OTHER CONTEMPORARY NOVELS BY SAMANTHA TOWLE
Under Her
Unsuitable
Sacking the Quarterback (BookShots Flames/James Patterson)
The Ending I Want
When I Was Yours
Trouble
THE GODS SERIES
Ruin
Rush
THE WARDROBE SERIES
Wardrobe Malfunction
Breaking Hollywood
THE REVVED SERIES
Revved
Revived
THE STORM SERIES
The Mighty Storm
Wethering the Storm
Taming the Storm
The Storm
PARANORMAL ROMANCES BY SAMANTHA TOWLE
The Bringer
THE ALEXANDRA JONES SERIES
First Bitten
Original Sin
Copyright © 2018 by Samantha Towle
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at www.samanthatowle.co.uk
Cover Model: Andrew Biernat
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs
Editor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 9781793353139
Author's Note
—River Wild
Prologue
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Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Dear Reader,
I have always been a believer of not putting warnings onto my books because I like the element of surprise when it comes to storytelling.
But I do also understand that not everyone is like me and that triggers are a very real thing, and the last thing I would ever want to do is cause anyone distress, hence the reason for this note.
River Wild is ultimately a romance novel, but it does also cover the difficult subjects of child abuse and sexual and domestic violence.
This story is one of survival, redemption, and healing, encapsulated by love.
My whole heart and soul went into this book. I hope, if you do read on, that you adore River and Carrie’s story as much as I do.
Much love,
Samantha
Monsters lurk in plain sight.
They wear ordinary clothes.
Have ordinary faces.
Work ordinary jobs.
Live ordinary lives.
But the monster is always there.
Lying in wait, beneath its ordinary skin.
Waiting for its moment.
And when its moment comes.
And it breaks free.
You won’t see it coming.
But I will.
And I’ll be ready.
—River Wild
River
Eight Years Old
It’s Sunday.
I hate Sundays.
Sundays are when Mama goes to her weekly book club meeting. Sundays between five and seven p.m. are when Mama isn’t home.
Sunday between five and seven p.m. are when he hurts me.
But I can’t tell my mama that he hurts me.
He told me that he’d hurt her, too, if I told. He said no one would believe me anyway. Because he’s important.
My stepdaddy is the person you tell when someone hurts you.
He is a policeman.
The police are supposed to be good.
But he isn’t good.
He’s bad.
I’m in the backyard, playing with the new basketball Mama bought me for my eighth birthday last week.
She left five minutes ago.
I know what’s going to happen.
He’s going to make me go inside soon.
He’s going to make me do things that I don’t want to do.
He’s going to do things to me.
I throw the ball at the hoop that hangs on the side of the garage wall.
It goes in. Hits the concrete floor with a thump.
I walk over and pick it up.
I throw it through again.
Thump.
“River, come inside,” he calls from the kitchen.
I hate his voice.
I hate him.
I shut my eyes.
No.
The ball rolls back to me, bumping against my foot.
“Now,” he barks.
I take a breath. Open my eyes.
I pick my ball up, hugging it to my chest. I slowly walk inside, into the kitchen.
He’s standing against the kitchen counter.
“Shut the door,” he tells me.
I obey, turning and closing the back door.
“Come here.”
I don’t want to. Please don’t make me.
“Don’t make me tell you twice. You know what will happen if you do.”
I turn and walk over to him. My stomach starts to hurt.
I hold the ball tighter to my chest.
I stop a few feet away from him.
I don’t look at him. But I know he’s looking at me.
He reaches out and takes the ball from me, placing it on the counter behind him. There are the usual empty bottles of beer on there.
I see his gun belt lying on the counter, too.
His gun is still in it.
He never leaves it out like that. It’s always in his safe.
Why is it there?
My heart starts to beat faster.
“We’re going to play a new game today, River.”
My new daddy came and sat beside me on the floor in my room. “Do you want to play a game, River?”
“A game?” I asked excitedly. “I love games! What kind of game?”
He leaned closer to me. He smelled like stinky beer and sweat. I didn’t like the way he smelled.
“Well, this is a secret game,” he whispered. “Only good boys can play it.”
“I am a good boy! Miss Clarke says I’m the best behaved boy in her class.”
