by B C Morgan
You Never Knew Me
The Never Series Book 1
BC Morgan
Copyright © 2020
BC Morgan
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stores or transmitted in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
BC Morgan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
BC Morgan has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
First edition
Created with Vellum
To Savannah, this book wouldn’t exist without you. Thank you for giving me the courage to try something new and for always being there.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
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Glossary
Thank You
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
They made my life a living hell, for as long as I can remember. I could try to pretend that it doesn’t bother me any longer, that the wounds have healed and all is forgotten, but it’s not going to happen. They thought they’d broken me, and I was done and out but I’m back now and this time, they won’t win.
Growing up in the wrong part of London should have given me the advantage over them all, but for the longest time I had my brother to look after me. His friends made sure no one dared to look at me the wrong way and I loved them, my guardians and protectors, our brothers by choice not blood. I was only seven, but you couldn’t fake that kind of care and love. until it all disappeared.
He was fifteen when it happened, I can remember it all so clearly. The day my world ended; I may not have died but I’ve lived in hell ever since.
“Elliott, please don’t go. You promised you would teach me how to ride a stunt bike, please,” I begged, using my puppy dog eyes and my sugar sweet voice that he always struggled to refuse.
“I won’t be gone long, I promise pipsqueak I’ll show you all my tricks when I get back.”
“I’ll tell mum and dad,” I threatened, and he dragged his hand down across his face.
“No, you won’t. Remember what I said, we always look out for one another and we never break our trust. Cause then I won’t trust you any longer, is that what you want?” he asked, knowing I would fold instantly.
Looking back, I wish I had run and told my parents, maybe then none of this would have happened. But hindsight is a cruel mistress, and I didn’t.
He smiled down at me knowing he had won, before picking me up and spinning me around without a care in the world.
“I love you pipsqueak no matter what happens, never forget that okay. Now be good and I’ll be home soon.” He gave me a wet kiss that turned to a raspberry on my cheek, before he climbed out of my bedroom window.
One last wink before he disappeared from my line of sight. I ran to my window and watched as he climbed into Devon’s car and drove right out of my life for the last time.
The police were at our door a few hours later. I remember coming down the stairs as my mother fell apart, screaming at the officers. My dad insisted that Elliott was upstairs in his room and that it had to be a terrible mistake. He looked to me as though I was the only one who could save this day, and my face crumpled. He stared at me, and soon he too was on the ground, rocking with my mother as their hearts shattered across the floor— our entire world was over.
One death destroyed our family, but it wasn’t just one death to me. Three of my brothers died that day, one went to prison and one lay in a hospital bed with little chance of ever waking back up.
This is how my story began and how the hell that was to become my life kickstarted, I thought things could never get any worse, until we moved, and I have no idea how I have survived for this long.
One
My mum couldn’t bear to stay in London after what happened to Elliott. I didn’t know the ins and outs of it, my parents tried to keep it from me. I just knew he had died. Devon was blamed, and Asher would more than likely spend the rest of his life in the hospital. His parents wouldn’t shut him off, thank fuck, but the doctors told them that he would probably never awaken. It wouldn’t do any good to feed them false hope.
So, we moved away. My dad found a job in a law firm closer to our new home, and even though I screamed and begged them to change their mind it was of little use. They thought moving us to Northampton would keep me safe and stop history from repeating itself. Only, I think it was the biggest mistake they could have ever made.
I started primary school and the kids were okay, there were a few mean ones to say the least, but I kept to myself. I made a few friends but it didn’t matter, we never stayed anywhere long enough for real attachments to be formed. My mum took a bad turn and she became addicted to painkillers, before moving on to stronger things. By the time I hit eleven and was ready to move up to secondary school we moved again.
At seventeen years old, and after changing schools for the umpteenth time, my father felt it was unfair to keep uprooting me, and they sent me off to Padstow Academy, a boarding school, to finish my education. I could go home for the holidays, but I was set to stay here until I did my A-levels and decided whether I wanted to go the college or university route. As if they cared what I actually wanted. So here I am in yet another school and all I want is to go back to London and confront Devon. Everything went wrong when I was seven and I’m ready to discover why it happened and maybe then my parents will finally be able to sort their shit out. I’m barely holding it together most days and I still feel like I’m the only one who can function in this new reality. Doesn’t matter that it’s been ten years, it still feels new, painful and as though I can’t always catch my breath. Because even now, I still can’t believe that he would have put my brother or any of their friends in harm’s way.
