Every Wound We Mend

by J. E. Parker

  Every Wound We Mend

  The Final Redeeming Love Novel

  J.E. Parker

  Copyright © 2021 by J.E. Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by the copyright law.

  Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For the Survivors.

  This one is for us, y’all!

  “I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river; to me you’re everything that exists; the reality of everything.”

  —Virginia Woolf, Night and Day

  Contents

  1. James

  2. Jade

  3. Carmen

  4. James

  5. James

  6. Carmen

  7. Carmen

  8. James

  9. Carmen

  10. Carmen

  11. James

  12. Carmen

  13. James

  14. Carmen

  15. Carmen

  16. James

  17. Carmen

  18. James

  19. Carmen

  20. James

  21. Carmen

  22. Carmen

  23. James

  24. James

  25. Carmen

  26. Carmen

  27. Carmen

  28. James

  29. Carmen

  30. James

  31. Carmen

  32. James

  33. Carmen

  34. James

  35. Carmen

  Epilogue

  Series Epilogue

  Also by J.E. Parker

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  About the Author

  James

  A hurricane raged inside my chest.

  Fueled by a lifetime of toxic hatred and crippling grief, it battered my fractured heart, further destroying it with every anguished second that ticked by.

  Soon, it would shatter entirely.

  And when it did, my vicious cycle of mistakes and continual failures, both of which had led to me losing the only woman who'd ever laid claim to my fucked-up soul, would deal the final blow.

  My boiling blood ran cold at the thought.

  Veins filling with what felt like chunks of jagged ice, I fisted my hands and raced through downtown Toluca, my sneaker-covered feet pounding the cracked sidewalk in time with my hammering pulse.

  Sweaty form enveloped by the darkness of the breezy night, I watched as bolts of lightning flashed in the distance, warning of the violent storms to come.

  It was a warning I didn't heed.

  Chest aching and teetering on the edge of delirium, I ignored the way the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the storm cell drew closer.

  Not giving a single damn about the danger surrounding me, I pumped my legs harder, demanding my body move faster as the wind intensified and whipped around the dark buildings that loomed around me, trying its damnedest to prevent me from reaching the place where the other half of my heart's ghostly presence still lingered, calling out to my dying soul like a siren's song.

  Calves on fire, I turned the last corner.

  Vision locking on the abandoned paper mill, more than one memory, all of them linked to some of the most beautiful moments of my life, surfaced.

  Agony then seared my soul.

  I made it halfway up the narrow city alleyway before the inky sky opened up and allowed an ocean of rain to begin falling.

  Plummeting to earth in sheets of tepid water, the heavy drops struck my unshaven face like needles, mixing with the hot tears that stained my cheeks as lightning danced above me.

  I half expected a bolt to strike me down.

  Part of me wished it would.

  Death would have equaled mercy from the excruciating torment that occupied the gaping void losing Carmen had created. Too bad a reprieve was a gift I didn't deserve. Not after the many wrongs I'd committed and the devastating pain I'd inflicted.

  For my sins, I had to suffer.

  Until the very end.

  Reaching the side of the mill, I climbed the steps on autopilot, driven purely by the need to inhale the same air my woman had once breathed.

  Without a grave to visit, a tombstone to lay flowers upon, or a single picture to look at, being here, where she'd sought refuge from the piece of shit who'd ripped her away from me twenty-three days before, was the only solace I had.

  Temples pulsating with rage at the reminder of her pimp, I moved through the dreary building and descended the crumbling basement steps, taking them two at a time.

  At the bottom, my feet stopped.

  Right along with my ruined heart.

  Physically, I was a hell of a lot stronger than most. But no matter the power I carried in my muscled body, I lacked the strength needed to continue standing once a familiar scent met my nose and bled into my chest, threatening to split it wide open.

  Wildflowers and sunshine.

  Although light, Carmen's essence remained, drowning out the mildew that clung to the walls, permeating the stuffy air.

  Lungs freezing after drawing in a single ragged breath, I dropped like a two-ton rock as the pain that swirled behind my sternum crested.

  Knees crashing onto the dusty concrete where she’d spent her final nights, a raucous bellow tore free of my throat.

  "Carmen!" I yelled, finally speaking her name aloud, something I rarely allowed myself to do on account of the misery each beautiful syllable called forth. "Baby...”

  I miss you.

  I love you.

  I'm so damned sorry.

  Eyes slamming closed, I laced my trembling fingers behind my head when pain took hold and tears slid down my face, erasing my ability to speak.

  Psyche on the verge of fracturing, I rocked back and forth, body quaking, my tattered heart crying out for mercy from the sorrow that never ceased to remind me of everything I'd lost.

  And single-handedly destroyed.

