what it feels like to have your son taken away,” he declared as he once again hit Angelina’s bloodied face.

She yelped in pain.

Not once had the woman brought his son to visit Rusty while he was away and she would pay for that. Absolute hatred reflected in his sable eyes, causing fear to consume her defeated body. Whatever it was that the swine wanted her to do - she would do - if that meant keeping her baby safe.

When Rusty finally decided that Angelina had enough abuse, he forced pills into her bleeding mouth. He grabbed a handful of her sun-streaked hair and yanked her head back until he was sure she swallowed them. He laughed to himself as she cried, her desperate deep blue eyes pleading for mercy. He intended to give her none. Instead, the vile man crushed a pill into a tippy cup, and then filled the cup with grape juice for Justin. Angelina watched in terror and disbelief as she realized what he was doing. She had no idea what he forced her to take, but believed it would be the end of both her and her son. With desperate pleads, she begged Rusty not to give the drink to Justin. She was no longer concerned about her son hearing the commotion; she just wanted him to run. In an effort to stop the brusque man, she grabbed his arm as he headed to the small living room. When she started to yell for Justin, Rusty placed the rifle up against her rosy cheek, and dared her to give him a reason to pull the trigger.

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Sitting there now, alone in the dark, Angelina recalled the thump she heard when the butt of the rifle hit her across the side of her slender face causing her to black out.

When Angelina opened her eyes, she found herself sprawled out in the passenger seat of Rusty's truck. It took her a couple of minutes to realize where she was. It had been a long time since she had seen the inside of the old truck. The vehicle sat parked behind their trailer for nearly ten months while her husband sat in jail. She had been surprised over the fact that the truck was running. Before going to jail, Rusty had told his wife that it did not work and when she had tried to start the truck, it would not turn over. Rusty had made sure of that. This was another way for him to control his spouse, knowing she could not afford to buy another vehicle. Without a vehicle, she could not leave him.

When Angelina awoke in the truck, Justin was lying motionless in the back seat. She had never experienced such agony as she felt then; not knowing whether he was hurt or even alive. She managed to jam her arm between the door and the front seat without Rusty noticing. She breathed easy after she found Justin’s tiny hand, feeling a slight movement as he returned her squeeze. She wanted to assure him that it would be all right, but she did not last long before blacking out again.

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Sitting there with her hands wrapped around her head, Angelina wondered how far Rusty had driven before abandoning her. She recalled the helplessness she felt before falling back into the darkness in the passenger seat of the truck. Justin had needed her to rescue him, but she had been powerless to do so in her drugged state. Now he was gone, and she had no idea how to find him.

Angelina had been threatened and bruised many times by her husband, but he had never hurt the child - this thought kept Angelina from going out of her mind as she sat alone and helpless in the darkened lot.

She propped her legs up tight against her chest and rested her swollen cheek on top of her knees. The pebbles embedded in Angelina’s dirty jeans pressed into her skin. She held on for dear life, wondering if she would black out again. Consumed by an immense fear of not knowing how to find her son, she leaned to the side and puked most of what remained in her stomach. Rusty had often threatened to “throw her worthless ass away,” and now it seemed he had. Repeatedly he told Angelina that she was nothing but white trash and that no one would ever want her. Over the years, he did his best to convince her that no one would even notice, nonetheless care if she disappeared. Keeping her isolated was how Rusty maintained his control over Angelina. She belonged solely and completely to him, at least until the baby came along.

Angelina cried as she listened to his dreadful voice whispering inside her head, wondering if it were true. She admittedly had no one to call for help. She had no family to run to, no real friends to speak of, and no money to use to escape. Feeling trapped by her husband, she quit believing in the judicial system long ago. It had let her down too many times in her life. All she had wanted was to start over, just her and her gentle boy. He was all that she needed and for a while, she had felt the happiness and peace of having him to herself.

When Rusty went to jail, Angelina was admittedly relieved. She knew he used drugs but did not realize that he had started dealing them as well. Although she was shocked that he had not returned home, she was glad. With him gone, she allowed herself to live with hope and joy - no fear, no nervousness, and no beatings.

With one horrible knock on the door, he took that life away from her.

Brought to her senses by the emptiness in her heart, Angelina knew that she had to find her baby. She had to rescue Justin from whatever it was that Rusty had in store for the boy. She would not let that bastard of a husband raise her son.

The desperate woman stood, ignoring the stifling pain, and slowly headed for the poorly lit structure. The sudden jerk, as she bent at the waist to vomit, made the sensation worse. She spit the taste of blood and bile out of her mouth while trying to ignore the sharp pain easing up her side. The realization that she would never again see her son if she did not figure something out quickly brought her back to her senses - urging her to move forward. Concentrating, she looked around her glum surroundings in an effort to determine where she was. In the darkened night, there appeared to be miles of gravel running along the quiet highway with nothing to fill the flat terrain. The warmth of the air surprised her. There had been a chill earlier that evening, but now, the atmosphere hung still. Angelina listened a moment to the music whipping through the broken window as she again tried to remember how she specifically ended up there - wherever that was. She could not remember anything past holding her son’s hand in the dark truck. Perhaps that had not even happened. Her thoughts, tangled and confused, made it difficult to proceed. Looking around, she wondered where the hell Rusty had dumped her.