A Life Less Broken

by Margaret McHeyzer

  A Life Less Broken

  By

  Margaret McHeyzer

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Pre-Prologue

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  THE END

  CRISIS HOTLINE NUMBERS

  More from me

  Monsters can only scare us until we find our strength

  ***Warning – contains distressing content***

  Pre-Prologue

  The Monsters

  “So what do you guys think we should feast on this weekend?” We’re at the local steak house and I look over my shoulder to make sure no one can hear us.

  “I’ve got a taste for brunette,” one of the guys says as he cracks a peanut out of its shell and pops it into his mouth.

  “We had three brunettes in the past two weeks. Can’t we have something more exotic? I’d like a sweet-smelling Asian cunt,” says our fearless leader.

  I burst into laughter. He loves the Asian girls. He told us once that there’s something cathartic for him about watching their faces as their flesh rips open. He said that the images of slashing them after he’s fucked them, calms him for a few days and he can work better.

  “What?” he says as he looks over at me.

  “You and the Asians,” I laugh. “Always the Asians.”

  “Fuck you, cunt. You love ‘em too, so I wouldn’t go saying too much.”

  I shake my head and chuckle again. He’s right, though. I do like an Asian cunt, those girls are fierce in the sack. They love it, they scream for more and more, I know when I get the knife out and start playing they go absolutely wild for it.

  Mmmm, yeah I could go for an Asian pussy this weekend.

  “Asian take-out?” I ask as I palm myself as discreetly as I can under the table. I don’t want the boys knowing that I got a hard-on thinking about slicing a girl this weekend while she’s being fucked hard in the ass. Oh yeah baby.

  “We haven’t had a strawberry blonde for a while.”

  Hmmm, I think back to the last lot of girls and there was that high school girl. She was hot, and a virgin. The way she bled was just so damn beautiful.

  “Hey,” one of the boys says and snaps me out of my fantasy. “We’ve decided we want a strawberry blonde, but not that flaming red hair. She’s gotta be small, with a tight, tight ass.”

  I nod my head.

  I know what they want, I’ll find them the perfect girl. Like always.

  I take my vial out of my jacket pocket and hold it in the palm of my closed fist as I stand, “I’ll be back in a minute, I’ve got an appointment with my nose,” I say as I tap it and start sniffing.

  “That shit’s gonna kill ya,” one of the boys says.

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  I walk to the bathroom and start to think where I’m going to find the strawberry blonde they want.

  I’m sure I’ll find something around the shopping center. I’ll just have to watch and wait.

  ***Warning – contains distressing content***

  Prologue

  Why I am the way I am

  “Police have identified the body found buried in a shallow grave as sixteen-year-old Trisha Mackenzie. Trisha went missing six days ago while walking home from school. The coroner has yet to confirm the cause of death; however, there are unconfirmed reports that Trisha suffered tremendous and horrific abuse…”

  My cell phone rings and I silence the radio so I can answer it.

  “Hello?” I notice it’s a private number.

  “Allyn, I can’t come in today.”

  “What do you mean you can’t come in to work today?” I ask Jolene whose coughing and spluttering on the other end of the phone.

  “Can’t you hear how sick I am, Allyn? I gotta go,” she says as I hear her begin to retch.

  She hangs up and I stare at the cell phone in my hand. Fuck, Thursdays are always busy in the clothing store and I know I’m going to get hammered today.

  I call Jason, the owner, to see if he can find a replacement for Jolene. Maybe I can borrow someone from one of his other stores. I’ve had three girls out sick this week, which leaves only me to work both shifts today.

  I speed dial Jason’s number. I hate talking to him; he seems angry all the time. I let it ring and pray my call goes to voice mail. But he picks up on the fourth ring and sounds pissed off.

  “Don’t tell me you’re sick too?” he spits into the phone, angrier than usual.

  “No I’m not, but Jolene called in sick, and that leaves just me in the shop today. Can you get another girl to come in and help, please? We’re usually so busy on Thursdays.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but this virus is sweeping through all my stores. Go in, open up and if I can’t get help, I’ll come in by about lunchtime.”

  “Okay, I can handle it for a few hours. See you soon, Jason.” He doesn’t say anything else, he disconnects the call and I go to finish getting ready for my shift.

  I catch the 8:05 a.m. bus that drops me directly in front of the store. It’s on the outside edge of the local shopping center, down the side and to the back a little, and even though it’s out of the way, it still gets a fair bit of traffic.

  When I get to the store, I squat down and unlock the front roller door, then the glass door before going in and turning the alarm off. I temporarily lock the front door from the inside so I can get the float ready and run the morning reports I need before I’m due to open at 9:00 a.m.