  "I'm so s-sorry," I stuttered, my voice weak and barely coherent. "For the promises I broke, and for the vows I didn't keep. But mostly because I didn't go with you that night." If I had, she and the girls would've still been alive.

  Their deaths were on me.

  "I should have demanded that you wait for me, that you let me help you, but I didn't." I'd fucked up so badly, and it had cost me a lot more than I'd ever been willing to pay. "Instead, I let that motherfucker steal you away from me."

  Memories, dark and tragic, stirred.

  "Just like I let my father steal my mother."

  Self-hatred exploded inside me.

  Rancid disgust followed.

  Heavy eyelids opening, I righted my bowed head and stared across the quiet room, where various plastic grocery bags, along with a rusted metal bucket and wrinkled mass of yellow cotton, littered the otherwise empty floor.

  I swallowed at the sight of the sunny fabric.

  Even immersed in grief, I recognized it.

  Unaware that I was even moving, I crawled forward, hands shaking worse than when I was in the throes of withdrawal after ending my decade and a half long relationship with a bottle of Jack.

  Stopping in the center of the plastic bags, atop where my beautiful woman had once slept, I picked up the simple dress she'd worn on our first date.

  It was the same night I'd spilled my darkest secrets to her, and in return, she'd accepted each one, along with my tarnished heart, without judgme
nt.

  The memory crushed me.

  Crumpling the soft fabric into a ball, I pressed it to my face, where it absorbed my falling tears. Spiraling headfirst into madness, I roared into the darkness, allowing the heartbreak rending me in half to takeover.

  Quickly losing my waning grip on reality, I stood no chance of stopping my demons when they rushed forward and sunk their razor-like claws into my muddled conscience.

  Dancing to the beat of their own wicked laughter, they smiled sinisterly and dragged me back to the place I'd spent almost three decades fighting to escape.

  Hell.

  Twenty-Nine Years Before

  My head was close to exploding.

  With mounting pressure building between my temples, I helplessly watched Mama pace in the kitchen, her trembling fingers clutching her nightgown-covered hips.

  Face red as could be, she turned at the end of each lap, giving me repeated glimpses of her tear-streaked face as she mumbled to herself in Spanish, something she only did when she was distraught.

  Which, speaking of, I'd never seen her so upset and downright ticked off in all my fourteen years. And knowing that it was me who'd caused her such distress? Well, that gutted me like nothing ever had before.

  I loved my mama.

  A whole lot.

  Honest to God, I hadn't meant to shatter her heart in a moment of weakness hours earlier, but after three years of torture, I couldn't keep the truth of what my father had been doing to me behind closed doors hidden from her a second longer.

  The shame and fear I harbored ran deep, but my desperation to make the pain end ran even deeper. It had to stop. Right then. If it didn't, I feared I'd do something foolish that would leave Mama's heart in permanent shambles.

  Everyone had their breaking point.

  I had reached mine.

  Standing from the plastic-covered floral sofa where I'd spent the last thirty minutes crying like a baby instead of the teenager I was, I scrubbed my damp palms down my wet cheeks, smearing my partially dried tears.

  "Mama, let's just go." I glanced down the hall toward the master bedroom where a monster lurked, likely drooling as he fantasized about his next assault. One that would leave me bloody and more broken than I already was. "Let's just get in the car and drive. We can figure out the rest once we're out of—"

  "No, mijo." Coming to a sudden standstill, she gazed at the cornmeal-dusted kitchen island, jaw ticking. "Your father will follow us if we try to run. It's why I haven't left him yet. I've always known that we needed to get away, but I feared what he'd do if we ran, and he found us."

  Tongue raking across her trembling bottom lip, she shook her head. "But if I had known that he was hurting you too, I swear I would've stopped him."

  I didn't doubt that one bit.

  Mama was loving and kind, but more than that, she was as protective as any mama bear. She may have endured my father smacking her around for more years than she ever should've, but if she had known what he was doing to me after she fell asleep in a fit of tears each night, she would have slit his throat long ago.

  I was her son, her mijo.

  I was her entire world.

  "I know you would have," I whispered, chin dipping. "But I couldn't tell you. Not when...”

  The shame made doing so impossible.

  Hearing the words I couldn’t speak aloud, she nodded. "I understand." Wracked with sadness, she visibly swallowed. "Just as I understand that this has to end tonight. As your madre, I have failed you, but I will not do so a second longer."

  My brow furrowed.

  She was talking crazy.

  How had she failed me?

  She hadn't even known!

  "Mama, you didn't—"

  My mouth snapped shut with a teeth-jarring clank when she reached forward and ripped a brand-new butcher knife from the expensive wooden block she'd bought hours earlier.

  Sharp as could be, the blade glinted beneath the stark fluorescent light above her as she gripped it tightly and turned her head, meeting my panicked gaze with her wild, determined one.