The first person I meet is some stony faced girl who clearly doesn’t want to be here, maybe we’ll get along great, but I know that won’t happen. Ever since Elliott died, I no longer form attachments, friends mean very little to me and loneliness is my best friend.
“Yo, new girl. Follow me and keep up, I won’t be coming back for you, if you get lost.”
Yet another reason why I don’t form friendships. Girls are bitches and guys always leave
, and the worst part is never truly knowing why.
“Take it down a notch yeah love, I didn’t ask for a chaperone so move along if you want to.”
“Wow, am I not good enough for the little princess? Oh please forgive me your majesty,” she says with an exaggerated bow.
I love her style, but I hate her attitude. She has a pixie cut, but it’s edgy, I can’t see anyone calling this chick cute. Our uniform is a black pleated skirt, cream blouse and emerald green blazer with the school crest sitting just above the left breast. And she is wearing it alright, but with a pair of army boots and tights with deliberate tears travelling up her thighs. Her makeup is dark, and she has piercings travelling up the entirety of her left ear.
She’s standing here with her hands crossed over her chest and a dark look in her eyes. Was I actually supposed to reply to her comment, because I’m not about to get into a bitch fest with the first girl I meet.
“I’m nobody’s princess and honestly, I’m not here to make friends. But I would reconsider being a student guide if this is the way you treat the new students.” That earns me an eye roll before she starts walking again. I make sure to keep pace, but I refuse to rush, I’m not here to be a people pleaser.
I see it like jail, I’m here to do my time and then I’m out of here, and my parents can shove off if they think I’m going to return home with my tail between my legs.
“Oh honey, I’m only doing this so I could get out of detention. Punch a few girls in the face and suddenly you’re the bad guy. Anyway, you’re in here. We may be sharing the same class in the morning, but don’t sit with me and definitely do not speak to me.”
She pushed her way into the classroom, and I follow in behind. I can feel everyone’s eyes latch onto me and I have to fight the urge to run and hide. Instead, I keep my head held high as I walk over to the teacher.
“Ahhh yes Miss Monterey, take a seat somewhere and you can collect all of the relevant materials you will need for today from the library. I’ll be sure to have Miss Carmichael escort you there as well.” She shoos me away, and I sit down as close to the back of the class as I can.
I can already hear the whispering begin, wondering who I am and what brought me here so suddenly? There’s a row of seats at the back that are already claimed by what I can only describe as the ‘beautiful people’.
Every school seems to have them, no matter which county or even country you call home. I’ve always taken to calling them Shepherds, because no matter where they go there is always a flock of sheep trailing behind them, begging for any scraps they may decide to grant them. They don’t care who they hurt or offend, or how their actions may impact on someone else. They only ever look out for number one or whoever can help them to rise even higher than they currently are.
A five second cursory glance, that’s all it takes for me to peg them for the Shepherds of this school. My first day, and I’m thrown right into studying, sitting mock exams so the teachers can see how well we are faring so far. Grades mean very little to me, but if I ever want to land myself a decent job and to get away from the parents, then I’m going to need to at least graduate.
These aren’t proper mock exams, they cover a wide range of subjects, simply just to test our aptitude, and the only way to get out of this damn school is to get C or above. I’ve always believed that if you aim low then you can’t disappoint yourself, not very optimistic but it hasn’t steered me wrong yet. There’s no way I’ll be walking out of here without A’s but that’s neither here nor there.
It’s not long before the pixie bitch is leading me towards the library, and I feel the first stirrings of excitement just imaging how many books they will have crammed within its walls. I stopped being interested in anything that would get your blood pumping after Elliott. No more stunt bikes, ice skating, being in a car while someone pushed the speed limit, nothing brought me joy. Except for reading, it was the only thing that brought me out of myself, ironically because I could be on my own and lose myself in a better world.
“You’re on your own, try not to step on too many of us little people on your first day.” With that last bitchy remark, she turns on her heels and marches down the hall and away from me.
I don’t understand all her anger towards me, none of us here are what would be classed as poor. Although I doubted most of these kids (students?) had ever seen the poor way of life. We came from one of the roughest parts of London; gang violence, break ins and people getting stabbed for looking at someone the wrong way. We grew up utterly broke, it’s only because my father moved and got made a partner that I’m here, and the fact that a grandfather I never even knew up and died then left everything to us.
