Carmen's Past Ch. 01

Note: this is the beginning of a story I am hoping to turn into a novella. This is just an introduction so there is no explicitness and such yet; however, I hope this intrigues all you readers enough to follow the story as it develops.

Enjoy:)

~Introduction~

I jerk out of sleep as I feel the bed roll beneath my tired body. A confused panic settles into my half-conscious mind as I roll backward. My back hits solid flesh, and I stiffen before I feel a familiar arm curl around my waist. My bones and muscles relax into a firm chest that held a comfort no bed in the world could offer.

With a sigh weighted by sleep, I peer at the clock on the table beside my bed. The bright letters pierce through the night and inform me that it is not even midnight yet. "Why are you home early, love?" I whisper the question as if to not break the silence of darkness and night. My hand moves to rest on my lover's forearm and I let my fingertips race intricate patterns on his skin.

Jason breathe into my hair, simultaneously warming me and sending chills down my spine as his breath glides across my naked shoulder and neck. He nuzzles his face into the sensitive skin and speaks in a muffled tone, "I fell of a ladder."

Instantly, my body is slapped into wakefulness as if I'd been dunked into a vat of icy water. I struggle around thick blankets until I'm facing Jason; the process leaves me with my legs tangled in the sheets. Horror, dread, and anxiety are blood in my veins as my wide eyes search his face and roam over his blanket-covered body. I push myself to a sitting position, ready to pull on clothing and march him to a hospital, but the concern leaping like flames in my eyes are extinguished by the mischievous smile stretching over his lips.

My teeth catch my bottom lip and I give him a heady glare. "Jerk," I spit at him. My heart is still pounding in my chest even as the last remains of shock leave my system. Fuming, I kick my legs until the blankets are no longer encasing my limbs. "I swear, you will be the death of me," I mumble, my irritation drifts into a sea of forgotten things as I snuggle back into the mattress. Purposely, I keep space between the two of us. Partially because he was irritating but also for the reason that I like when he is the one to close the distance between us.

He says nothing, but I can feel his eyes on me. My eyelids fall like curtains over my eyes, thickening the darkness. Carefully, I fold my hands over my stomach and lay still. Unable to see, I feel my senses reach out and become hyper-aware. I feel the bed shift and my heart picks up in a different way than earlier. Tingles run over my body as if someone was waving a staticy balloon close my skin. My lungs expand with the inhale of a deep breath; I hold I and count to twenty before I feel a finger trace the line of my jaw.

My lips part and I jump as I feel Jason's body close to mine, hovering beside me. I realize that he has gotten good at this game we play. The bed shifts again as I feel him move. Surprisingly, I feel his weight settle over my hips and I open my eyes to see him straddling em. Tilting my head to the side, I meet his gaze for a moment before I turn away, embarrassed by the love and devotion I see in his gaze.

Maybe that is too strong of a word, embarrassed. Or not the correct word. Maybe "anxious"? Whichever it is, it pools in my stomach while this thing taking the name of Love fills my heart. Love is not something I'm used to, and I've surly never felt it like this before. Never so pure.

When I gather the courage to meet Jason's gaze again, I find his eyes have traveled elsewhere. He has taken to caressing my features in a way no hand ever could. I feel him soak in the shape of my face and the baby fat that seems insistent on staying attached to my cheeks. Even though the dim light of the moon and streetlamps glowing through our window don't offer much, I feel as if his eyes see every part of me perfectly. His gaze traces heavily along the shape of my full lips and the straight line of my nose. Every feature that is present is noticed. From the smallest of details, like the beauty mark near the corner of my left eyes, to the more noticeable markings like the scar that splits my eye right brow and the other that stretches from the bottom of my ear and along my jaw.

Trophies from a life before him.

Every time he sees them, I wonder what he thinks of me, the things I've gone through, and my past decisions to cope with the horrors I had. My pitiful quest for love and acceptance that followed it all... He knows everything now, and I still can not fathom as to why he still--

"Stop that," he whispers as he drops his forehead to meet mine. I blink rapidly and feel tears stream out of the corners of my eyes. My hands shake and I feel my eyes stretched wide even though I see nothing. "Carmen, stay with me. Don't think about it."

I try to answer but air is coming to quickly in and out of my lungs. My lungs pull in deep breaths, but it's as if a giant hand is squeezing it back out. Panicking, I try to focus on Jason's voice but I can no longer hear him over the hard-pressing silence that has suffocated my ears. I feel his arms wrap around me as if I was not in my body. I feel him squeeze me tight as if he could hold me with him and keep me from the horrors these fits bring on me. My mouth moves, but I can't make sense of the words coming out. Blackness clouds the edges of my vision and I close my eyes to block what I know will come next...

***********************************************

My father wasn't the nicest man in the world. Especially when he was drunk. He had a tendency to swing his fists around and scream when something caught his attention and he didn't care for it. He was the type of man that took his anger out on smaller things because he was too cowardly to deal with his real issues. Those fists of his were large and they were the reason I was forever covering bruises and cuts after confrontations with him.

It was a wonder no one noticed. And when they did notice, it was too late.

On top of my father's drinking habits, he was dependent on drugs. His behavior while he was riding in the clouds were worse than his drunkenness.

My father was an addict of several expensive and illegal drugs that caused him to pawn numerous items around our small, beaten-down house just to support his dependency. Before I got out of there, nearly everything was gone. And all he had to show for it were powders and pills weighed by grams.

