Copyright ©2017 Cassia Brightmore
Unworthy is a work of fiction and non-fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
First eBook edition: 2017
Edited By: Beyond the Click: Photography and Publishing Services
Cover Design: © Ashbee Designs
Cover Model: Cassia Brightmore Model
Photographer: LJ Photography
Information address: [email protected]
http://www.cassiabrightmoreauthor.com/
Dedication
Dear Reader
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Take A Look: Lincoln Hospital
To every survivor out there. For those that walk in the dark, breathe in the unknown, and still manage to emerge into the light.
You are my heroes.
For my mother, Christine, you were, are and always will be my savior.
Dear Reader,
Well what can I say? If you've picked up a copy of this book, let me start by thanking you for taking a chance on my work. Your support and encouragement means the world to me. Unworthy is classed as a dark romance, however it is very unlike any of my other dark romance titles. Sorry, no serial killers here haha. But don't worry, there still is a few twists, twists you would expect from a Cassia Brightmore book, including an ending that I don't think (well I hope) you won't see coming.
This book has been a year in the making, and if I'm being very honest, I've struggled with getting it released into the world. You see, the story of Maisie is my story. Her journey is my journey, her pain is my pain, her successes are my successes. While yes, there is fictional pieces of the plot added in for entertainment value, the bare bones of her story are my experiences.
So, why did I decide to release this book into the world, you ask? Well my hope is that anyone else that has had a similar journey to mine can find meaning in this book. My wish is that you discover that if you find strength in the things in life that try to break you down, you can still turn things around and make a better life for yourself. No matter what obstacles life hands us, there is always a chance to find the way through them. Don't give up, and above all else, don't doubt your ability to shine.
Behind every smile, every laugh, there is a human being hiding some sort of personal pain. Remember to always be kind to each other, to not give up, and to fight until you get the treatment that you deserve. Be brave, be fierce, be you.
You are worth it.
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
Much love always,
Cassia Brightmore
Rejection can pierce you harder than the sharpest blade; annihilate your self-worth, leave your confidence crushed into a pile of ashes.
Rejection is the silent killer, it sneaks up on you when you least expect it; creeps in and smashes through your happiness.
Rejection is what she lived with everyday.
Inescapable.
Unkillable.
Undeniable.
Rejection is what would ultimately tear her apart.
1986
The TV blared loudly in the background as sirens raced down the street on the fictional crime show. Coupled with the real-life sounds of the busy downtown street the apartment complex faced, the small home was anything but tranquil.
Maisie ignored it all and continued with her work. Concentration wrinkled her brow as she painstakingly put the finishing touches on her own little masterpiece. Pleased, she scooted backwards and using the coffee table that had been her makeshift workstation for support, she gained her feet. Fear and excitement danced inside her as the moment came when she would finally share her creative piece with someone. Maybe now her mother would understand how much she loved her; how much just an ounce of approval would mean to her.
"Mama?" she whispered, approaching her with caution. Her mother was sprawled in one of the single pieces of furniture in their living room. A tattered, stained brown recliner. She was staring blankly at the television, eyes unmoving. At the sound of Maisie's voice, she grunted; her only acknowledgement that she'd spoken at all. Digging deep for courage, Maisie stepped forward and with a shaky hand, held the paper out to her.
"Mama. I finished it, I wanted you to see." Her mother snapped her head towards her, pinning her in place with a cold, dark-eyed stare. Her midnight black hair was sticking straight up on one side and there was a smear of red lipstick halfway up her right cheek.
"What you fuck do you want? Can't you see I'm in no mood for your shit, Maisie?" she hissed. She raised one brow, impatiently waiting for a reply.
"B—b—but I made it. I made it for you, Mama," Maisie tried to explain. Again, she offered the paper to her mother, still holding out hope that her work would be looked upon with praise instead of ridicule and disdain.
With a huff, her mother snatched the paper from her hand, uncaring that a corner of it tore away from her rough handling. Gazing down at it, she sneered. "This is what you're bugging the shit out of me about? Jesus fucking Christ, Maisie, you're almost four years old. Grow up and stop acting like a goddamn baby." With one savage yank, she tore the paper in half and let the two pieces flutter to the floor.
Maisie let out a wail, her heart broken at seeing her hard work discarded. Her mother lurched from the chair and let her arm fly, delivering a stinging backhand to Maisie's little cheek. The force of the blow sent her to floor, landing on her knees beside her ruined drawing. Tears leaked from her eyes and dripped down onto the paper, smearing the faces of both her and her mother.
The sound of cupboards and drawers being opened and slammed shut filled the room as her mother continued her rage. Finding what she was looking for, she stomped back into the room.