Miss Clarke was my teacher in first grade. I liked her. She smelled nice. She was pretty, too, but not as pretty as my mama. No one was as pretty as my mama.
“Okay, but if we play this game, you have to promise not to tell your mama that we played.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a secret game. One that mommies aren’t allowed to know about.”
“Okay.”
“Do you pinkie promise?”
“I pinkie promise. So, what’s the game called?”
He starts to unbuckle his pants.
I turn my face away. I stare at the picture tacked to the refrigerator. I drew it at school on Friday for Mama. It’s a picture of a p
uppy.
I really want a puppy.
I hear the clang of his buckle. The zip lowering.
My body starts to tremble.
“River.”
Please don’t make me do this.
His hand takes hold of my arm and pulls me to him.
His usual stench of beer and sweat hits me. I feel sick.
“Look at me, boy.”
I force my face his way. I stare at the wall behind him. I can’t look at him.
“We’re going to do something different today. You know how, when you’re a good boy for me, Daddy gives you that special treat.”
I shut my eyes.
“Well, you’re going to do that for me.”
“P-please … I-I d-don’t want to,” I whisper.
He slaps me across the face.
I start to cry.
He slaps me again, harder this time. He grabs hold of my face, fingers pinching my cheeks.
“Open your eyes, boy.”
I do as I was told. Tears run down my face.
“Stop fucking crying. Only babies cry. Are you a baby, River?”
“N-no.”
“Then, stop acting like one.” His face is bright red. His eyes are bulging. His fingers squeeze my face, hurting me more. “You will do as I tell you, boy. Because, if you don’t, you know what will happen.”
“I-I d-don’t want to play this g-game anymore,” I whispered. “I-I d-don’t think I like it.”
“Do you know what happens to little boys who break their promises, River?”
I shook my head.
“They go to jail, and they never see their mamas again.”
“I don’t want to go to jail! Please don’t take me to jail!”
“I won’t so long as you do what I tell you. Will you do exactly as Daddy tells you, River?”
I looked down at the floor. My hair fell into my eyes. It got wet from my tears.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered.
“What will happen, River?”
I force myself to look him in the eye. “I’ll go to jail. I’ll never see Mama again. She’ll be left alone with you, and you’ll have no choice but to hurt her.”
He smiles. It makes me hate him more.
“Is that what you want? You want me to hurt your mama, River?”
I take in a breath. “No, sir.”
“I didn’t think so.”
He strokes his fingers down my cheek. I clench my teeth.
“Now, I’m going to go and sit down at the kitchen table. You’re going to get me a beer from the fridge. When I’m done drinking it, our game will start. Understand?”
“Yes.”
I turn and walk over to the refrigerator. My hand shakes when I open the door. I clench it to make it stop. Then, I reach inside and get a beer from the top shelf. I twist the cap off and put it in the trash, trying to prolong the inevitable.
When I turn back around, I catch sight of his gun again.
It’s just sitting there, on the counter.
I look at him. He’s sitting on my chair at the table.
My chair.
He’s moved it out from under the table and turned it, so it’s facing me.
He’s also taken his pants off. He’s only wearing his shirt.
My insides tighten.
The bottle trembles in my hand.
My eyes go to the gun on the counter again.
“What are you waiting for, boy?” he barks. “Get over here.”
“River, get over here.” His hand thumped against the bed he was sitting on.
Mama’s bed.
He’d never brought me in here before to play his games.
It was always in my room.
I didn’t want to do this. Not in here.
My hands started to shake. They did that a lot now. Especially on Sundays.
I curled my fingers into my palm until my nails started to hurt my skin.
“Now, River.”
I walked over to the bed and stood in front of him.
He smiled.
I dug my nails deeper into my skin.
“River, I won’t tell you again! Get your ass over here! Now!”
“No!” I yell.
It’s like a thunderbolt has just hit the room.
I’ve never said no to him before. My whole body shudders with fear.
He stands up. “No?”
“I-I …”
“You dare to tell me no, boy?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. My heart is beating so fast. I’m so scared. I dig my nails into the palm of my free hand until I feel the skin break.
My eyes dart to the gun on the counter.
“River, it’s time to play, and Daddy has a brand-new game for us today.”
“I didn’t fucking think so. Now, get your ass over here, boy!”
My hand tightens around the beer bottle. I bring my eyes to his. “No,” I say again.
