Title: Number Thirteen
Author: Bella Jewel
Expected Release Date: March 17, 2014
Genre: Dark Romance
**AUTHOR NOTE - This is NOT a BDSM Romance**
We're thirteen girls, captive, slave to our master. A master we've never seen. Obedience will become all we know in our shallow existence. It is the only emotion we're permitted to feel. When we're bad, we're punished. When we're good, we're rewarded. Our scars run deep. Yet we survive, because we have to... because HE teaches us to. All of us are special, we feel it with everything we are. He has us for a reason, but it's a reason we don't know. We've never seen his face, but we know that something deeply broken lies beneath the darkness. With every touch, with every punishment, we know it. Then something changed. He showed me who he truly is. Now I want him. I'll go against everything I know to be with him.
A monster.
My monster.
Loving him is a sin, but a sinner I am. I won't stop until I see every part of him. Even the parts he keeps locked deep down inside.
I am Number Thirteen, and this is my story. No one said it was pretty, or right, but it's mine.
My boots
crunch in the yellow autumn leaves as I walk towards the schoolyard.
I didn’t want to come today, but Momma told me I had no choice. She
said school is for smart kids, and if I don’t go, then how am I
ever going to get smart? I could get smart, the man on the television
tells me everything I need to know. But she claims that I can’t
make friends with the man on the television, that the only way to
make friends is to go to school. I could have told her that I don’t
need friends to be successful, but she’d only tell me I’m being
silly.
So I came
to school.
I didn’t
tell her that there are bullies here, or that every day they push me
around and shove me into lockers. That would make me sound weak, and
now that my dad is working, and my brother is away because he didn’t
like the school here, I’ve had to become the man of the house.
There’s no room for weakness.
Momma tells
me bullies pick on the kids who are victims. I think she’s wrong.
I’m not a victim; I’m just a kid. They pick on me because I’m
different. I don’t look at the girls like they do; I don’t try to
sneak out to parties. I’m only thirteen. I’m just there to
learn, then I go home and I take care of my family, because, I’m
the man of the house.
Like I
said.
The shrill
sound of the school bell ringing, tells me I’m late. I pick up into
a jog, rounding the corner and into the schoolyard. It’s a cool
winter day, and I have to pinch my coat together to stop it from
flapping in the icy breeze. I can see the students piling in the
front doors, and I turn my jog into a run. I’m focusing so heavily
on the doors, that I don’t see them. A strong hand lashes out,
catching hold of my sleeve and tugging me into the alleyway that runs
down beside my school.
I always
knew this alley was dangerous.
My body is
slammed against a hard wooden fence, and I set eyes on my bullies.
Four of them. They’re all bigger than me, all of them on the
football team. They’re from a few grades up, and they’ve just
turned sixteen. The leader of the group, Marcel, steps forward first.
He scrunches his nose in disgust, as if I’ve just dragged myself
out of a gutter, as if I’m offending him. He leans in
close, and I can smell cigarettes on his breath.
Smoking is
not cool.
“You’ve
been trying to avoid me, Will. Did you really think you could hide at
home with Mommy, and never have to come out again?”
I stare at
him, wondering why he chose me to pick on. I didn’t even know his
name until he flagged me down and shoved my head down a toilet six
months ago. I was just a kid, keeping my head down, studying and
learning like I should. Now here I am, pressed against a fence,
wondering why they decided I was good enough to take extra special
effort to attack. I don’t bother answering him; it’ll only make
him worse. My answers won’t make a difference. If I answer, I’m
wrong. If I don’t answer, I’m wrong.
“Are you
fucking mute, you little cunt?”
My body
jerks. I hate that word, it’s so…vulgar. I let my eyes move to
the four other guys standing like protective pack animals around
Marcel. I don’t know their names; they’re not significant enough.
The tall boy with orange hair looks nervous, like he knows what’s
about to happen could put him in a world of trouble - but he’s
still here, still making the choice to stay. The other two guys are
stony faced, and fully aware of their part in this attack.