  I look outside from the counter as I’m double checking the float, and notice the clouds have closed in quickly as the sky is dark and looks eerily threatening.

  I get a small, uneasy feeling in my stomach and a frisson of electricity shoots up my spine as I look around to see if there’s someone watching me. My body is covered in goose bumps and a huge lump sits in my throat.

  There’s something off today, something that’s not quite right. It’s almost as if a sixth sense is telling me to look over my shoulder, and to be wary.

  I clip the store’s small personal alarm onto my jeans pocket and know if something happens, I only need to press it and a distress signal will go to the alarm company monitoring the store.

  As I unlock the door to open the store for business, I take a cautious look around me to see if there’s something that draws my attention. But I don’t see anything other than the normal foot traffic and people walking around, minding their own business.

  By lunchtime, I’m totally inundated with customers. A few racks of new clothing have come in, now sitting in the store room waiting for me until I get a moment to organize them.

  The store phone rings just after 12:30 p.m., and even though I’m behind the counter helping a customer, I know I need to answ
er it.

  “Excuse me please,” I politely say to the customer, and reach to grab the persistently ringing phone.

  “Of course.” She smiles at me and I answer it.

  “Rose’s Fashions, Allyn speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Allyn, it doesn’t look like I’ll make it ‘til closer to four, I’m swamped and there’s no way I can get there,” Jason says gruffly.

  Shit. I’m going to have to just keep going on my own.

  “Alright, as soon as you can would be great.”

  “I’ll try and get there sooner, but you’d better not plan on me getting there before four.”

  “See you soon.”

  I hang up and return to the customers in the store. The day is a complete whirlwind. I haven’t stopped from the moment I got here. Customer upon customer, delivery after delivery, and phone calls that don’t stop.

  By 3 p.m., the shop finally clears and I get a chance to catch my breath and just sit for a moment. I get my sandwich and juice from the fridge in the staff break room and sit behind the counter to eat my lunch.

  As I eat, I pay particular attention to the rapidly building gray clouds and notice that the darkness of the morning never really subsided. We didn’t get rain or wind yet, but it’s been an unrelentingly gloomy, dreary day. I feel as if I’m waiting for some unstable, dangerous force to make itself known.

  That feeling of foreboding I had earlier is started to creep over me again, and little by little it’s gotten stronger.

  The tingle at the back of my neck returns, like millions of tiny sparks flying to touch every nerve ending in my body.

  My mouth is suddenly dry and it’s difficult to swallow.

  My heart suddenly thrums at a pace that could rival a healthy hummingbird.

  Something is definitely off, but I don’t know what. I look at the time on the computer and see it’s 3:20 p.m. Only forty more minutes and Jason will be here. I’ll feel safer when he’s here with me, but right now, I feel like something awful is going to happen.

  Lost amid my thoughts of warnings and fear, the bell over the door startles me and a really cute guy walks in. He eyes me, and for a moment I give him a cute, flirty smile. I put my sandwich down and stand to go to him.

  “Hi there, I’m Allyn. Can I help you?” I ask. Damn, he really is cute, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four. He’s tall, with dark brown hair that’s a little shaggy, a strong, chiseled chin and gorgeously dark, almost black eyes. His eyes are so dark that they’re captivating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such intensity before. They’re slightly bloodshot, but even so, he’s really quite a good-looking man.

  “My girlfriend sent me in to buy a dress she saw at one of your other stores. Apparently it’s new, just came in today. But the store she went to didn’t have her size.”

  “I just got in some new stock. If you know which dress and what size she needs, I can go take a look.”

  “That’ll put me in her good books if you can. Um, she said it was blue and fitted over one shoulder with a strap thing that goes around her waist. She said she’s a size ten.” He looks at me like he has no idea.

  I chuckle to myself and shake my head. “I’ll go out the back and look, give me a minute. I haven’t had a chance to look at the new colors or styles yet.”

  “Sure, take your time.”

  I leave him and check that the till is locked before I go into the store room, which is next to the staff break room. I open the door and look through the racks quickly but can’t see any blue dresses matching his description.

  I don’t get a chance to leave the room.

  I hear them.

  I don’t see them.

  A cold and terrifying panic envelops me like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

  All my earlier feelings of dread are magnified.

  I try to scream, but something covers my face.

  And I’m out.

  “Roll the bitch over,” a deep gravelly voice says.

  My body hurts. My head is aching. I feel sick.

  I try to open my eyes to see where I am, and when I do I get punched in the face repeatedly. I feel something crack and when I try to scream I’ve got something stuffed in my mouth so my voice is muted.

