Hurt Like Me

by P. A. Brokenshire

  Copyright © 2021 by P.A. Brokenshire

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First eBook and paperback edition May 2021

  18+ This book includes graphic depictions of sex as well as dark topics that may trigger some readers. This is a work of fiction and as such certain sexual actions and behaviors in this book are not condoned in everyday life. Read at your own discretion.

  Prologue

  Garrett - Present

  “Stop it! You're just trying to hurt me!" She screamed at me, covering herself with the dress that was now coated in dirt from the dock. “We can make this work. I can help you.”

  I struggled with my pants, trying to button them as the voice in my head screamed.

  “No one can help you. No one will ever be able to fix you. You’re broken.”

  "You can’t fucking help me!" I snarled the words at her as she looked up at me with wide eyes, tears filled them. Tears for me.

  Those eyes didn't just look at me, they looked through me. I wanted to hold her, press her to me, and accept her comfort like I had done the night before. I wanted to give the comfort she so craved in return, but this had gone too far. I couldn't bring her down to my level only for her to discover how much more of a monster I could be. I'd done a lot of terrible things in my life, things that would kill most people. Sometimes I wish they had killed me.

  I wasn't a good man. I was full of rage, of pain. Not worth the faith her father gave me, or the understanding that showed in her eyes. I could hurt her. I had proven that 10 years ago. Hurt came to me so easily. It was something that seeped from my soul, rotted my bones. It was a part of me. Easy. Easier than forgiveness, than acceptance, than love. I could give her that much. I could make her hurt again even if it cost me my redemption. I was doomed long ago anyway.

  With the button on my slacks finally latched, I ran for the path and headed directly to the truck. I started the engine and pulled abruptly out of the driveway. I drove straight towards my undoing.

  Chapter 1

  Garrett-10 years ago

  Another party, another drink, another joint, another girl. There was always another. I just wanted silence, for the world around me to pause for a change. The music was loud, so loud that the bass pounded under my skin. I sat back on the couch, eyes closed as the girl next to me curled her fingers into my stomach and under my shirt. She was pretty enough- honey hair, pretty lips, big tits, but the feeling of her skin on mine did little to excite me. Sure, my dick was hard. Too bad the sensation was more of an annoyance. I was lost in the fog of my own exhaustion. My body was so tired, used up. I knew that eventually it would shut down. It had been too long since I had truly slept. Days, I think. I would black out soon.

  "You feel so good," she mumbled, and I felt the zipper fall on my jeans followed by her fingers sliding beneath the fabric, soft and unsure.

  There were at least a dozen people in the room. She was either too drunk to care or a kinky bitch. Fine by me either way. I wasn't planning on returning the favor anyway. I'd never touch a girl who was too inebriated to think. Touching me on the other hand? That was fair game. She turned her head and her lips met mine, her tongue pressing urgently to open my mouth, mumbling my name. Shit. What was her name? Stacy? Stephanie? Samantha? I could swear it started with an S. Her tongue slipped in and the taste of her broke through my haze. She tasted like Tequila. I shoved her away, but the smell had already seeped into my nose. My stomach lurched.

  "Who the fuck brought Tequila?" I growled into the crowd. The music had nothing on my screaming voice. The girl looked confused, but Trevor knew better. He found the bottle on the bar, scattered among all the others. I hated Tequila. They all knew that. Probably some stupid out of towner, like the dumb slut on my hip.

  "I got it, man!" He shouted, taking a quick swig before pouring the contents into the sink and tossing the bottle in the recycle hard enough to shatter.

  He laughed to himself and tore off his shirt, flexing his tanned biceps. Trevor was a clown, always so amused by his own antics. The guy was a complete tool bag. Some chick came up beside him and ruffled his brown hair before moving to stroke his pecs. I'm not sure if it was the sight of him shoving his tongue down her throat or the lingering aftertaste of Tequila that made my stomach turn at that point.