"Get up and throw that shit away. I've got company coming and I don't need you in the way fucking things up. Enough with that damn wailing!" she yelled, furious that Maisie as still in tears. She gripped the needle between her teeth and yanked off the cap. Stretching her left arm straight out, she flicked her inner elbow a few times and then slid the needle under her skin. Closing her eyes, she let out a small moan as the bliss from the heroin started to fill her.
Pushing her straight, light brown hair from her eyes, Maisie hastily scooped up her drawing and held the pieces to her chest.
"I—I—I'm sorry, Mama," she choked out through her sobs. Her mother rolled her eyes and gave Maisie a hard shove towards her bedroom.
"Don't be fucking sorry. Saying you're sorry means nothing, Maisie, how many times do I have to tell you that? Don't be sorry. Be better. Be something more than a pain in my goddamn ass all the time. Who am I kidding? That's all you'll ever be, as yo
u don't fucking listen. Get out of my sight," she ordered, and turned her back, dismissing her.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, and touching a hand to her throbbing cheek gingerly, Maisie retreated to her small room, defeated. Looking down at the drawing, she wished with all her heart that the picture she had drawn was reality. That just once her mother's eyes would shine with love when she looked at her, instead of throwing out daggers of anger and fury. In the picture, she was standing in the park across the street from their apartment with her mother, their arms wrapped around each other. The sun was shining, and she'd drawn a few children playing on the swings. In the blades of green grass, she'd written in red crayon, I luv you.
Her hope had been that her Mama would look at the picture and say the words back to her. Words she had longed to hear her entire life. At her pre-school, the other mommies and daddies said those words when they dropped off the other children. Maisie's mother never did. She was always reminded that she, "Better not fuck up or cause any shit."
Sinking to the floor in the corner of her room, she pulled her legs up to her chest and let her head fall down onto her knees. A feeling of shame washed over her, why couldn't she do anything right? Her Mama was always so mad. She needed to be a better little girl if she wanted her Mama to love her. Next time, maybe she'd draw a picture of a cat. Her Mama liked cats. It had always been just the two of them, no siblings and no father around. Once, she'd dared to ask about her daddy, wishing that she could have one like the other kids in her class. Her question had earned her a split lip and the silent treatment for three days. "What the fuck do you need a daddy for, huh? You've got me. Don't I do enough for you, Maisie? Always bugging the hell out of me for something. Maybe I should just put you out on the street like the trash if you're going to be so ungrateful for all I do for you."
"No, Mama. I don't want to go in the garbage."
"Then you better smarten up real fast."
More tears silently tracked down her cheeks at the memory. She didn't mean to make her Mama so mad. She tried to be a good girl. A few hiccups escaped, and she clamped her hand over her mouth, not wanting her Mama to hear. After a while, her eyelids got heavy and in her dark, lonely room, she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of ways she could make her Mama love her.
A persistent banging sound woke Maisie some time later, and she slowly blinked her eyes open. She rubbed them with her tiny fists, in an attempt to rid the crusty bits gathered in the corners as a result of crying herself to sleep. At some point, she'd slumped down and was curled up on the floor. Rolling over, she sat up and wondered what the loud sounds were. Creeping to her bedroom door, she turned the knob and poked her head out into the hall.
"Yeah, that's it, Allison. Take it, you fucking whore. Take it all!" A man's voice roared out. Curious, Maisie followed the voice down the short, barren hallway. Their apartment was two bedrooms, with a small, closet-sized bathroom, living room and eat-in kitchen. Stopping near her mother's door, a loud moaning sound had her peering inside, even though her instincts were shouting at her that she shouldn't spy.
There was a man on top of her Mama. He was moving fast, so fast that the headboard was banging on the wall. In fascination, Maisie stared at them. Their clothes were missing and the man had his hands in her Mama's hair, pulling and pulling. Didn't that hurt? She wanted to scream out, to tell the bad man to stop hurting her Mama, but fear kept her silent as she watched.
All of a sudden, both her Mama and the man let out a loud yell and her Mama started bucking, arching her back off the bed. She was trying to get away! Maisie darted into the room without another thought.
"Stop it! Stop! You're hurting my Mama!" she cried. They both froze and turned their heads towards where she stood shaking in the doorway.
"What the fuck is this, Allison? You've got some kid here?" the man demanded, sliding off her and tugging on a pair of dark denim jeans. Allison sat up and pushed her hair away from her sweaty forehead. Her pupils were huge, making her usual brown eyes look almost black. Uncaring that she was naked, her breasts heaved up and down as fought to catch her breath.
"Fucking hell. Maisie, get out of here now. Always a pain in my goddamn ass." Maisie stood frozen in her spot under her mother's hateful glare. The man had finished getting dressed and now advanced on her.
"Patrick, forget about her. Come back to bed, baby." Allison laid back on the pillows and spread her legs, trying to seduce him back to her side. Patrick ignored her and reaching Maisie, grabbed her by the upper arm, his nails digging in deep. She let out a cry and thrashed, trying to pull away, but it was no use.
