COPYRIGHT
Twelve Of Roses by Natalie Bennett
© 2021 by Natalie Bennett. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where the publisher or author specifically grant permission.
Editing by: Pinpoint Editing
Blurb
No one knew the real me—who I was when I was all alone.
They didn’t know how twisted he made me—or how much I liked it.
I never imagined I’d have to relive those days again. How foolish of me to think my life could ever be simple.
The ghost of my past has begun haunting me from beyond the grave, leaving a trail of bodies in their wake.
Each corpse threatens to reveal what I’ve tried to keep hidden.
I know it’s only a matter of time before they arrive on my doorstep.
One way or another, they’ll finish what we started.
Playlist
(Spotify)
Lund—Low
Sasha Sloan—House With No Mirrors
DeathbyRomy—DeathWish
I Prevail—Paranoid
PVRIS—Nightmare
Awaken I Am—Roses
GIRLI—Passive Aggressive
Halsey—Graveyard
Jutes—Bad Dream
Maggie Lindemann—Knife Under My Pillow
Lil Wayne—Psycho
Breaking Benjamin—Wish I May
BMTH—Deathbeds
Contents
COPYRIGHT
Blurb
Playlist
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
EXTENDED EPILOUGE
Chapter Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Author Note
PROLOGUE
“Happy birthday, baby.”
My aunt smiled at me from the end of the table, poised with her smartphone ready to snap a picture.
She looked as gorgeous as she always did, but I knew that twenty minutes into dinner she had lied about needing to use the restroom so she could bump a white line of powder. Her pupils were so dilated, her green hues looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets.
My uncle shoved my half-eaten dish of meatloaf out of the way to make room for the cake decorated with little red roses made of icing. “Hurry up and make a wish.”
He grinned, staring at me in a way no man should ever look at their niece.
His sick smile was a promise of what was to come. My aunt pretended not to see it. That wasn’t anything new. She always chose to ignore his lust-filled looks, just like she did the sounds that came from my bedroom in the middle of the night.
But as disgusting and unfortunate as my situation was, these sad individuals were my family: my uncle, the renowned prosecutor of Brookdale County, and his perfect wife who sat on the HOA board.
On the outside we were picture perfect, all the way down to the golden retriever lounging in the corner. Within the walls of our home was where everything fell apart.
I forced a smile and leaned down to blow my candles out, catching movement in the hall just outside the dining room. I paused, doing a double take. When I realized my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me, I opened my mouth to shout a warning to my aunt.
The man with the gun was quicker than I was.
Digz, having spotted the intruder, jumped up with a snarl. His ill-timed bravery cost him his life. The gun swung his way and discharged. The pained yelp that escaped his mouth would haunt me forever. His furry body hit the wall. Blood sprayed onto the curio cabinet.
My aunt started to screech, covering her face with both hands. She was shot next.a slug blowing a hole cleanly through a portion of her head and hand, scattering little pieces of bone marrow on our solid oak table. My uncle tried to run, earning himself a shot to his chest. He careened into the curio cabinet, where he then fell onto Digz’s lifeless form.
It was all a little too much for me to handle—the grotesque amount of crimson coating the beige walls, the bits of sinew mixing with the meatloaf.
I fell from my chair and scrambled backward, a scream building in my throat. Mindlessly, I backed myself into a corner.
The man turned his attention to where I sat huddled in a ball, hitching the barrel of his gun over his shoulder. Terror coursed through my veins. I wanted to run, but there was a disconnect between my brain and my limbs.
Eyes as dark as night bored into mine, completely void of all emotion except for something akin to hatred.
“Happy birthday, little Rose,” he sneered before disappearing from the doorway and exiting the house through the front door.
Chapter One
Present
Nighttime always weighed me down. There was something about the stillness that made me think about my past.
All the torment we caused so many innocent people…it was catching up to me. The regret was suffocating. I could barely sleep without seeing their faces or his anymore. My parents would be so damn ashamed of me.
I rubbed my temples to help alleviate a headache. My nails were a chewed mess, the vodka bottle was emptied hours ago, and I was down to my last cigarette. I needed a mood stabilizer, something to take the edge off. I needed to get out of the house. I needed a distraction.
Yeah. That was it.
Fresh air and a change of scenery could do wonders. I threw on a short black dress and fuck-me heels, let my ruby red locks hang down to my ass, and left.
Instead of going to one of the finer establishments, I headed straight for the dive bar that sat at the edge of town.
I was a woman on a mission.
That mission was to find a solid body and a large cock to sit on—or a face, but you get my gist. Since I was the new girl around here, I thought it might be best not to seduce one of the well-known locals my first night out.
Molly and I had made a vow that Black Pine would be our last move. We had to establish some stability. For the past few years, we’d been like two leaves letting the wind carry us wherever it pleased.