  I rubbed my face, closing my eyes again, allowing the world to right itself. The girl went back to her ministrations and I released a groan that had nothing to do with her hand fisting around my dick. My anger was quickly overtaken by the exhaustion once again.

  I didn't want to sleep. I knew what would be waiting for me in that dark. Even through the drugs and the booze, the nightmares would always win. Nothing could entirely fill the black hole in my chest anymore. It grew with each passing year, invading my body like black mold. Eight years and nothing had changed. I was dressed in nicer clothes now, the house was clean, my brother was safe, but I still felt like the little boy in that closet. I needed to stay alert. Stay awake for a few more hours.

  "Do you want another beer?" Trevor asked, waving the bottle in front of my face, the red in his eyes surrounding his brown irises. I shouldn't take it. I needed an upper to get my blood pumping, but Trevor was all out of the good stuff. I would have to do something else to spike my heart rate, something drastic.

  "Fuck it," I declared, looking at whatever her name was, pulling my cock free as I grabbed the beer. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

  The girl's eyes went wide in surprise at my lack of shame, and I chuckled. I doubted she had seen one as big as mine. It wasn't freakishly large, but it was thick and long. I knew I was packing enough that I had nothing to be ashamed of. My pulse quickened as several people looked our way. I chugged the whole beer. Electricity ran underneath my skin. Adrenaline pumping at full blast. Something about the crowd made me just a bit harder. She wanted kinky. Welcome to my world.

  "My dick will look so good between those lips. But I can find another set just as easy." I added, tossing the empty bottle to the floor as I reached up to cup her cheek. She laughed. I didn't. My eyes burrowed into hers. "Well? Are you gonna taste me with that pretty mouth or not?"

  I watched her pupils dilate, felt her squirm on the couch. The moan that left her lips was all the answer I needed. She wanted to taste me, it turned her on. Good. She bent over to put my dick in her mouth as I slid my hand into her hair. She was warm, wet, and eager. I felt her take me into the back of her throat almost immediately as I massaged her head in my hand. The adrenaline continued to course through me as the beer further clouded my senses. It would shut off my brain for a while, not filling the hole exactly, but it would cover it as would the nameless girl's mouth. It would keep the nightmares away, but they would find me eventually. They always did. No matter the drugs or booze or warm mouths.

  She worked on me with the finesse of a girl who had done this a hundred times, cupping my balls and flicking her tongue. I let my head fall back as I listened to the crowd hoot and holler. The high of them watching was fading quicker than I wanted it too. I was still so tired. My hands stroked her hair as I grunted, trying to fight the sleep.

  "You gonna swallow, pretty girl?"

  She moaned loudly then. So much for names. She didn't care what I called her. Her throat opened and she took me all the way in. I could feel the building in my stomach. Someone smacked her ass and she yelped around me, mouth full, and the vibrations were ama
zing on my skin.

  "That's a good slut."

  My body shook with the threat of release and I growled, tugging on her hair as I came into her mouth. The stunt wasn't good enough to beat out the exhaustion. I wasn't even sure if I stopped coming before I blacked out.

  ***

  Fists collided with skin. I felt my bones crack and splinter. Everything hurt. I cried, trying my best to cover myself from the punches. A hand pulled me up by the hair and I was doused in water that covered my face as I clutched onto the rim of the toilet. I fought for air, for escape.

  I woke to a pounding headache, covered in sweat on Trevor's guest house couch, and gasping for oxygen. The memory still lingered behind my eyelids as I stumbled over to the kitchen. The place was already spotless, but he always left the booze out when I was over. I grabbed the closest bottle of liquor to clear away the image and get a grip on my hangover. The bottle shook in my hand as I swallowed. Once...twice...three times. There wasn't much left in the bottle, so I drained it, wiping my mouth before clutching the counter.