I still don’t
answer him. If I just let them beat me, it’ll go away quicker.
“You’re a
freak, Will, do you know that?” Marcel hisses, leaning in
closer.
Of course I
know that. I wouldn’t be pinned against a fence if I didn’t
know that.
Bullies are
so dumb.
Marcel raises
his fist, and brings it down over my face, cracking my nose so hard
blood spurts onto his shirt. I don’t cry out, because that’s what
he wants, but the pain radiating through my head is nearly enough to
make me beg. Nearly. Marcel takes hold of my shirt, and his
grey eyes scan my face. He’s panting, as though I’ve shoved him
into an alley and challenged him. Like this is my fault. The
world is twisted like that, and it’s a lesson I’ve learned the
hard way.
“You know,”
he growls, locking eyes with me. “I heard my girl saying how
handsome you were the other day. Do you know how much it sucks to
have my girl saying that a freak is handsome? Especially a freak
that’s only what? Thirteen years old? Your dick would be no bigger
than a tube of damned lipstick, yet she thinks you’re handsome!”
I wouldn’t
know how much it sucks to have a girl say that, because I don’t
have a girl.
Again,
bullies are dumb.
“Don’t
answer me, you little twerp. It doesn’t matter. I will make sure by
the time you leave this alley; you’re not handsome anymore. I won’t
have my competition being some little weasel that can’t even
speak.”
I taste blood
filling my mouth, and my nose is pounding so heavily I’m almost
sure I can hear my own heart in my head. I don’t take my eyes from
Marcel. They say look danger right in the eye; it gives you power and
strength. I don’t feel powerful right now, in fact, I don’t
really feel anything. Someone like me doesn’t fight, I’m the
underdog, and underdogs are weak. Everyone knows it.
Marcel
reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a pocket knife. The heart
that feels like it’s in my head begins thumping even harder. I try
not to show fear, I try to stand tall and take what he dishes out
with strength, but that’s not so easy when your attacker is waving
around a pocket knife.
“She said
it was your eyes,” he begins, lazily tracing circles on his palm
with the blade. “She said they’re the most stunning eyes she’s
ever seen. Like the ocean.”
I didn’t
know my eyes were like the ocean.
He takes hold
of my shirt, yanking me close. “No one is more appealing to my
girl, than me.”
They say bad
things happen in slow motion, they’re right. I feel Marcel throw me
down onto the floor. I feel every movement as my body slammed into
the dirt. I feel his body weight coming over me, his knees pinning me
down as I squirm. I feel his friend take my arms, pulling them above
my head, while another puts a hand over my mouth. With my nose
pouring with blood, that makes it difficult to breathe.
I feel the
knife ripping into my skin as I thrash my head from side to side, and
I can feel the blood pouring down the sides of my face. Each time he
attempts to stab me, I move and the knife only slices through the
skin around my eye. My pained wails fill the alley, but no one comes
to help me. No one is around in the one moment of my life that I need
them.
I know what
I’ll remember most about that day, and that is the moment he
finally manages to drive the knife into my eye.
I don’t
feel pain, not right away. Instead I hear the popping sound, as his
blade pierces right through. Then I feel pressure as he twists. It’s
only when he yanks it out of its socket, that I start to scream. Then
the pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Words cannot begin to
explain the horror I feel as darkness begins to invade my body. I
know my face is covered in blood, because it drips down to soak my
hair. I know I bite his friends hand so hard I nearly take off his
finger.
I don’t
know what they’re saying, or even acknowledge the moment when they
run away. All I know was that I am bleeding to death in an alley,
missing an eye. Red fills my vision as the blood begins to cover
every part of my face. I know I’m still screaming, even though I
can’t hear it. All I can hear is an excessive ringing in my ears. I
can’t even move my hands to cover my eye, in an attempt to protect
the empty socket. I can do nothing but lay and scream, witnessing a
pain that I’ll never witness again in my life, and wondering what I
did to deserve it.
No one
deserves to die.
But I do die
that day.
And in my
place, a monster is born.
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