Pierced
Pierced By Danger
Pierced By Love
Pierced Ever After
Pierced By Christmas
Lashell Collins
Other Works by Lashell Collins
Pierced By Danger
Pierced By Love
Pierced Ever After
Pierced By Christmas (A holiday novella)
Jagged Hearts
Jagged Dreams
Jagged Addiction
Jagged Secrets – Available December 2013
By Lashell Collins
Copyright © 2013 by Lashell Collins
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers (under age 18).
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this eBook may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Table of Contents
Pierced By Danger
Pierced By Love
Pierced Ever After
Pierced By Christmas
About the Author
Pierced By Danger
Prologue
I’m lying across my bed playing with my Hot Wheels cars when it starts. I hear the yelling and I jump. I don’t like it when he yells. I’m scared to move. But I don’t want to hear the yelling and the crashing. I jump off the bed and run over to the door and push it closed. Then I run back over to my bed and I crouch down on the floor between my bed and the wall. I can still hear the yelling and I know he’s throwing things. I hear loud noises and she’s crying again. I put my fingers in my ears and close my eyes really tight.
Sometimes, when he yells, nothing happens. He just yells really loud and she jumps and does whatever he says. But most of the time, when he starts to yell things get really bad. She tries to do what he says but, I guess she doesn’t move fast enough or she does it all wrong because he gets so mad at her and he calls her bad names and then he hits her. He hits her really, really hard. Sometimes he hits her so hard that she falls down. I don’t like it when he hits her. He hurts her when he hits her.
I can hear the yelling getting closer and I know that they are in the hallway outside my room. I’m so scared. I want to run to the door and let mommy in so she’ll be safe in here with me. Only I know that she wouldn’t be safe in here with me because he would just push the door open and keep on hitting her like he always does. And then he might hit me too. I don’t like it when he hits me. It hurts.
I can hear him screaming at her even though I still have my fingers in my ears.
“Please, Danny. I’m sorry, honey. I just asked where you were?”
“Don’t you worry about where I was, you stupid bitch. Where I go is none of your damn business!”
I hear the smack of his fist hitting her skin and then a big thud as she falls against the wall outside my bedroom door.
“No more, please! No more.”
She is whimpering now. I hate it when she’s lying on the floor, begging him to stop. She always looks so little and scared. Why can’t he just be nice to her? I can feel the tears sliding down my face but I don’t make a sound. If I make noise he will remember me and then he might come in here and hurt me. I keep my eyes focused on my white shoelaces and let the tears fall onto my shirt. All of a sudden, the white on my shoelaces takes on a soft blue color and I look up with a start. The white walls of my room are pulsing with a soft blue strobe light and I take a big, relieved breath. Good! The yelling and hitting will stop now for the night, now that they’re here.
I hear the loud, hard knock against the front door. “Open up the door, Pierce! Seattle PD.”
“Shit.” I hear my dad mutter the bad word and I creep out from behind my bed and go over to the door and peek out. I see him running his hands through his hair and wiping his face with the back of his hand as he glares down at mommy. She’s still lying on the floor. “Get up and look presentable,” he hisses at her. As she slowly starts to pull herself from the floor he adds, “Fix yourself up!”
The knocking comes again, louder and more insistent this time. My dad leaves the hallway and goes to answer the door and I slowly creep out into the hall. My eyes lock with mommy’s and she frowns at me as she pats her hair and wipes her face. Then she hurries past me into the bathroom to look in the mirror.
“Good evening, officers.” I hear my dad’s cool voice at the front door. “What brings you out on this fine night?”
“How you doing, Danny?” one of the officers says, just as coolly. “Got a call that there might be some kind of trouble here at your place.”
“Nope. No trouble here.” My dad sounds like all is right with the world but, I don’t think the officers believe him.
“Really? Because when we walked up to the door just now, we heard an awful lot of yelling and fighting going on. Why don’t we come in and just check it out for you?”
My dad steps aside and lets the police officers come in. I’m still hiding in the hallway, watching mommy check herself in the bathroom mirror. One of the officers gets a real sad look on his face when he turns and sees me standing at the end of the hall. I recognize him. Officer Parson; he’s been here before. They’ve all been here before.
“Hey, there you are, Little Guy,” he says to me. “Why don’t you come on over here with me for a minute.”
I hesitate and look over at mommy. She’s still in the bathroom at the mirror and I think she’s afraid to come out. I don’t think she wants the officers to see the cuts and marks on her face. She looks at me and nods that it’s okay and I turn back to the officer who’s motioning me to him. I walk over to him and he leads me into the living room while the other officer is still talking to my dad.
I like it when the officers come. It means the fighting will stop and they’re always nice to me. They talk to me and ask me questions. Not just questions about the fighting but, questions about other stuff. Like what I’m doing in school and if I like to play ball or watch movies. Stuff like that. And sometimes they take me outside and let me look at their police cruiser, ’cause most of them know that my favorite thing is cars. One time, Officer Parson even let me turn on the siren once. It was neat.