His face turns to stone. His head tips to the side. “The rules have changed, River. You tell me no one more time, and I’ll kill your mama the second she steps through the door. And, instead of you going to jail … I’ll keep you here with me. It’ll be just you and me here, alone, in this house. And I’ll do what I want to you, whenever I want. Just think … I’d be able to hide my baton in your holder every single fucking day if I wanted to.” He brushes his finger over his lips, smiling. “Actually, I like that idea more … so maybe I’ll just kill your mama anyway—”
“No!” I yell.
Then, the beer is on the floor and his gun is in my hands.
And I’m pointing it at him.
His eyes widen for a moment. Then, he laughs.
The sound hurts my ears.
“And just what do you think you’re gonna do with that, huh?”
My hands are shaking like an earthquake. The gun is so heavy.
“I-I …”
“I-I,” he mimics. “You what, boy? Speak up.” He cups his ear, making fun of me.
“I-I w-want you to l-leave!” I cry, lifting the gun higher. My arms are aching.
His head tips to the side. “Leave? I’m not leaving, River. I’m never leaving you. You’re my special boy. And Daddy loves his special boy so very much.”
“You’re so good, River. So special. Time to play a new game.”
“Stop! Just stop!” I scream. My head hurts so much. Everything hurts. I just want to stop hurting. “I just want you to stop! Leave me alone!”
“I-I d-don’t … w-want to p-play anymore.”
His hand grabbed my head, and he pushed my face into the pillow. “Be quiet. You’re spoiling the game.”
There wasn’t any air. I couldn’t breathe.
Mama, help me, please.
His hand released my head. I turned my face to the side and gulped in a breath.
“I don’t like that you made me do that.” He ran his hand over my hair, smoothing it down. “Will you be a good boy now?”
A tear rolled down my cheek. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re not going to shoot me, River. So, just put the fucking gun down.”
“I-I …”
The smell of beer …
Hot tears on my face …
Can’t breathe …
I’m scared …
Make it stop …
“Put the fucking gun down, you little shit!” he yells at me, taking a step closer.
“D-don’t c-come any c-closer!” I cry out. I hold the gun higher.
It’s hurting my arms.
But I can’t put it down.
If I put it down, he’ll … he’ll hurt me again.
He’ll hurt Mama.
I’m so scared.
I don’t know what to do.
“I-I d-don’t w-want to do g-games with you anymore! Please just leave me alone!”
“Just leave me alone!” he mimics. “Stop being a fucking crybaby. This is what boys do for their daddies. This is what I did for my daddy when I was your age, and I didn’
t cry about it! Do you have any idea how hard my life is, boy? I’m out there, risking my life every fucking day, earning money to put clothes on your back and food in your ungrateful belly! Now, you do what your father tells you and put that gun down!”
I’m so scared …
Can’t breathe …
“That’s my good boy, River. Daddy loves you. Daddy loves you so much.”
“You’re not my dad!” I scream. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”
I feel the gun slip in my hands. I grip it tighter.
Bang!
My body jolts backward.
My stepdad … he’s just standing there, staring at me. His hand is pressed against his stomach.
He moves his hand away, and there’s a red stain on his white shirt. He stares down at it. “Y-you fucking shot me,” he stutters. He never stutters. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” He lurches forward.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
My stepdad is on the floor now.
There’s blood everywhere.
The gun drops from my hands.
I look up, and Mama is standing in the doorway.
She looks scared. She starts to cry.
“What have you done, River?” she whispers.
I saved us, Mama. I saved us.
Annie
I glance at the man sitting across from me at the kitchen table. The man I married seven years ago.
The man I hate.
I stare at him with every ounce of my hidden contempt and hatred.
I’m leaving you.
The words echo in my head.
I wish I could say those three words out loud.
But I can’t.
Fear and a hundred other terrifying reasons keep them safely locked inside my head.
My finger lifts to my face, gently touching the swelling on my cheekbone, moving down to my split lip.
He sees me touching my face.
He frowns.
I drop my hand.
Last night’s beating was bad. He hit my face. That happens less often nowadays.
He doesn’t want people questioning bruises on my face.
So, when he beats me, the hits are to my body. Usually, the only violence that happens during sex is when he chokes me. He likes to do that often.
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