"I don't like being interrupted. Especially by some snot-nosed little kid," his voice was low and dangerous, his grip tightening even further. Maisie swung her eyes to her mother, silently begging for help. Allison, just regarded the situation with disinterest, as she grabbed a needle from the nightstand beside the bed and plunged it into her waiting vein.
"Seems you need to be taught some manners, little girl. You need to learn that the adults don't need some nosy little brat poking around in their business. Haven't you been taught any respect?" Maisie began to cry, her breath hitching as panic and fear danced along her skin. Determined not to make things worse for herself, she kept her sobs inside.
Her defiance seemed to only anger Patrick further and as quick as a snake, his fist shot out and connected with the side of her face. She would have been knocked to the ground if not for the fact that he still held her arm in an iron grip.
"Answer me, you little bitch," he seethed. When Maisie still remained silent, her wide eyes locked on his, his temper snapped. Tossing her arm away from him, he whipped off his belt. "Well, I guess you haven't been taught any manners or respect. Let's see what we can do about that."
For the first time in her young life, real terror rose in Maisie and her brave front fell. The second she felt the first lick of Patrick's leather belt, she did the one thing she always tried not to. She screamed.
Maisie opened her eyes and slowly took in her surroundings. There was a quiet beeping noise and her arm seemed to be stuck up in the air. Glancing up, she saw it was wrapped in something white and hung from a sling. There was a strange woman standing at the foot of the bed she was lying in, staring at her.
"Hello, Maisie. How are you feeling?" the woman's tone was gentle. She had kind blue eyes and short gray hair. Uncertainty kept her silent, she'd been taught never to answer questions to strangers. It made Mama mad.
"My name is Eve. You're in the hospital, but you'll be able to leave today, or at least that's what the doctor's have told me," she gave her a warm smile.
Confusion wrinkled her brow and she shifted in the strange bed. A whimper escaped her as pain ricocheted through her body, the most severe being a dull throbbing between her legs. Eve moved quickly to her side and took her hand.
"Just try to lay still, love. You don't want to make the pain any worse. Maisie, we're going to go and talk to a Judge today. Do you know what a Judge is?"
Maisie nodded, she'd seen one on the TV before. It was a man that wore long robes and sat in a tall chair giving orders.
"Good. That's real good to hear, sweetie. He's just going to ask you some questions and then you're going to be able to leave with a very caring family. Doesn't that sound nice?" Eve continued.
Leave? But what about her Mama? Where was her Mama? Her gaze darted around the strange room with the white walls and beeping machines, but there was no sign of her. Eve must have guessed what her thoughts were as she answered her unspoken question.
"Your mother isn't here, Maisie. But you'll get to see her when we go talk to the Judge," she explained. Relieved, Maisie relaxed back into the pillows. Her Mama was coming. She hadn't thrown her out like the garbage. She was coming. With that comforting thought, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
Several hours later, Maisie sat beside Eve in what she'd called the Judge's "chambers." Maisie didn't know what that meant, it was a big room with se
veral chairs and a large oak desk occupied by a strange man wearing the familiar robes from the TV shows she'd seen.
There was a couple sitting off to her left and her Mama, her Mama was there sitting beside a police man. She had funny silver bracelets around her wrists, but she was there. She hadn't left her behind.
"Good afternoon, everyone," the man behind the desk began. "I'm Judge Clayton. We're here today to discuss the case of Maisie Gallagher."
Maisie raised her head at the sound of her name. Was she in trouble? Allison scoffed from across the room.
"That damn brat causing all this trouble. Look, Judge, this is all a misunderstanding. I'll take Maisie home now and we can forget any of this—" Allison was cut off by the Judge.
"Stop right there, Ms. Gallagher. You won't be leaving here with that child, today or any day if I have my way. The condition that she was brought to the hospital in indicates severe malnutrition as well as signs of past and present abuse. Based on the testimony of the neighbor that called 911, and the physicians that examined Maisie, it's the decision of this court that the child, Maisie Gallagher, become a ward of the state. God willing, she will get a better chance at life than she's been given."
Allison let out a hiss. "You think you can take her from me? That kid is a damn liar! I never did anything except provide for her and put a roof over her fucking head. This is bull—"
"Enough." Judge Clayton ordered. "You will be silent or be held in contempt of this court. Ms. Gallagher, to be frank, I do not believe a word you say. You're a disgrace as a mother. Your case will be handed over to the prosecutors to decide whether or not they press further charges. In the meantime, I suggest you get into some sort of rehab and get yourself clean. Ms. Tate," he nodded at Eve. "Based on your recommendation, Maisie will be placed in the temporary care of the Pierce's." His gaze settled on the couple briefly. "This is a foster care situation until permanent adoption can be arranged."
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