“You got any new Hot Wheels, Guy,” the officer asks me and I shake my head shyly. I look over at the other officer and my dad. My dad doesn’t like it when the officers are nice to me. He never says nothin’ but, I can tell. Right now though, he’s too busy talking to the other officer to care about me. He’s always too busy doing something to care about me. I watch as mommy finally comes out of the bathroom and the officer starts to talk to her and ask if she’s all right. I want to hear what they’re saying but Officer Parson keeps talkin’ to me.
“What’s that you’re holding in your hand, Guy?”
I look down at my hands and see one of my Hot Wheels. I didn’t even know I was holding onto it. I hold out my hand and show it to him. It’s a Chevy Camaro Z28. “It’s an old one,” I say to him as he takes it from my hand and studies it. He whistles.
“Nice. Z28. I always wanted one of those myself.” He smiles at me and I can feel myself smile back.
Chapter One
Samantha
I walk out of the market and stop momentarily to readjust. I’m trying to juggle
my eco-friendly bag full of groceries and my purse as I fish my keys out of it. Why didn’t I get my keys out first before leaving the store? Not very smart of me, I realize now. I roll my eyes at myself as I shift the grocery bag to my left arm and push my purse straps a little higher onto my right shoulder at the same time. This is a tricky maneuver since the bag is quite heavy and I’m not exactly known for my gracefulness.
A gentleman sitting in a beat up old car in a parking space near the exit glances at me through his open window with disinterest as I struggle with my bags. I notice him flick the ashes from his cigarette as he blows out the smoke and turns away. Glancing to my left, I see another young man standing next to the trash can near the exit. He looks down at his feet when we make eye contact. Gingerly, my fingers fumble with my key chain and I slowly pull them out of the little pocket inside the purse. Got it!
Placing the small leather key chain between my teeth, I sigh as I shift the awkward bag so that I’m carrying it with both arms as I continue on to my car. It’s dark now. It was still light out when I went into the store but, luckily I parked beneath one of the large lamps that dot the store’s parking lot. I hate shopping at night but, it has become a necessary evil the past few weeks since my work hours have changed. I’ll be glad when we finally hire a little extra help so I can get my nice daytime hours back. Or better yet, when I get the docent position that I interviewed for a couple of weeks ago. Assuming, of course, that I do get it. I frown to myself at that thought. I really want that job; I don’t want to think about the possibility of not getting it.
The parking lot is large and somewhat deserted now. Was I really in there that long? There are only a handful of other cars around and I get an uneasy feeling as I continue to glance around. I don’t know why I feel so nervous, it’s not like I’m in a bad part of town. I shop here all the time and I’ve never had the first problem. Only why did I have to park so far away from the door? Again, not very bright of me.
As I near my car, I begin to get the strangest feeling that I am being watched and I think I hear footsteps behind me. Well, it is a parking lot, Sam. My subconscious smirks at me. She’s right, of course. And even though it wasn’t overly busy, there were a fair amount of other shoppers inside the market; of course there would be people coming out of the store behind me. But even as part of my brain is trying to think rationally about this, I can’t let go of the eerie feeling that’s beginning to creep up my spine. I pick up my pace, but the footsteps behind me quicken as I do. Am I imagining that?
Suddenly, I am accosted from behind. My bag full of groceries goes flying forward, out of my arms and oddly, I wonder how long it’s going to take me to gather up the contents that go scattering all over the lot. The thought is fleeting as I begin to struggle with my attacker. His hands grab at my shoulder as he tries to rip my purse away from me and I am flooded with an overwhelming sense of terror. The anxiety grips at my heart and I really begin to fear for my safety.
My hands push against his face as I try to pull away from him but, he is too strong! His hands seem to be everywhere and I can hear myself screaming. Then, in one brief moment, I see his fist coming straight toward my face and the shattering pain when it connects is blinding.
“Don’t play with me, bitch!” He snarls at me and I feel the impact of several more blows but, I see nothing.
*****
I awake slowly and I can hear the muffled sounds of people talking far away. I try to open my eyes but, something won’t let me and the pain is excruciating. I seem to hurt everywhere – my head, my face, my left side and arm, my right shoulder. When I let out a soft groan of agony, I hear a shuffling sound near by and my heartbeat quickens with fear.
“Sam?” The familiar voice sounds full of concern.
“Lucas?” My voice is small and shaky.
“Yeah, Pita, it’s me. I’m here.” His voice is full of both worry and relief and I try to smile at my brother’s favorite nickname for me. Pita. An acronym for ‘Pain In The Ass.’ He has affectionately called me this since we were teenagers. Well … sometimes maybe not so affectionately.
“Lucas, where am I? What’s going on? Why can’t I see anything?” I can hear the fear rising in my voice and I begin to cry.
“Shh, it’s okay, Sam.” He takes my right hand and gives it a light squeeze as his other hand softly pats my aching shoulder. “You’re going to be all right. I’ll just go and get the doctor.”
