Scarred

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  The Practical Joke

  "Epilogue"

  Mistake (Breaking the Rules, Book 4)

  My Books

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Check out these other amazing authors as well……

  Tears of Tess by Pepper Winters

  Chapter One- Tears of Tess

  Picture Perfect by Ella Fox

  Ignite by Tessa Teevan

  Scarred

  Copyright © 2014 K. Webster

  Cover Design: K. Webster

  Stock Photo: Crestock.com

  Editor: Mickey Reed

  Formatting: Stacey Blake

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To my mom who wasn’t at all surprised when I became an author and said she always knew I’d do something really special. Thanks for never doubting my abilities.

  Two months earlier

  “That’s a wrap,” James called out to me and the other two girls.

  I was freaking out at the moment because Drake was glaring at me. Earlier, James had pulled my top down a little to “get the right shot.” And even though it had been harmless, I could see that it was sending Drake over the edge. His eyes had grown stormy and furious.

  His well-over-six-foot frame stood hulking off to the side staring menacingly at me. I cowered under his gaze and picked at my nail. Tonight, I am going to pay for it. A tear slipped out and I quickly wiped it away in an effort to not piss him off any further.

  “Did you get some good shots?” James asked, walking over to Drake.

  Drake dragged his gaze away from me down to his camera and started flipping through the photos to show James. They talked quietly and pointed out a few that they really liked. I felt sick to my stomach. Drake wouldn’t let this go easily. He didn’t like when men looked at me, but touching me was absolutely out of the question. A year of being together and I still didn’t know how he would punish me this time.

  When we first met, he’d been so dreamy. My extremely religious mother had disowned me when I’d expressed my wishes to model. After she warned me to never come back, I headed to New York to follow my dream. I was living in crummy conditions with a sketchy roommate, but it was something. It had hurt to leave my younger sister Opal, but I hoped that after some time had passed, my mother would allow me to see her again.

  When Drake and I met at one of my first photo shoots, the air was charged with unique electricity. Immediately after the set, we ended up in the back of his car, where I painfully lost my virginity, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. I’d fallen completely for the handsome devil. Our whirlwind romance began and I moved in with him right away.

  At first, our relationship consisted of making love all hours of the day when we weren’t working. It truly was perfect. But one day, something snapped in him. The sweet, romantic lover of mine turned into a monster. When he hit me for the first time, I was horrified and in shock. He apologized and begged for my forgiveness, but when it happened again a week later, I realized that was who he really was.

  Drake became obsessed with controlling everything about me, down to what I ate and how much. He made my modeling schedule and decided which jobs I would take or not. When it came to sex, it was when he demanded it, wherever he demanded it. If I so much as fouled up a tiny bit, I would get punished.

  He made sure to always hurt me where nobody would see the bruises since I was a model. When he kicked me, it was always on my back, my stomach, or my ribs. My breasts stayed bruised and sore.

  I was dragged from my memories when I saw him stalking towards me. Instinctively, I wanted to flinch away from him but knew better. God, tonight is going to be bad.

  “Let’s get you home, Ollie,” he growled, jerking my hand roughly into his and hauling me out the door.

  My heart started to race. Normally, he would wait until we got home to unleash his rage, but the fact that he could hardly keep it in check right now meant that it was going to be horrible when we got back to our apartment.

  After we settled into his car, he started the engine but didn’t move. Quick as lightning, he backhanded me across the face. I yelped in surprise and put my hand to my eye, which was stinging from the hit. He never touches my face. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what he would do once we got home.

  Will I even make it out alive this time?

  As if sensing my fear, he pulled away and the door automatically locked.

  The drive home was eerily quiet as I worried about what he would do. Once we arrived at the apartment, I considered bolting down the sidewalk, but he would only catch me and things would be even worse. Before I could act on my thoughts, his hand darted out and roughly gripped my bicep, hastily pulling me upstairs. My heart was pounding and I started to sob.

  “Please, Drake. I’m so sorry. I had no idea he would touch me. It wasn’t my fault,” I explained as tears streamed shamelessly down my cheeks.

  He unlocked the apartment door and shoved me inside. I stumbled forward but caught myself and spun around to face him. He had already locked the door behind him and was glaring at me as his chest heaved.

  “Drake, if you love me, why do you hurt me?” I asked, stalling for time.

  He laughed, one without humor, and it chilled my insides. “Ollie, I love you more than life. That’s why I can’t fucking stand to see anyone look at you, much less touch you. Your body belongs to me. You are my property. Why do you fucking flaunt yourself, practically begging for them to touch you?” he demanded angrily.

  “Drake, please. I only love you. Can’t you see that? Please don’t hurt me. Come on, baby. Let’s make love instead,” I begged, trying to change his mind.