  I can’t see them because I can’t properly focus. They’re faceless. There’s no feature I can focus on. I’m so groggy and I just can’t make out their faces.

  One of them pulls my bottom cheeks apart and holds me open.

  And another one savagely tears into me.

  Blood drips into my eye, stopping the little vision I have.

  I try to fight, but my legs are tied open and my arms are roped to two posts above my head.

  They’re laughing as they’re raping me.

  I try to scream again, but only a muffled, desperate sound comes out of me.

  “Shut that cunt up, will ya, Mick,” the first voice grates. I notice a distinct twang in his voice, almost like a country singer. He rolls the N in his word, his tongue stays connected with the roof of his mouth for just a moment too long.

  I struggle to move as much as I can, until a punch to my head sends me to a painless place.

  Black.

  I try to blink my eyes open, but I can’t see. Everything hurts, even my eyelids. I can’t open them more than a tiny slit.

  I’m lying face down, and it’s so cold.

  I try to move my head, but I can’t. It’s being restrained by something. My arms, too. Nothing is moving. I feel completely weighed down, immobile. Unprotected.

  I can’t see. I can’t move.

  I can’t.

  Where am I?

  It’s black.

  I try to blink.

  Why am I lying on grass? Why am I wet? Is there water around me?

  I don’t know where I am.

  “Help.” My voice is tiny, hoarse. I can’t even hear me.

  I try to move but can’t. It’s hopeless. I can’t even feel anymore.

  “Help.” Nothing more than a small sigh escapes past my lips.

  Am I dead? Is this hell?

  “Fuck me, it’s a woman! Call 911!”

  Black.

  Chapter 1

  Three Years Later

  Did I lock the door?

  Are the windows shut and locked?

  Where’s my panic button? Fuck, where’s my panic button? Where the fuck is my damn panic button?

  I check my pockets and it’s not there. Is it around my neck? Nope.

  The sudden lump in my throat prevents me from swallowing. My hands start shaking and my body is immediately smothered in a blanket of cold goose bumps. Where is my panic button? Why can’t I find it? I need it. Who took it?

  My entire frame freezes.

  Have they come back?

  What if they took it?

  Are they here?

  I can’t breathe. Black spots cloud my vision. I gasp for breath, my fingers tightening around my throat. I stiffen.

  Fuck, they are here!

  Where’s my damn panic button?

  I reach out to lean against the wall before I fall, and I see it.

  There’s my panic button, on the hallway table.

  I reach over to where it lies, innocently waiting for me.

  The moment my fingers touch it, my body calms. I allow myself to relax. I’m alright.

  They aren’t here. They didn’t come back to finish me off.

  I’m not dead.

  I wish I was.

  I survived them and what they did to me. Not without scars though. They ruined me. They broke me, both mentally and physically. The voices inside my head tell me I’m crazy. And I listen to them, because they’re right.

  It’s been one thousand and nineteen days since they destroyed my former life. They took me, gang-raped me, and nearly murdered me. They left me disfigured, inside and out. Most days, I wish they had killed me.

  I’ll never have a child of my own. I’ll never be able to see more than blurs out of my left eye. The top of m
y right ear was bitten off. My body is scarred everywhere.

  They took me to a pond and dumped me in the water. They thought I’d sink. They thought I’d drown.

  But I didn’t. Somehow, I made it to the shore and laid there for I don’t know how long. A couple going for a walk finally found me and called 911.

  For ten months, I was in the hospital.

  My pelvis was completely shattered. My spleen needed to be removed. My collar bones were smashed. Both my legs were broken, in four different spots. My arms were dislocated from the shoulders and both forearms were snapped. My nose was crushed. My left eye socket was completely shattered. There were bite marks and other scars from having my skin torn open with knives.

  There are no mirrors in my house. I had them all taken out before I arrived home from the hospital. I also had bars installed on all the windows, replaced my doors with double reinforced steel inside the wood and had a state-of-the-art alarm system put in before I set foot back in here.

  Now this is my sanctuary…and my prison.

  My very own heaven and my own personal hell.

  I breathe deeply to regain my control, or what little I have that hasn’t been consumed by the disabling fear, and I go back to doing my usual security checks.

  I look down at my hand and grip the panic button like it’s my life raft in a perfect storm.

  Did I check the windows?

  Are the doors locked?

  I may have already checked them before my mini panic attack, but I’ll do it again. I need to be sure.

  My legs are shaky and my heartbeat’s still thrumming away at an impossibly rapid rate, but moment by moment, I begin to calm. This panic attack was more like a small hiccup, not one of my more debilitating episodes that can last hours, days, or sometimes weeks.