Ache for You (Trapped in Three Hill Book 1)

 

TRAPPED IN THREE HILL, BOOK # 1

 

 

 

ACHE FOR YOU

 

NANCY BEAUDET

 

 

Published by 4 Paws Games and Publishing

Humboldt, Saskatchewan, Canada

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

              No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission.

 

Attention: Permission C/O

Nancy Beaudet

204 50 McLean Street

Red Deer, Alberta. T4R 1W7

 

Trapped in Three Hill, Book # 1: Ache for You

Written and Created by Nancy Beaudet

Cover Art by Henry Buitrago

Edited by Matthew Kennedy

Formatted and Published by

4 Paws Games and Publishing

First Edition

Published February, 2016

ISBN 13:
978-0992030636
ISBN 10:
0992030633

Book and Illustration copyrights

© 2016 by Nancy Beaudet   All Rights Reserved

 

Published by 4 Paws Games and Publishing

P.O. Box 444

Humboldt, Saskatchewan, Canada

S0K 2A0

http://
www.4-Paws-Games-and-Publishing.ca

Publishing logo and name copyright © 2016

All Rights Reserved

 

The publisher is not responsible for the book, website or social media (or its content) that is not owned by the publisher. All legal matters are to be taken up with the author as the publisher holds no responsibilities.

 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

              There are a lot of people I want to thank, people and places that made all of this worth it.

              The first people I would like to acknowledge and thank are Vickianne and Kenn of
4 Paws Games and Publishing
. I know I’ve told you this a hundred times but you have helped me more than you could ever imagine. I have been submitting work to publishers for forever, only to get rejected. I’ve given up so many times and felt like every word I have written was worthless. I have kept writing because it’s the only thing that makes me feel strong and powerful in moments of weakness. Even when nobody else agrees, my imagination is my happy place. You not only told me why “Ache for You” wasn’t ready to be published, but you also went through it with me step by step and helped me make it ready to be publishing. This was the best thing I could ever imagine and it was just the help I needed. I have a really bad habit of finishing something, and backing the hell away from it. You allowed me to do this, but you always pulled me back towards in. Thank you for that.

              I also want to thank my mother; she’s been putting up with my random stories for years. She still believes I’m going to be a super-awesome best seller and I wish that maybe someday I’ll get to be that for her. That would be super cool, or whatever. You know, whatever works.

I want to thank my husband Adam, for buying me a laptop when mine broke so I could keep writing, and supporting me in any way he can.  He knows and understands that writing is all that I am.

For my father and my sister, my baby nieces, her husband, and my in-laws! Mark and Diane, you really are my second parents. For Luke, for being awesome. For my co-workers at Peavey Mart, my girls. You make me laugh every day and help me ogle over potential hot guy muses. What?! It’s work! It’s allowed! For Kayla and Sarah, my very own fan-girls.  Also for Gabe for talking me out of distracting myself from seeing this project through. I love you all.

              Thank you!

DEDICATION

 

              For Neil, because every day we miss you.

 

             

 

 

“Grief does not change you, Hazel, it reveals you.”

-John Green,
The Fault in Our Stars
.

 

 

 

              “No guy is worth your life. Not ever.”

              -
Buffy The Vampire Slayer
.

CHAPTERS

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Seven Years Ago:
Waking Up Right in the Middle of It All - Cadence