  "I love you, James," she said, squaring her delicate shoulders. "And it's time I make it so that your father can never hurt you again."

  Realization of what she was stupidly about to do dawned, striking me with the force of a two-by-four to the face.

  No, no, no.

  I can't let her do this!

  "Now, go to your room." She pointed the tip of the blade at my closed door. "And no matter what you hear, you do not come out until I call for you."

  I got no chance to object, something I was half a second from doing, before she took off like a shot toward her bedroom, which was in my direct line of sight.

  Frozen with fear that crackled beneath my skin like an electric pulse, my chest rose and fell in rapid succession as I remained rooted to the spot where I stood, unintentionally disobeying her demand.

  Thundering pulse filling my ears, I watched her storm through her bedroom and slam her petite body into the locked bathroom door, shoulder first, busting it wide open.

  "What the fuck, Sofia?" The fear possessing me multiplied when my father ripped back the fish-covered shower curtain, revealing himself inside the blue tile-covered cove where he stood. "What in Christ's name do you think you're—"

  “You sick hijo de perra!”

  They were the only words my mother screamed before lunging at my father, who stood stationary beneath the steamy spray, his nude body covered in mint-scented soap; the smell of which turned my stomach each time I caught a whiff.

  With a piercing cry, she plunged the knife forward, hell-bent on ridding the world of the demon who'd had a hand in hurting us both.

  The blade missed my father by inches.

  Jerking to the right, he dodged what would have been a lethal strike to his throat and wrapped a lightning-quick hand around her wrist.

  It was the beginning of the end.

  Latching onto the bottomless evil that filled his chest, the bastard shoved her backward while fighting to maintain his hold.

  Feet hitting water, she slipped.

  And together, they fell.

  Audible grunts echoed through the house as they crashed to the tile floor in a heap of flesh and bones.

  A second scream, one that belonged to Mama, reverberated through the house as she somehow ripped free of his hold.

  Without pausing, she swung the knife in his direction, taking on a man more evil than the devil himself.

  Doing so was a mistake on her part.

  Big time.

  A pain-driven wail rocketed down the hall and slammed into me, burning itself into my memories when he grabbed her wrist again and ripped the knife free of her shaking hand.

  Panicked, she went for his eyes. "James!" Voice filled with spine-tingling fear, she clawed at him with her blush-pink nails, fighting to rend him blinder than an Appalachian cave bat. "Run!"

  Swamped with dread, my body numbed, but knowing that she was in dire trouble—trouble I'd caused—I forced myself to react, not giving myself a chance to second guess my actions.

  Determined to save her, I raced to her side, doing the exact opposite of what she'd demanded.

  I couldn't let her die.

  Especially not by his hand.

  Reaching the open bathroom door, I came to a sliding stop atop the wet tile in time to see my smiling father plunge the stainless-steel blade deep into her chest, ripping the fabric of her favorite nightgown and tearing her tanned skin.

  Screams—mine—filled the air.

  A whole new level of terror rushed me, taking hold as blood spilled from the gaping wound marring her chest when my father yanked the blade free and then slammed it into her again.

  Needing to do something before he killed her, I frantically looked around, searching for something to attack him with. Spotting a heavy-based ceramic lamp to my left, I grabbed it.

  Holding it tight, I lunged for him.

  No hesitation.

  Consum
ed with the need to rip my beautiful mother from me by stealing her life, he never saw me, his favorite victim, coming.

  Whack!

  The ceramic cracked against the back of his skull, splintering into a million jagged little pieces.

  Eyes widening in surprise, he swayed, and I pulled back my shaking fist, ready to bash his ugly face in.

  Only, I never got the chance.

  Knocked stupid, he collapsed, and I prayed with everything inside me he was dead and on his way to Hell, where with any luck, he'd spend eternity roasting on the devil's spit.

  Releasing the broken neck of the lamp, I dropped to my bony knees and pushed the demon blanketing my mother's weakening body to the side with a violent shove.

  Limp, he rolled and smacked into the toilet, giving me a glimpse of the bloodied hair and torn skin covering the back of his head. My furious heart wanted to roar in triumph at the sight.

  “Mijo."

  I looked down at my mother, whose hand weakly clutched the front of my t-shirt. Specks of blood flew past her paling lips when she coughed.

  "I'm not going to… m-make it."

  No!

  Shaking my head, I ripped my shirt off and pressed it against a wound at the base of her throat. It was the largest, the bloodiest, and the one that would be her end if I didn't do something.

  "Don't talk, Mama." My voice trembled. "Just be quiet and breathe, okay? Because that's what you've gotta do. Breathe."

  Fresh tears spilled.

  Landing on her injured torso, they mixed with the crimson river flowing down her sides and pooling on the floor.