Readjusting to the normal world hadn’t been a cakewalk for either of us, but I was fairly confident we could live semi-normal lives.
I found myself at Gooskis approximately twenty minutes later. The dive had a slightly run-down appearance, and the name lacked pretension. There was a white sign hanging on the building’s dull gray exterior that read: Here you can drink at 7 A.M.
Only eight other cars sat in the dimly lit parking lot, which was a letdown because it limited that night’s selection. After easing my Camry in a space beside a large pickup, I took a second to get my thoughts in order before getting out.
There was exactly seventy-two dollars and fifteen cents in my bank account. One Hungry-Man was in the freezer, and a loaf of bread I could push one more day past its expiration date was sitting on my counter.
I might not have been able to pay the ga
s bill that month, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t getting myself another strong-ass drink.
My heels were soundless, moving across the dirt parking lot. As I got closer to the entrance of the bar, I could hear a Joan Jett song, raunchy laughter, and a few different conversations. The familiar stench of cigarette smoke lingered right inside the dark entryway where a No Smoking sign hung. I smiled to myself at someone's minor act of rebellion.
The interior of Gooskis looked just like I thought it would. There was a horseshoe bar, neon signs, posters, a few beer banners, and lace panties hung all over the grungy walls. Seeing that the bartender was occupied, I made my way to a booth, scanning the room as I went. A few people were playing a round of pool, a couple sat at the bar, and everyone else was seated at a table.
Tucking my dress, I slid across the leather bench and examined the scuffed wooden tabletop.
“I’ll be right with you, sweetie.” A blonde slid a plastic menu in front of me that had definitely seen better days and waltzed off, leaving behind the smell of cheap perfume.
While assessing the cleanliness of the dive so I knew what and what not to order, I couldn’t help but contemplate my life. I was at an establishment where the taps might not be safe and the beer lines dirty.
Things could have been so much different for me if I’d been a better person. I wouldn’t be in this dump, that was for sure. Some may think I was running from the past, but nothing could be further from the truth. In all honesty, I was saving my ass from the consequences of my actions.
I was a magnet for the reprehensible. Not a single soul in the room knew the kind of havoc that always seemed to surround me or the utter chaos that used to be my life.
My past was centered around one man I had no business falling for. Four years later, and everything still came back to him.
He was always in my head, refusing to vacate my heart. I thought I would mourn him forever, because time never healed the hurt. It just made it easier to live with. It allowed scar tissue to form over the painful memories.
After losing family after family the way I had, you’d think he would be another dead body on the list. At the end of the line, though, he had meant more to me than anyone else. It was his demons that didn’t play well with mine. He put me through hell, and I called it love. My skewed devotion was something he had molded with his bare hands.
I was desperate to reinvent myself in this new town with these new people who had no idea who I was. Like a chameleon, I wanted to blend in.
First step?
Separating the old me from this new me.
Chapter Two
Past
I was leaving the hick town of Ponty-Poole first chance I got.
Life was simple enough here, and I enjoyed living with my grandpa, but there had to be more than trying to work at the local grocery store and raising a family. Plus, people rode around on tractors here. It was like a modern day Little House on the Prairie—minus the gaudy clothing.
I was two weeks into my last ever summer vacation, and trying to figure out what to do with my life was at the forefront of my brain. I was already planning for a shitty senior year. My best friend, Darcy, was forced to move over twenty hours away the day school let out.
That was an automatic default to the dreaded loner status for me. I mean, I had those ‘friends’ that were more like decent acquaintances, but for the most part, I was a hermit.
Tonight was a rare occasion.
I was willingly going outside without dragging my feet. Good thing Grandpa wasn’t present. If he saw this phenomenon, he might have a heart attack.
Ever since I came to live with him, he’d been trying to make his only grandchild somewhat sociable. He always encouraged me to go outside, make some new friends, and even suggested I find a nice boy to occupy my time with. But I didn’t want to do any of that.
The rumor mill made up of childish, cunty bitches had recently discovered my past, and they antagonized me whenever they got the chance.
Their cruel words tore at old scabs until puss spilled out and reminded me of everything I was struggling to forget. The only reason I decided to finally venture out into reality was because it was eleven-thirty at night, and I was craving a cold root beer something fierce.
Since Grandpa was out playing cards, I was left with no other choice than to take Big Rusty. The truck had earned that name through and through. It was a 1984 Ford pickup the color of mineral dirt, with a broken gas gauge and over three hundred something thousand miles. It’d stopped keeping track four years ago, according to Grandpa.
Armed with two couch pillows to help me see over the dash, I walked towards the massive truck, prepared to conquer the beast. I climbed in and adjusted everything so I wouldn’t kill myself out on the road.