Now: 1  Waking Up Right in the Middle of It All - Mal

2: Waking Up in the Middle of It All – Flo

3: Fuck You Flo – Mal

4: It’s Not His Fault – Flo

5: Drown It Out – Mal

6: This Is Bullshit – Flo

7: Can You Hear Me Now? - Mal

8: What the Hell is Wrong with You? - Flo

9: My Eyes Hurt from Looking at Pictures of You – Mal

10: This Isn’t Real – Flo

11: Suicide – Mal

12: Consumed – Flo

13: I Feel You – Mal

14: How Could You? - Flo

15: Not Yet – Mal

16: I Can't Do This – Flo

17: Tastes Like Sex - Flo

18: Everything but That - Mal

19: Can’t Go Back - Flo

20: How Dare You? - Mal

21: Jokes Forever - Flo

22: Not Here - Mal

23: Forever - Flo

24: Before and After - Mal

25: No! - Flo

26: The First Kiss of Death - Cadence

27: I’m Fucked up, and I Know It - Mal

28: Who Is That? - Cadence

29: What the Actual Frack? - Cadence

30: Bring the World Back – Cadence

31: But It Is - Mal

32: I Will Not Ask for Help - Mal

33: Second Chances Suck Ass - Mal

34: You Did Exactly That - Mal

35: Kiss Me and Think of Her, You Turd - Cadence

36: Fall for You - Mal

37: Fuck It - Cadence

38: Just Try It - Mal

39: I’ve Been Kidnapped! - Cadence

40: Invite It In - Mal

41: Leave Me Be - Cadence

42: Where Are You Now? - Mal

43: Say It Again - Cadence

44: Take Me Back - Mal

45: Lie Against - Cadence

46: With Her - Mal

47: Suicide Hair - Cadence

48: I Know You - Cadence

49: Back Together - Mal

50: What the Fuck Was That? - Mal

51: “What Happened to Your Brother Caddie?” - Cadence

52: I Like This – Mal

53: But I Did – Cadence

54: Say It Again - Mal

55: Don’t Break It – Cadence

56: Some Like It Hot – Mal

57: Trust Me, Please? - Cadence

58: Patience – Mal

59: Wait for It - Cadence

60: Accept It – Mal

61: Pray for It – Cadence

62: My Last Breath – Mal

63: Can We Start Over? - Cadence

Epilogue and Forever: This Is What Matters – Flo

Synopsis Trapped in Three Hill, Book # 2

Prologue: Nice to Meet You Dude – Emelia

One: Moments of Getting to Know You - Torrance

 

Waking Up Right in the Middle of It All - Cadence

 

              I blacked out. I have no idea how; I couldn’t remember pouring anything suspicious down my throat. Nothing other than my usual drink choice, a black cherry flavoured Vodka in a plastic bottle. I drank to drown my feelings out. I wanted to shut my brain down. I wanted to put myself on mute. It happened once or twice or ten-hundred times, I have no fucking clue.

              I think that I lost count.

              I was blind in a poorly lit room I was on a stranger’s couch. The room was cold; I was pretty sure that it was dark out. I drove here alone, my first year of college was over now and I wanted one last hurrah before the rest of my life went down the tubes.

              My bedazzled yellow bra was pushed up and my purple strapless dress was pulled down. A stranger had his hands on my legs, spreading me out. His rough and ragged nails scratched at my skin as he adjusted himself. He growled from the back of his throat. I tried to reach out to push him away but all I could do was flail. He had me in his control.

              He wasn’t small, this beast with his large body that took up half the couch. His blue jeans hurt my skin and his stomach was heavy against my bare navel. I could see just the smallest hint of his clothes. He was wearing a t-shirt, the loose neck full of holes. It was a darker blue, the knees of his jeans were torn and frayed, the denim tight around his ankles. He was wearing work boots. His face was a mystery shrouded in vomit though, he was the darkness and the evil.

              I had always liked the colour purple and my dress was the perfect shade of wonderful. Plum Purple. That was part of the reason I had picked this outfit out, I had wanted to dye my hair purple the day I graduated from high school, but I was too scared to.

              I had to be drunk to have the courage to dress like this out and about. The real me was scared of her own shadow.  I wasn’t myself right now; I hated that girl. The drunk me was obnoxious and loud. No one could tell me what to do, at least it had always been like that until now.

              I puked, but it barely came up and out since the stranger wouldn't let me roll over. The evil darkness chuckled. I managed to turn my head, smearing vomit onto the uncomfortable couch. I moved my face up and down, marking both the fabric and myself.

              I felt so gross. I wanted to hose myself down.

              "Let me go." I tried to sound forceful but it came out as a garble. My throat was full of bile. I was disgusted with myself. My hands were pinned down. My arms felt like limp and loose, twisted backwards and numb to the world. I felt awful and terrible and all alone.

              My fat legs must have been heavy because the darkness groaned as he tried to lift me and reposition himself. He told me that I should try some cardio, he thought that working out might help. He said that I was disgusting and gross. I wanted to tell him that those words meant the same thing, so he should think of better insults.

              I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself but every time that I tried to speak, I just choked. Every time he chuckled I felt my insides twist with the invasion of poison into my world.

              His hands were cold, his palms clammy as he ran his fingers up and down every part of me that was now up for show. His touch inside of my mouth felt how I imagined a snake’s tongue would feel:  slimy and cold. He kissed me hard, bruising my lips with his own. It was like he was trying to eat my face whole.  I felt my body tremble.

              The darkness took this as invitation when really it was a reaction to his evil. I opened my eyes and saw the darkness smile. He released my mouth and the sound of us detaching was something like an overworked vacuum. He sucked all the goodness out. I was left empty and used. I felt so ill. He didn’t do anything well.

              "Let me go."

              "No.” He leaned down.

              His breath on my neck made me want to roll away from this fresh hell, but fat his arms had me caged in without free will.

              "If I let you go you'll think that you can just get drunk and lead me on without punishment. That's simply not allowed Caddie Doll. I want what you were offering a couple hours ago."

              Everyone that I had ever known called me Caddie Doll, including my parents and all of my so-called friends from school.

              My attacker using this nickname for me was not a tell, it gave me no clues to who he was. None at all.

