Before We Fractured: Books 1-3

by Bradon Nave

  His vulnerability was what drew me to him. He was everything I could have ever wanted in my young adult life. It was brief but it was beautiful. Attempting to be grateful for the fact that we had been was difficult when it was placed next to the idea that I would never see the boy again.

  I’d plucked him from his healing, completely mis-categorized his priorities, and left him with a stranger in a late ’70s model single-wide mobile home in rural Mississippi. That wasn’t only toxic—it was completely disgusting. Everything I touched crumbled and bled out between my fingers.

  Soft light ahead came from a small gas station. I was thankful as the gauge didn’t work—I had no clue how much gasoline was in the vehicle.

  I pulled into the station, thankful to be momentarily free from the downpour—heavy and relentless on the roof of the vehicle.

  The drive would be long, but I only needed enough fuel to make it to my grandfather’s trailer house. I had no intension of returning from my hell. My final chapter ended there. Too fractured to mend, but strong enough to break what had fractured me.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The room was surprisingly familiar…nauseatingly familiar. I couldn’t quite place where I was or what I was doing there, but the walls and the—shit! I was there already! I was in my grandfather’s trashy little trailer house, waiting in the back room…the “special room.” I hated this room. I never wanted to see it again. It made no sense that I would awaken here. It made no sense that I couldn’t remember how I got here.

  Oh well. The time to kill him was now. As I looked about the room I was delighted to see nothing the same…nothing was as I remembered it. Only the walls and the windows appeared to be the same. Then I heard the humming. Sweet humming coming from the end of the princess bed. I looked upon the back of the head of a little girl. A little brown-headed girl with a coloring book. The song—the girl—I knew them both.

  Attempting to step closer, I found I couldn’t—I was secured to the thin wood-paneled walls. The humming continued as the door opened. In walked my grandfather. With every ounce of my being I wanted to scream at him, to hit him, but I couldn’t.

  Followed by my grandfather was my Uncle Cline. This wasn’t possible. He was dead. How the hell could this be?

  “Kacey? Sweetheart. Are you ready for our tea party?”

  Turning her small face toward me, I looked upon the face of myself…a younger version of me. This was a dream—a wretched nightmare. Either that or I had died and gone to hell.

  “Oh my, Father. This little one appears to be broken. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Now, Patrick. She’s a good playdate. She follows instructions so well.”

  Walking toward the younger me, he gently pinched the young girl on the cheek while smiling.

  “She hosts our tea parties in such a lovely way, don’t you Kacey?”

  I understood this to be a sick and disturbing way of my mind sorting through the past, but still I wanted to scream for her to run. I wanted her to bite and claw at them and run for the door.

  She did nothing…she did absolutely nothing other than what she was told. This was an accurate dream. Other than my uncle being there. This was an accurate dream; I never fought—I didn’t understand at that time that there was anything to be fighting against.

  “Kacey…it’s time to play. Don’t you want to play, Kacey? Don’t you want to play tea party with your Teddy and your Pappy and Uncle Patrick? Don’t you?”

  Run you dumb little…don’t just sit there. Don’t be a victim. Even if it’s only a dream, escape them just once…even if it’s only a dream. Escape their touch…escape their intentions.

  From the outside of the door I heard my mother’s voice. “Kacey. Kacey are you in there? Kacey come out, dear. Come out. It’s time for piano.”

  “Oh no, Kacey. It’s time for tea with me and Uncle Patrick. Ignore your mother. It’s time for our tea party.”

  Why isn’t she screaming for her mother? Why am I not screaming for my mom? This makes no sense. Why can’t I wake up? This is too cruel.

  “Father…isn’t she broken. Is she not fractured without us?”

  “She’s a fine playmate, Patrick. Hey, hey, hey playmate…come out and play with me. And bring your dollies three. Climb up my apple tree. Slide down my rain barrel, into my cellar door, and we’ll be jolly friends…forever more, more, more.”