  "About time you got up," Trevor said with a laugh as I panted. He was used to my nightmares. He knew not to ask questions, not that he cared. Trevor only cared about Trevor. He shoveled a handful of chips in his mouth. He was watching some football game on TV I couldn't tell if it was just highlights or an actual game and I really didn't fucking care. "The maids didn't even wake you up this time. You don't usually sleep that hard."

  "What time is it?"

  "More like what day is it." He laughed again. Always with that damn laugh. The world was a joke to him. "You slept clear through Saturday, bro. It's almost two on Sunday."

  So, the game was live then. Fuck. No wonder I had the shakes. I was starting to go into withdrawal. My phone vibrated from its place on a side table in the living room.

  "Shit's been going off for hours," Trevor said, gesturing to the cell.

  I shrugged, letting the liquor work its magic before finally reaching for the phone and unplugging it from the charger. Ten missed texts from my brother, a dozen or so calls from Robert and Laura. I ignored those, opting to reply to a text from Heather instead. She wanted to know why I didn't show up for our date last night.

  "Damn it all to hell," I said, beginning to type a message back. No lame excuses. I told her I passed out on Friday and just woke up. Lying was for people that gave a shit. I didn't. It wouldn't make a bit of difference in the end. "I missed that stupid date."

  Date was a bit of a stretch. I didn't do dates. She had invited me over to watch movies, but we both knew it was so we could fuck. Well, I knew. Maybe she had diluted herself into thinking differently. That was her problem, not mine.

  "Heather?" He replied, shoving some more chips in his mouth with his mouth still half full. Could he at least fucking chew?

  "Yeah. I've been trying to hit that for weeks. Now I'm going to have to get her hot and bothered all over again."

  She would fall for it, they all did. The little cat and mouse game I played, the seduction and the dirty words. It always worked eventually. I dug around in my jeans for my car keys and took a final swig of liquor from a fresh bottle for good measure before heading for the door.

  "I'm going to check in at home before they lose their shit. I've been here all week."

  "Cool. I'm going to make a trip into Harrow. Want anything special?"

  The smile that took over my face felt foreign, dark. The thought of some percs or Vicodin made my skin tingle.

  "Same old, same old."

  He gave a nod. Tossing the chips and reaching for his phone.

  "See you tomorrow at school. That's if you're showing up."

  I shrugged. Although it was more likely than not that I would show up. I ditched a fair amount, just enough to still pass, but Trevor couldn't miss any more class and he would have the good shit. My blood hummed for it and he knew it.

  "Later, man."

  He didn't respond, already caught up in his phone.

  By the time my car hit the main road I had a good buzz going, enough that I could face them. I popped some cinnamon gum in my mouth and took off for home or at least the address on my mail and license. I wouldn't stay for long before crashing back on Trevor's couch or guest bed. I could only stand my family for so long. Despite the fact that I was eighteen those fuckers cared too much and the last thing I needed was their judgment or anyone else's. Trevor may be a class A douchebag, but he was shallow. He'd pat me on the back as I did a line of coke off his sister's ass while throat fucking her. Not like I would, she was fourteen. Regardless, he wouldn't blink an eye and that's what I needed, someone who didn't care and knew nothing of importance. I could pretend with him and drink, smoke, or fuck my way into oblivion.

  Chapter 2

  Avery- 10 years ago

  The crowded hall made me feel claustrophobic as I shoved my books into my locker before straightening my black sweater over my dark skinny jeans. I had to hold my breath as a group of jocks passed behind me. It felt like they took up all the space and air in the hall. I wanted to go home to my books and my TV Home to the fictional friends who kept me company when no one else would.

  I thought things would be easier when we moved to Junction, NC last year. I'd stupidly hoped that I would make at least one friend. Dad made it sound like a quaint small town from the books Mom used to read to me as a kid, but it was little more than a town full of rich snobs. I was still a pariah, still lost. I wondered if I would ever fit in, if people would ever stop looking at me with pity or annoyance. The poor girl with the dead mom. Better yet, the town weirdo and reject. Most days I would take the invisible girl over the bullied one. A large majority of the kids in Junction knew each other since pre-school and had parents that worked in Charlotte all week and left their kids with nannies. They were practically adults, throwing parties every other day and getting away with everything short of murder. I was the odd girl out, the broken toy nobody wanted. I couldn't keep up.