              I started to wonder in the back of my brain if there was a part of me that didn’t really want to know. What would happen if I could give a name to this evil? Would they help me? I doubted so. Even if I could tell anybody, I knew that they would only look at me and see a girl who had regretted unlocking her knees so easily. No one would believe me.

              "No," my voice was not loud. I felt feeble and small. I had never felt small. I was a big girl. I had always been a big girl. My hips were round and my back had its fair share of fat rolls. I wasn't beautiful. I wasn’t delicate. I was never weak.

              I did not need to be protected. I protected myself.

              My long hair was a dark chocolate brown, it no longer felt soft against my knuckles. The strands were soaked with alcohol and stomach acid. I hadn’t eaten in a while.  I had nothing left to puke and yet I puked on him again anyhow. He growled.

              I was only twenty years old. I still felt like a child. I definitely wasn't an adult. I lived on my own and almost always spent the night out and about. Perched on bar stools downtown glancing around, an insignificant mound of girl in a garbage pile so desperate to drown.

              Three Hill was a small town. It was home. It had always been my home. I tried to blend into the crowd in middle school, and even high school, but had universally failed to do so. I was quiet and I was loud, I was awkward as all hell. No one wanted me around. Then or now.

              I could hardly blame them, though. I tried for years to like myself, because everyone always said that the only way for others to love you was if you first loved yourself. I used to watch a lot of daytime talk shows.

              I tried so hard to find something about me that was worth hanging onto. My searches came up empty. I liked my crooked smile, but my stupid snort whenever I laughed ruined the allure. I was ugly, people told me this all the time growing up. I was annoying, I legit road the short bus to school. I was that girl; I was special in the cruellest way possible. I clutched at nothing but alcohol; my demons were always so damn loud.

              Drinking tuned it all out.

              I heard my phone.

              I heard the stupid ring tone I had recorded off of my CD player at home. I felt hope. My heart hammered in my chest, my eyes, which had refused to close, burned now. I tried to turn my head to look around. Oh Alex! That was his ringtone. He would call. My baby brother was only sixteen years old. He knew me better than anybody else. He would help. He wouldn’t let me down. He would save me somehow.             

              “Please let me go. I promise that I won’t tell,” I angled my face away from the greasy lips attacking my face and the mouth that smelled like asshole.

              “Too late for that Caddie Doll.” The creep grabbed my boob, curving himself on top of me before pinching my nipple.

              I yelped.

              “Let. Me. Go.” I found the strength to jolt my legs up into his groin muscles. The big galoot barely moved. I reached a hand out, feeling for my phone. Were other people in this darkened room? I couldn’t tell.  I could hear strange sounds.

              I wanted to ask the ghosts about their obvious lack of morals, astounded at the lack of help. I wanted to be rescued. This weirded me out. My fingertips connected with the hard plastic of my pink Nokia flip phone, but before I stretched my arm further out the darkness on top of me had suddenly moved. The darkness was gone. Lifted off of me by some sort of miracle. A miracle that had muscles.

              That asshole on top of me was huge. He was gone now.

              I could breathe. I gulped heavy oxygen down.

              I heard the sounds of flesh being pounded by furious fists. I rolled over onto my hip, pulling my knees up as I choked. I tried to cover myself, feeling for my underwear but they were somewhere on the ground.

              I sat up a little.

              “Here,” a voice said, somewhere close. I heard a body being dropped rudely against the soft carpeted ground. “What a douche,” the soft voice mumbled. I tried to look around but all I saw was a shadow. The voice handed me someone’s coat.

              “Come on, you need this more than I do.”

              I took it, nodding.

              “Thank…thank you.” I could barely get the words out. When I opened my mouth a chunk of something gross fell out. Oh no. My eyes locked on the shadow. He turned around. Holy unicorn angels.

              Even in the shadows my saviour was beautiful. He held himself strong and tall, his hands tight against his sides. He was younger than me, I could tell. Still, I couldn’t help but enjoy the shadowed view.

              “It’s fine. You don’t need to thank me or anything, just cover yourself with that, you should be okay once you pull your dress down. I’ll help you out. I think your brother’s van just mowed the mail box down. He’s freaking the fuck out.” My saviour sounded strangely proud, again he smiled. He was looking around as he laughed softly to himself, rubbing at his jaw. How was anything funny right now? I wanted to shout before I got mad at myself. Realization turning into soft doubt.

              Alex was here?

              Why? And how?

              I never got to answer my phone. I sat all the way up. Pulling on the coat and fixing my dress so that my boobs were no longer hanging out.

              “You shouldn’t drink so much.” My hero rattled, it was only then that I noticed how nice his voice really was. It was soft and showing of his youth. I could tell that we separated by a few years or so.

              “Something really bad could have happened to you.”

              “Yeah,” I mumbled, “Says who?”

              “Me.” He finally got really close to where I sat on the couch, locking sharp green eyes onto my dull brown. “My name is Mal.”

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