  “Is she not fractured, Father. Is she not toxic? She’s toxic.”

  “Kacey, it’s your mother. Come to me dear. It’s time to leave.”

  Why won’t she just leave? Scream you dumb little girl! Scream for her!

  She wasn’t screaming, so I would scream for her. My throat produced the vibrating noise of the scream, but my lips…my lips wouldn’t work properly. I couldn’t open them. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t save myself, even from my own dream.

  “She’s fractured, Father.”

  “She’s a fine playdate, Patrick.”

  “Kacey! Come to your mother, dear!”

  “So sorry, playmate, I cannot play with you. My dolly’s got the flu. Boo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo. Ain’t got no rain barrel. Ain’t got no cellar door. But we’ll be jolly friends, forever more, more, more, more.”

  ***

  The warmth on my eyelids beckoned them to open—the sun was kissing my face gently, coaxing me into mayhem. The scream finally tore from my throat and filled the entire car. My head and armpits perspired although the cab was frigidly cold. I was certain I’d been dreaming, yet I looked all about the small car to ensure I was the only one within it. The sickening feeling of the dream carried over into my reality. I hated it. I wanted to end it. I wanted to rip it away and dispose of it forever. Today was the day; today was his last.

  Attempting to calm myself, I rested my head into the headrest and closed my eyes. The only face I saw was Jessie’s—not my uncle’s, not my grandfather’s, and certainly not the weak and fractured little girl’s.

  Breathing deeply and slowly through my nostrils, I calmed myself to the point of refocusing on the mission at hand.

  I’d slept on the side of the road near a picnic table. The only reason I’d locked the doors was to ensure I survived to finish the mission. Nothing mattered but ending his existence—I’d worry about anything else after that. I wasn’t far from his tiny homestead—yet I chose to sleep prior to my invasion. I wanted a clear and calm mind when I ended him. The sickening dream only solidified the fact that he would not be breathing this time tomorrow.

  Reminding myself that my uncle was dead and gone calmed me somewhat. I attempted to change mental subjects.

  As I pulled onto the blacktop I thought of Duke and Lily—I was certain the two were worried sick about Jessie. Perhaps they were worried about me as well. I was certain they would hate me once they learned I was Jessie’s undoing.

  School is nothing more than a buffer, a tired and pathetic display of cliché’s wandering about the halls with fake smiles and novelty expressions—whatever’s trending. I despise most of them.

  Duke and Lily are my friends. I actually care of their opinion; I actually care for them. Sarah is my friend—she’s a basic blonde bitch but we all need a little bit of that in our lives. Basic as she appears, she’s unique enough to escape the title of cliché. I wouldn’t take a bullet for her, but I’d definitely pull her back from a speeding car. Some of them I would gladly push.

  Their faces were shoved to the back of my mind—I was a mere seventeen miles from the dirt road that lead to my childhood nightmares—where it all began. I knew I would soon be there and the only one living a nightmare would be my disgusting grandfather. He would be the one screaming. This would be the playdate he never imagined—the one he never saw coming.

  ***

  My breath seemed to momentarily escape me as I turned down his driveway. His little trailer house looked nearly the same as it did the last time I saw it. I told my mother the truth about everything that happened just a few days after the last visit to my grand
father’s house. He hadn’t laid a hand on me in years, but my mother and I were packing our bags due to my confession just the same. We tore off from Louisiana. Perhaps actually hearing the truth said out loud was too much for her.

  My grandfather’s car wasn’t there—I was almost thankful. My palms were wet atop the steering wheel as I gripped it.

  The driveway encircled the home so I parked in the back of the house so he wouldn’t see me when he returned from doing whatever the hell he was doing.

  After sitting in the vehicle for several minutes I reached for the keys and exited.

  To my surprise the backdoor wasn’t locked. Walking into the house was like walking into the bad dream, but this time I could move. This time I could talk and act on my impulses. This time I could inflict pain and take revenge. There was no little girl humming at the end of a princess bed. There was only me. That little girl was long dead—too weak to stand and escape her demons. I had returned strong and capable of fighting them, of ending him.