I have a nice little inheritance waiting for me when I finish school—yet another reason why I have to graduate—I won’t get it if even one grade slips below a C. And I don’t want my mum to get it and have even more ways of screwing up her body.
So yeah, I’m bitter, hurt and angry with the world. But this library will be my own personal haven, I can just feel it.
English has always been my favourite, that and science, but maths is nothing more than a necessary evil. I’m smart, always have been and I’m not bragging. I don’t exactly make my intelligence public knowledge, but people find it hard to be around me. I’ve been bullied my entire life. Elliott kept me safe, but I no longer have a line of defence, and no matter where I go someone always tries to break me. A photographic or eidetic memory makes it impossible for me to forget anything, unless I take something a little less legal or age appropriate. So, yeah, bullies love a girl like me.
It has always been a waste of time, you can’t break something that’s already broken beyond repair but I keep my mouth shut and roll with the punches. It rarely ever got physical before, but the people here feel different. I don’t know what it is but there’s a suffocating feel to the air and the Shepherds are stealing all the oxygen.
The Shepherds group here is made up of three girls; two are blonde and one has honey brown hair. They’re the top girls here, and they have what I call their ‘apprentices’ or better yet, clones. I haven’t even made an effort to learn what their names are. Every class had a handful of students gossiping about them, didn’t take a genius to put the names to the faces.
Then you have the guys, and damn, if they weren’t Shepherds, I would have definitely enjoyed looking at them at every opportunity, but it isn’t going to happen. Not sure what their names are, there hasn’t been any whispering around those yet, but everyone is silent when they walk in a room. I don’t want people like that in my life, I don’t have the time or energy that it would take to keep any kind of relationship going with them.
I’m in the canteen at the moment, staring at the lasagne on my plate and wondering why I even picked it, oh yeah because it was his favourite and I’m feeling even more morose today then I usually do.
“Hello there, I’m Chelsea and I thought I would take this opportunity to welcome you to my,” she pauses on a laugh, “I mean our school.” She holds out her hand to me and I’m just standing here staring at it.
She has shoulder length, impossibly straight, platinum blonde hair. Her cheeks have a light pink tint to them, and her face has been contoured to perfection. She has crystal blue eyes, rimmed in long lashes and eyebrows that have been over plucked, in my opinion.
Her blouse is straining at the chest and she clearly pushes it out at any given moment, she’s even doing it now. Five-four if I had to hazard a guess and petite. She looks like a china doll, but her eyes are so cold I can imagine she had broken more people than she could remember.
“Look cheese girl, I’m offering you an olive branch right now. So do the right thing and shake my hand with a smile and think about how lucky you are to have someone like me trying to be nice to a nobody like you.”
I stand up from my seat, grab the back of her hand and push it down. Her jaw starts ticking and her eyes narrow, I don’t think she likes my handshake, oh no.
�
��Listen here Chelsea, I don’t care who you are, and I don’t want anything you have to offer. So run back to your friends and plot my social demise because I don’t care. I don't want to be the only good deed you do this year, and the last thing I would ever want to do is join your circle. I’m here to finish my education and then simply move on. I don’t have time for friends.”
I sit back down as the whole canteen stares at us, I wasn’t mean, not really. I was truthful, I don’t want anything to do with her and the Shepherds so why doesn’t she just run along and go back to her friends?
She walks back to her lunch table and I can hear her voice taking on a squeaky tone. I could have been a lot worse, but I don’t set out to hurt people who haven’t hurt me, not yet anyway.
I continue pushing my lasagne around my plate and a shadow falls across my table, I sigh before looking up into the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen.
Impossibly thick, dark lashes line those glorious eyes and I’m instantly jealous, not that my appearance is high on my list of priorities, but it takes so much mascara for my eyelashes to even look half as thick. He has a strong jaw, an aquiline nose, with a distinct crook hinting at a break in the past. His hair is the colour of dark chocolate-brown and damn, is he gorgeous.
His uniform is the same as mine, only with a pair of black trousers and an emerald green sweatshirt instead. His arms fill out the material nicely, and I have to fight the urge to lick my lips. He really is a sight for sore eyes, but any stirrings I may feel never last long, excitement doesn’t exist for me any longer.