With a few quick pumps on the gas pedal he started right up, and I was well on my way to obtaining my refreshment. Twelve minutes later, I immediately regretted my sudden lapse in judgment.
The entire parking lot of the tiny twenty-four hour convenience store was full, people hanging out like it was the hottest night club.
“Seriously?” I sighed and parked as far from the entrance as possible, eyeing the glass doors like I was on a covert ops mission. This was what they all did for fun?
After mentally preparing myself to be leered at by the girls whose denim miniskirts barely covered their asses, and to navigate the murky crowd of fuckboys, I hopped out and quickly made my way across the parking lot.
Eyes trained on the ground.
Chin tucked to my chest.
I made it without incident, and, fortunately for me, the inside of the store was a lot less crowded than the out. I paid zero attention to my surroundings and went straight to the drinks machine, going for the mighty cup that would hold the most soda.
I was firmly in my own zone, happily minding my business, when someone stepped up beside me. From my periphery, I saw a short-sleeve black t-shirt and a large forearm that had been kissed by the sun. He smelled freaking amazing.
The watch on his wrist told me exactly who he was without me having to look at his face. He lived directly across the street from my grandfather, in a ridiculously huge log cabin style house.
I was a little creeper who stared at the man—because Constantine was most definitely not a boy—whenever I got the chance.
Con had a classic lime green muscle car he worked on in his garage. I may or may not have stayed up well past midnight on multiple occasions to get a glimpse of him shirtless and underneath its hood. That’s what made this encounter ten times more awkward. I was positive he’d caught me doing just that the night before.
I almost sighed in relief when the sweet sugary liquid reached the cup’s limit and I was able to move on.
“Excuse me,” I hummed, reaching over to grab a plastic top, staring at the lid holder like it had stolen something from me. Just as I finished clamping the top down and went to turn away, he spoke up.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say you were purposely not looking at me, Rosie.” Amusement colored his tone, and I realized two things at once.
1: His voice was the hottest thing I’d ever heard in my life.
2: He had definitely seen me the night before.
Fuck. My. Life.
“Are you saying you want me to look at you?” Smooth, Roselynn, you fucking loser.
“You’re the best looking girl in this town. I feel honored that you noticed me.”
My God, that was the cheesiest, most cliché thing a guy could say, but because Constantine Burrows said it, it was golden. I had to play it cool, though.
“That’s kind of shallow. There’s more to me than my looks.” And with that, I popped the end of a bendy straw in my mouth and walked away from him, mentally high fiving myself. I had never spoken to him other than a simple hello in passing; I felt a small sense of victory for not falling at his booted feet.
“Juicy, huh?” he said with a chuckle.
The sound sent
a ripple right down my spine. Without acknowledging his strange reply, I went and got in line.
It wasn’t until he stepped up behind me that I realized what he meant. My entire body heated to a record-breaking degree, sending a bright flush across my cheeks. Juicy was the faded word scrawled on the ass part of my pink shorts. I’d had them since middle school, and they still fit. Why get rid of a perfect pair of sleepers?
“Hi Wes,” I greeted Darcy’s ex-boyfriend who was working behind the register, continuing to ignore Constantine.
“Rose! I haven’t seen you in forever. How you been?” He smiled brightly at me. The joy on his face seemed genuine.
“Desperately trying to figure out how to have fun in this town.”
“Well, when you figure that out, let me know too. Speaking of fun, we need to get together sometime. We can go bowling or something.”
We had bowling alleys here?
“That would be cool.” I nodded, sliding my wristlet off to get my money.
“Hey, don’t worry about that. It’s on me.”
“Aw, thank you.” I gave him a quick smile and stepped out of his growing line. I was uncomfortably aware that everyone was staring at me. “I’ll see ya around,” I called over my shoulder, making haste for the exit.
Four steps beyond the door, a strong hand wrapped around my arm, causing me to almost drop my soda.
“Hey! What are you doing?” I questioned as Constantine guided me around a small group of boys.
“I was going to ask you the same thing. What are you doing out so late? Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your friends and doing girly shit?”
“I don’t have many friends here,” I huffed, “and I’m not girly.”
“Hm,” he grunted, unimpressed with my explanation. “And you drove that death trap here?” he checked, nodding his head in the direction Big Rusty was parked. His tone turned cold, like I’d made a personal offense against him.
“It’s not a death trap. It’s just…old,” I defended. Had he not noticed me driving the damn thing around for the past month?
With Darcy gone, I didn’t have much of a choice. My grandfather wasn’t a wealthy man; we made do with what we had, something the Burrows wouldn’t ever have to deal with. That family had a long history of being privileged assholes.
Twelve of Roses: A Dark Standalone Page 1