  His cat was quick to approach me, rubbing on my leg. A sudden urge to send the fat shit sailing across the kitchen and into the adjacent wall was soon quelled. It wasn’t Marek’s fault.

  My gaze danced all about the scene—nothing had changed. With a deep breath, I made my way down the narrow hallway to the tiny back bedroom. Opening it I was instantly nauseated. The dollhouse, the rocking horse, and princess bed were all the same. I looked about the room as my eyes glistened over. None of it made sense.

  It was then I saw it—the most horrific sight I’d ever laid my eighteen-year-old eyes on; the name, ‘Tiffany’ on a Scooby Doo coloring book.

  “No!” My hand slapped over my mouth in disbelief. Tiffany was a little girl two miles down the road from my grandfather’s house. Her mother was a single parent and went to the same church as my grandfather.

  Tiffany had to have been at least six now. I crashed to my knees, wailing. Instantly my game plan changed—he would suffer; he would suffer great pain. He would die screaming.

  Saddling my emotion, my heart raced as the front door of the house opened.

  “Damn you, Marek. Stupid cat.”

  It was him. The same voice that sang My Little Pony and Jesus Loves Me and that damn playmate song—the same voice that gave vile instructions; it was him.

  Rising to my feet, I reached for the doorknob and flung the door open. My belligerence couldn’t be contained as I raced down the hall—my heels digging into the flimsy flooring.

  “What the…Kacey! Beautiful girl! You’re okay!” His arms raised to welcome me as my hand raised to strike his sagging cheek.

  “You disgusting pig!”

  He grabbed his cheek—completely shocked by my rage. He stepped from me, bracing himself on the kitchen bar—his mouth left a gape.

  “I’ve given you all I have…you have everything, Kacey.”

  “And Tiffany? What will you give her?”

  The loose skin under either of his tired eyes squinted slightly. “It’s not what you think, sweet girl.”

  “Then what the hell is it!”

  Turning from him I buried my face into my hands. The sights and smells of the home and seeing his face—it proved too much; I was indeed too fractured.

  “Her mother is always here, Kacey. Lorianna is always here.”

  Completely consumed with emotion, I walked past my frail grandfather to the kitchen. “I need you to sit down…now!”

  My rage had me flinging drawers to the linoleum flooring as utensils went sailing about the floor.

  “What? Sit? Why, Kacey?”

  “Sit down now! I’m…I’m going to kill…I’m going to kill you.”

  Through my tears I expected his elderly ass to run from the kitchen, to burst from the front door with all he had in an effort to escape my revenge—he didn’t.

  “Okay.” His cracking voice was followed with streaming tears as he obediently hobbled past me to a kitchen chair. Slow as he was—he still took his seat at death’s door. His lip quivered, his hands clasped together and his gaze rested on the floor—I found the serrated knife I was looking for; the one I imagined only moments prior. It would peel him open.

  Trembling, I approached him—presenting my method of execution as I looked down on the top of his bald head—shiny and clad with small brown freckles.

  Biting my bottom lip I poked his shoulder forcefully with the knife—the thrust didn’t even break the skin, but sent him into a panic just the same as he began wailing.

  “Please just get me on the throat. I know I deserve much worse…I know I do! Please just the throat!”

  Extending his chin upwards in an effort to present his throat for me to butcher, my insides tightened as my nerves clenched them.

  “Kacey…please just the throat…I’m so scared.”

  Inhaling deeply—with all my might I sent the knife sailing across the living room and crashing into the wall.

  “Shut up! Just shut the hell up!” My open palm met his face again once more. “If you ever…and I mean ever have that little girl over here again I swear to God I will slit you from your flaccid pecker to you sternum…I don’t care who is here to supervise!”

  “O…okay! I promise. I haven’t touched her! I’ve never touched her!”

  “I said shut the hell up!” As I crashed to the floor my forehead rested on his trembling knee.