  His expression softened, and I prayed he would back down. Hesitantly, I walked over to him and stood on my toes to kiss his lips. As if breaking from a trance, he met my kiss hungrily.

  Grabbing my ass in both hands, he lifted me up to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs hooked his waist. He carried me into our bedroom and set me down on the bed. I quickly undressed for him while he pulled off his ow
n clothes. After scooting farther up the bed, I lay back, waiting for his next move.

  He never did mess around with foreplay anymore and immediately pounced on me. Lining himself up with my opening, he shoved himself in. I was completely dry, so I moaned out in pain but he thankfully thought it was in pleasure. Eventually, it didn’t hurt anymore, and I rubbed his back, thinking that tomorrow I was going run away from him.

  I could feel him about to come so I moaned louder beneath him. “I’m coming,” I cried out, lying to him. His orgasm pumped into me and he collapsed on my chest.

  Soon, I could hear him snoring. Tears silently fell down my face as I thanked God for the bullet I had just dodged.

  I awoke to my arm being pulled roughly. Alarmed, I looked over to see Drake tying my arm to the bedpost. My other arm and legs had already been secured. After he finished, he looked at me hatefully. Crap. He swayed a little, which meant he had been drinking. Crap, crap, crap! He forced a rolled-up sock into my mouth and I tried not to gag. My eyes pled with him.

  “I’m tired of them looking at you. You’re my property, Ollie. Can’t you see that? It’s time for there to never be a question ever again,” he spat cryptically.

  Tears were a steady stream now as I wriggled to no avail. When he pulled a knife from the bedside table, I started shuddering as sobs racked my body.

  Straddling my naked body, he slowly dragged the knife across my belly, tickling the flesh. Goose bumps spread over my skin. My chest was heaving wildly as I feared what he was about to do.

  Without any warning, he dug the knife into the flesh of my belly underneath my breasts. I screamed into the sock in agony as he carved my skin. He was quiet and determined, immune to my muffled wailing. It felt like he was slicing a word across my stomach. My vision was blurry as the pain threatened to make me pass out. I worried that, if I did, he would finish the job and kill me.

  He stopped for a moment and I cried out, relieved for a reprieve from the pain. Then just below, he began carving again, but this time a shorter word. My body was drenched in sweat but a shiver kept running over me.

  When he started again, the knife dug into the flesh below my belly button and I screamed through the shock. It hurt worse in that supersensitive area and I actually blacked out momentarily. When I came back to, he was standing beside me, checking out his handiwork. He pulled the sock from my mouth and I immediately felt bile rising in my throat.

  “Drake, I am about to be sick,” I choked out right before I start gagging.

  He quickly untied me and carried me to the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before I start vomiting. This went on until I was dry heaving stomach acid. I heard him exit the bathroom.

  I was afraid to inspect the damage across my torso. It hurt so much, but all I could think about was how I was going to escape from here alive. My body collapsed to the floor and I shivered again uncontrollably. His feet appeared in my line of vision and I flinched.

  A sudden kick to my stomach had me howling in pain. I can’t take any more of this from him! Thankfully, the kick was the only one he delivered and he stumbled back to the bedroom. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain ripped through my lower belly. When I looked down, I noticed that I was bleeding everywhere from the cuts. I needed to get to a hospital soon.

  Summoning some strength, I crawled towards the bathroom door and peeked my head out. He was sprawled out face-first on the bed, snoring. I shakily pulled myself to my feet but doubled over from the pain, grabbing the doorframe to keep from falling. I shuffled over to my clothes and put them on as fast as I could, pausing every few seconds to breathe deeply through the agonizing burn both outside and in my belly.

  When he groaned, I almost yelped in fear but continued my task by finally slipping on my shoes. I hobbled into the living room, pulling my coat on and grabbing my purse. The door closed behind me, and I half-ran, half-stumbled in the direction of the hospital.

  “Miss Redding?” a gentle voice asked, pulling me from a deep sleep.

  I blinked my eyes open to see an older woman with kind eyes staring over me.

  Where am I?

  “Sweetie, I’m Dr. Winston. Can you tell me what happened to you?” she asked softly.

  My eyes darted around the room and I sighed in relief when I noticed that he wasn’t there. I must have made it to the hospital somehow.

  “Um, my boyfriend hurt me,” I choked out, tears forming in my eyes.

  “Yes, young lady. He certainly did. Is there someone we can call?” she asked.

  I shook my head sadly, which caused her to frown. She pulled my hand into her own and looked at me with such compassion. My heart nearly broke in half.

  “Miss Redding, we cleaned the lacerations and stitched up the deep ones but I’m afraid you’ll have some scarring,” she sighed.