“Doctor?” My voice is panicky. Why am I here and why do I hurt all over? “Lucas, what is going on, why am I here?”
“Sam, you were mugged last night,” he says. And in that instant, it all comes back to me. In my mind, I see flashes of last night play like snapshots before my eyes. Working late, picking some beautiful fresh zucchini at the market, being in the checkout line, stepping out into the darkness from the brightness of the store, fumbling for my keys as I walk toward my car, feeling an eerie chill when my attacker came up behind me. Oh, my God! I remember the fear.
“Lucas,” I squeak as the tears start to really flow.
“It’s okay, Sam. You’re okay now. It’s all right.” He sits on the side of the bed and pulls me into his arms and it is then that I realize I have an IV hooked up to my right arm. I don’t know how long Lucas lets me cry on his shoulder but, after some time, I hear the door open slowly and someone enters.
“Samantha!”
“Mom?”
I can’t see it but, I can hear my brother’s soft exasperated sigh as he lets go of me and stands up. Our mother can be a bit of a handful sometimes.
“Oh, my God, Samantha! You look horrid,” she almost shrieks and my spirits fall even further. “I cannot believe this has happened. And, of course, it wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been working at that damned museum!”
Oh, this is all I need right now. Yet another argument with Mom about my choices and ‘suitable pastimes for a young woman of my status.’ Great.
“I think what you mean to say is, ‘How are you feeling, Samantha?’ Right, Mom?” I can tell by Lucas’ voice that he is shooting her a look of contempt.
“Well, of course, I’m worried about how she’s feeling, Lucas,” Mom replies. “Don’t get petulant with me.” She turns her attention back to me and says, “Darling. You poor thing.” I feel her sit on my bed and she takes my hand. “What are the doctors saying?”
“I was just about to tell them she’s awake,” Lucas says, adopting the no-nonsense, business tycoon attitude he usually uses with Mom.
“Well, get to it then,” Mom says, and I hear the door open and close once more as he leaves the room. Mom is silent for a moment and I feel her run her hand softly over the top of my head, stroking my hair as if I were a small child. “Oh,” she says quietly, and it’s an almost tortured sound. “My beautiful baby girl. What kind of animal would do this?” she whispers and I wonder at just how bad I must look.
In a moment, Lucas is back and I can tell from the sound of the footsteps that he’s not alone. The other person speaks and it’s a friendly female voice. “Hello Samantha. Welcome back. I’m Dr. Nash.”
“Hello.” My voice sounds very small to my ears.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions but first, let me just tell you what’s going on, okay?”
I say nothing and nod as I cling to my mother’s hand. It’s funny. Usually my mother and I are at odds over just about everything in my life but, right now, having her here is strangely soothing. I guess when we’re hurt, we all want our mommies. It’s human nature.
“Well, first of all, I want you to know that we’re confident you’re going to make a complete recovery,” Dr. Nash says in a soothing voice. “Your brother tells me you’re concerned that you can’t see anything right now, and I understand your worries so, let me explain. Your left eye is severely swollen but it doesn’t appear to be damaged in any way so, as that swelling goes down, you should have no problem with your vision in it. However, your right eye did have a fair amount of debris in it.
We believe it was gravel from the supermarket parking lot you were mugged in. We removed the debris and we’re confident that we got it all. But your eye is bandaged and you’re wearing a patch over it, just as a precautionary measure. We’ll remove the bandages in a day or two.”
I raise my hand to lightly touch the patch over my eye. I feel sick and my stomach begins to roll.
“Now you also suffered some bruising to your left ribs but they’re not broken, okay,” the doctor continues, “and your left arm has some abrasions where you landed on it, and we’ve cleaned and bandaged those as well. Also, there’s a nice bruise on your right shoulder. We’re not exactly certain what caused that.”
At her words, I suddenly remember my attacker’s hands clawing at my shoulder and arm, trying to get at my purse.
“All in all, I would say that you’re a very lucky girl,” Dr. Nash says. “It could have been a lot worse.”
I shudder. I don’t feel very lucky at all.
“Doctor, when can she go home,” Lucas asks. His voice is still all business. Seems the concerned big brother is gone for the moment.
“We’ll keep her here for a day or two,” Nash replies. “As I said, we want to keep a close watch on that eye. Her other wounds are all fairly superficial and will just take time to heal. We’re giving you something for the pain but, other than that,” Nash turns her attention back to me, “your vitals are good, Samantha. Do you have any questions for me?”
I shake my head ‘no,’ but then, I think of something. “Um … I can’t see to go to the bathroom,” I say quietly. And I can hear Lucas snicker. The business tycoon has been pushed to the side and my big brother is back. I smile slightly, but the motion makes my face hurt and I flinch.
“I’ll send in a nurse to help you with that,” Dr. Nash says, and I can hear her smile. She turns to leave but stops at the door. “Oh, by the way, the police were here a few hours ago but, you were still out of it. They’ll be back to talk to you about the mugging.” Then she turns and leaves.
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