  Queasy and completely disheveled, I felt his frail hand on the back of my head shaking as I sobbed.

  “Why?” My sobs sounded pathetic even to me—I was no longer fractured, I was completely broken; I was shattered and annihilated. “Why did you hurt me? I lo…I loved you, Grandpa…”

  “I’m so sorry, Kacey! Oh my God I’m so sorry! Forgive me! Forgive me!”

  His shrieks had him crashing over me as we sobbed together.

  For what seemed like an eternity we cried together. I allowed the interaction because I realized that this was in fact the most normal and functional grandfather/granddaughter interaction the two of us had ever had—and even though I was no longer planning to end his life, it would also be the last interaction we would ever have.

  “I…I will forgive you. I will forgive you because I think you finally know what you are.”

  As his hand left the back of my head my forehead left his knee. Looking to his weathered face—saturated in guilt and tears, I kissed my index finger and lifted it to his cheek, which was red from my assault.

  “You will tell no one I was here, am I understood?”

  “Kacey they’re—”

  “No one! You owe me that!”

  “O…okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise, Kacey.”

  I stood over him, my strength was my ability to show mercy rather than extinguish my nightmares. He continued to tremble as I made my way toward the backdoor.

  Flinging the door open, I stepped away from my terror. I was no longer that little girl. Perhaps I was completely shattered, but I was able to find the tiny pieces and tote them far from this place…the place of my nightmares.

  My heart raced as I heard a vehicle in the front of his trailer. My initial instinct to hide soon diminished. I knew the police were more than likely looking for me. Avery more than likely called and foiled my plan. Screw it all…

  Walking around trailer my jaw dropped as Avery’s truck came racing into view, my beautiful Jessie in the passenger seat.

  As the vehicle screeched to a halt, Jessie jumped from the seat and raced to me. I was unsure what to expect.

  “Kacey!” His face was riddled with worry, his eyes wild and teaming with anxiety.

  “Jess…Jessie, how did you find—”

  “The address. Are you okay? Oh my god! Are you okay?”

  “No…no, I’m not okay, Jessie.”

  “Did you kill him? Did you kill your grandpa?”

  Looking at his beautiful face, totally adorned with complete concern for me—I found my words had escaped me entirely. I simply shook my head n
o as he took me into his arms.

  “I was so worried. I thought I’d lost you. I love you, Kacey. I didn’t realize how much I love you—”

  “What? How? Jessie how can you love me? Even now? You love me even now?” In total shock at Jessie’s proclamation—I had to push him backward to view his expression as Avery watched the scene.

  “None of that matters, Kacey. I know it’s totally screwed and we’re both completely just…we’re both…we’re both screwed. But we’re in this together. I don’t care how long I have to wait. I want you in my life. I need you in my life.”

  “Jessie…”

  “Um…Kacey, did you in any way harm your grandfather?” Avery was clearly concerned as he watched our dramatic interaction.

  “He’s not home…he’s not even here.”

  “Good. I’m just gonna give you two a moment. Then we’ll make our way to the police station.”

  “Wait! Avery…please wait. Jessie and I…It won’t matter if we turn ourselves in today or in a few days. I need…I need a safe haven for just a few days before I’m ripped away from the only thing I care about. Please…just a few days rest at your place. We’ll go to the police after that I promise.”

  “I don’t…I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m too involved as it is. I know too much.”

  “You don’t know anything. When Jessie and I go to the police we’re not telling them we told you anything. All you know is you took two kids in. You were just being helpful.”

  “Please?” It seemed Jessie’s request resounded greater with Avery than mine did. The men shared a look across the hood of his truck. It was obvious—Avery trusted Jessie. I was capable of prying what I wanted from a man by manipulation—but gaining a man’s complete trust was something I’d been lacking since the day a drunk driver took my father from me.

  “Okay…I can do a few days. But only if you promise you’ll go to the police after a few days.”

  Jessie’s nod sealed the deal.