  I didn’t care at this point because I was free from him.

  She bit her lip as she contemplated her next words. Her hand quickly squeezed mine. “And I’m afraid you lost the baby,” she told me.

  Baby? What baby? “I’m sorry but I wasn’t pregnant,” I informed her. Her frown told me I was wrong.

  “Honey, you were just two months along, but trauma to your abdomen, most likely from a kick, caused you to miscarry. I’m so sorry,” she whispered, squeezing my hand again.

  Tears slipped out as I mourned the loss of an innocent being. A being I couldn’t protect. My sobs took over and Dr. Winston enveloped me in a motherly hug, making me mourn the loss of my own mom as well.

  The hospital released me the very next day, and I limped along, wondering where I would go. Feeling very winded, I slipped into a café and sat down at the first table. Tears start falling down my face and I tried viciously to stop them to no avail. When a blond-haired beauty took the seat in front of me, I couldn’t help but look at her.

  “Babe, you look like shit. Are you okay?” she asked gently. When I shook my head, she scooted her chair beside me and pulled me in for a hug.

  Who is this sweet stranger?

  “I’m going to make you my special coffee and get you some soup. You stay right here,” she instructed and bounced off, going behind the counter. Moments later, she brought me what she promised. “Now spill, sweetie,” she gently instructed me.

  I took a few bites of my soup. “Well, my boyfriend hurt me. Really, really hurt me. I’ve managed to escape from him. Now I’m trying to figure out my next move,” I explained sadly.

  Decision crossed her features as she prepared herself for her next words. “You’re coming home with me. My roommate and I have an extra room. You don’t have to pay us anything. Honey, we’re going to take care of you,” she assured me matter-of-factly.

  Tears formed again and I nodded. I wanted nothing more than for this sweet, angelic girl to take care of me.

  “I’m Andi,” my heroine said, finally introducing herself.

  “Olive,” I greeted back, smiling a genuine smile for the first time in quite some time.

  She grabbed my hand and our friendship began.

  “I want you to come to my party tomorrow night,” Andi declared genuinely from the chair on the other side of my desk.

  I took a moment to admire her beauty. Her long blond hair was ironed perfectly straight today and had an ethereal glow to it. I’d forever punish myself for that one stupid fuck-up last spring.

  “Ugh, I don’t know. Your boyfriend hates me,” I reminded her, crossing my arms as I leaned back in my chair.

  She frowned and her bottom lip stuck out a little. “Please, Bray. Dr. Sweeney thinks it would be best if you and I could learn to be friends. Friends go to each other’s birthday parties. He also said Jackson especially needed to make an effort with you.”

  Today she was wearing a button-up blouse with the first two undone, allowing her cleavage to peek out. I made her this way. My weak moment with that bimbo Steph from college had turned Andi into this woman I hardly knew. It almost seemed like punishment to have to work with her every day while she
was scantily dressed, fucking the guy in the office next door. But I deserve it.

  Sighing, I finally smiled at her and she squealed in excitement. The way her face lit up reminded me of a time when we were once together, making my heart physically hurt from the memory.

  “Yeah, Andi. I’ll be there. I know I’m looking forward to hanging out with my buddies Pepper and Jackson,” I teased.

  Sticking her tongue at me, she tossed a folder at me and papers spilled out over my lap. “Ha! That’s what you get for being a dick. Just come on over after work. Do you remember how to get there?” she questioned and her cheeks immediately reddened.

  It wasn’t long ago that I’d falsely hoped we would get back together. We’d both been hot and heavy for each other until she called me Jackson. Kind of killed the mood. But for as much as I was wounded, I really only wanted her to be happy. Even if that meant she was with another man.

  “Yeah, I’ll be there,” I promised and she bounced out of my office. Shaking my head, I dove back into my work.

  The newest design I was working on was a tricky one. A developer wanted to tear down an existing building and erect a state-of-the-art apartment complex complete with a parking garage. The problem was space. The area I had to work with was long and unusually narrow. I had almost figured out how it could work and still be badass like my client had requested.

  When my cell rang, I cringed when I saw it was my mother. If I ignored it, she would just keep calling until I answered. And if I answered, I would be stuck on the phone for quite a while with her. Either way, it was always a pain when she called me during my workday. Deciding to just get it over with, I swiped it to accept the call.

  “Hey, Mom,” I answered as I continued to work on my computer, tweaking my design.

  “Bray, how are you doing today?” she asked happily into the phone. Her tone was a little too chipper, and I braced myself for what was coming.

  “I’m doing fine, Mother. Work has been super busy and I’m trying to finish up a project for one of my clients. Did you need something?”

  “How’s Andi doing?” she asked, cutting to the chase. This was where the conversation went almost every single time we talked.