  I'd tried to make friends at first, but all the girls talked about summers in vacation homes and what new car Daddy would buy them. For the first few weeks of Senior year, I had tried to become friends with no less than a dozen girls. I'd even exchanged numbers with a couple of them. They all looked at me like I had two heads when I told them I didn't wear makeup and they didn't like that my dad and I spent so much time together. It was even worse when they found out I read for fun and apparently, I was the only girl at Junction High that watched Inflictions. I would bet good money on that being a lie. Inflictions was the hottest show on TV I may have said as much. The rumor mill was not friendly. It didn't take long for everyone to stop talking to me all together after that.

  Dad fit in a bit better than me, but only because of his job. The small contractor business he opened last summer was booming. Money bought a lot of beautiful bathrooms, state of the art kitchens, guest houses, fancy porches, and tree houses. Dad was the best builder in town, and everyone knew it. They hired him even though his crew was mostly paroles and guys that had been shit on by life. His work was that good. Weirdly enough that's not why people thought he was strange. It was the fact that he didn't date, and I could admit my dad was a good-looking guy. Despite, well, being my dad.

  He was still pining for my mother even eleven years later. We both missed her, but in a different way. I missed the mother I barely knew, the mother that I fantasized. His grief was more substantial. They had been high school sweethearts and he grieved a woman that he grew up with. He still grieved for her heavily, that wife that died over a decade ago. It sat weird with a little town. Add on to that a loner daughter and let's just say people give Dad a wide berth. At least we were outcasts together, but not even he could keep me in Junction.

  I had only four more months of senior year before summer and then college. I had money saved up from mom's life insurance and an acceptance letter to NYU. I just had to make it through this hell. Four more months at this high school, with these people, and then I could escape to the city
. From there I could explore the world and hopefully make a friend or two along the way. Someone to talk books with or watch bad TV Dad did not understand the greatness of dramatic TV shows and it's not like I could talk to him about guys. The dorm might actually give me some real experience with boys outside of fiction and that one horrid attempt at sex a few years ago. That's what it was, an attempt. I shook my head at the horrible memory. Calling it sex was being generous.

  "Please, Garrett."

  I heard the girl's pleas from behind me just as I shut my locker.

  "You still owe me after that date you missed two weeks ago. Besides, I know you want to come. Everyone will be there," she said, and I turned to see Heather Lovely leaning against the lockers on the other side of the hall.

  Yes, her last name was Lovely and that's exactly what she was, lovely and so impossibly perfect. Long blond, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect clothes, perfect baby blue eyes. She even had perfect teeth and beside her stood her dark equal, Garrett Hathaway. He towered over her small frame by a solid foot. Tall and toned with a slight tan. Italian roots, he definitely had them.

  He looked down at Heather with annoyance, leaning with his side against the lockers and looking like some sort of model. One of those cologne models from the commercials who oozed sex and dazzled girls into idiocy all in classic black and white. He brushed back wavy black hair from where it touched his cheeks, a little bit of dark stubble coated his chiseled jawline.

  His whole demeanor just screamed darkness, especially with his black shirt, jeans, and black coat. He was a shadow, someone who fit so easily into the darkness. He didn't adapt to the Technicolor world around him. Everyone just embraced him like they would the night. He was inevitable. The only thing light about him were those piercing blue eyes that he used to entrance every victim he set them on. Victims like Heather. The way he was staring at her...it was sinful. Honestly, I was surprised he hadn't gotten to her already. Then again, she was nice under all those perfect features. Unlike Garret, who's beauty hid the poison that ran through his veins. He was a wolf among sheep, who treated people like trash or toys. I absolutely loathed him as a person, but fuck me, I couldn't stop staring at him whenever I got the chance.