I remember that we, well I, had been forced to build fires in the backyard just to heat up food because he had sold the appliances. I had also been forced to get a job and government aid since we were near broke and I was starving all the time. Some days my stomach felt as if it was slowly eating it's self from the inside out. The pain that I felt was deep and seemingly unsatisfiable.

By the time I was sixteen I knew that I wanted out of that house. I wasn't out of that life and I wanted to leave him forever and never see his patchy beard and bloodshot eyes ever again. Two weeks before my eighteenth birthday, I had my new home picked out and a job secure and an exact route to my freedom in place. Two days to my departure, I had my bags packed with my meager belongings and I was so eager to leave that I didn't see the change in my father's behavior. I was so caught up; I missed the signs and the warnings that were telling me to just run and run far.

I had just turned eighteen when my dad sold me to a dealer to pay off some borrowed money for his addiction.

And even though it was five years ago, I still recall the event clearly...

The morning sun pierced into the window of m small room, highlighting the old concrete floor that had been left bare after my dad cut out all the flooring to sell to a pawnshop, and the patchy, peeling walls that hadn't been painted in decades. I was laying on my bed, which was nothing more than a mattress laying on the floor with a pile of blankets on top. The summer air allowed me to only have to use a single sheet, however, I kept several bundled under my head as a pillow. I was resting on the mattress, enjoying the morning for a reason that has slipped my mind for the moment.

When my eye traveled around my room and I saw my duffel bag, I smiled and sat up. Today was the day I'd been waiting for. It was the day of my freedom. Thinking about it sent chills of excitement down my spine and as I stood, I thought of all the possibilities my new life would bring.

I would get my GED since I'd been forced to drop out of high school. After that, I'd go to college and be in a dorm and have a job until I graduated...

The sound of the front door slamming shut made me pause in the act of getting dressed. I stood still in a clean t-shirt and one foot in my jeans as wondered what my father was doing up so early. My ears strained to hear more and I detected multiple voices in the other room. Frowning, I pulled on my jeans and stuffed my socked feet into my shoes. What were visitors doing at the house so early?

A knot of fear tied itself into the walls of my stomach as I stuffed my night clothes into my bag and hitched it up onto my shoulder. I couldn't explain this apprehension that was growing and expanding like dough left to rise. Debating the probability that I would be able to leave unnoticed through the front door, I paced my room while pulling my black hair into a tie at the back of my head.

The voices continued on unintelligibly and I decided to hell with it. Opening my room door, I eased into the hallway. The only other rooms were a bathroom and my father's bedroom so the hall ended quicker than I would have liked. As I eased into the front room, I saw my father talking in a low voice with three men near the front door.

I sighed and began to head out the back. As I turned I ran into the broad front of a giant.

The man was as tall as a door frame and he was made of thick, solid muscle. I felt my eyes widen comically as I took a step back. He had tree trunks for arms and his torso was huge. Retreating a few steps, I saw the look on his face and took several more back.

That look was one I never wanted to see again.

It held infinite shades of anger, lust, malice, and several other emotions. A grin touched his lips and he leaned forward as if to come after me. A squeal escaped my mouth and I spun around to flee. Only to crash into one of the men my father had been talking to. This man was nothing like the giant; none of the others were. But he was still taller than me, which is pretty easy since I am only a little over five foot, and he had muscle roping his limbs as if he worked out daily.

A sneer spread over his face and I attempted to step back. His arms shot out and yanked me against his chest. The sudden move made me cry out in surprise and my bag fell from my arm.

"She's as pretty as you promised," one of the men still with my father approved as his gaze raked over me. The look he gave me, the look they all gave me, made me feel naked despite the clothing on my body.

The one holding me to him dropped his hands to my butt and I felt him squeeze. "She has a nice ass, Paul," he called to one of his companions. His hands squeezed again. Afraid, I attempted to push him away but he held me too tightly.

"I love a tight little ass," one man, presumably Paul chuckled as he walked up to me. "Let me see her, Matt."

Matt gave me up and I tried to back away but Paul grabbed my arms. A deep instinct made itself known inside me and I kicked out at Paul. His face contorted in pain and for a moment I could only stare. Then I booked it to the door.

I didn't make it.

My father charged into my path and grabbed me. His hold was strong but I still attempted to break free. I pulled against him and met his desperate gaze with one of my own. I watched as his mouth moved quickly and I caught a few words. "I have to! I have to! Don't run!" he begged but I found myself yelling back, pleading for him to release me. He didn't. Instead, he swung his fist high and the first blow connected with my right brow and another caught my temple. The force made me fall to my knees as dizziness clouded my vision. I slumped, trying to regain focus as the world grew mute and blurry.

When I came to, Matt was shouting about damaged property to my father who cringed like a scolded puppy in a corner. Someone pulled me to my feet. My head was pounding and throbbing and I felt something dripping down my brow.

In that moment, surrounded by five men with unknown intentions, I was more terrified than I had ever been in my entire life. I had no clue what was going on. All I wanted was to go and never come back.

Paul wrapped his arms around me and pressed my back to his chest. Both his hands found my breasts and I whimpered as he began kneading them in slow circles. "Better get used to this, girl. You will be with us for a while."

I was with them for two years.

I left with them that day, kicking and trying to yell around a piece of duct tape on my mouth. The giant, who I later learned had a name (Alexander), held me as I thrashed about as if I was weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. They drove off with me crying in the back of a van. My father didn't watch us go.

Last I had seen, Matt handed him a wad of cash and he was eagerly counting his profit, thinking of the amount of drugs his sale would reward him with.