Hearts of Darkness: A Valentine's Day Bully Romance Collection

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  “She’s awake?” the nurse asks, with a team of others following her in. I nod toward her, and they get to work, checking her over and testing responses.

  They never notice when my eyes close and I slump over. Cora does though. Her monitors start beeping as she tries to get their attention, voice cracking when she calls my name. No one has even told her that the baby is gone. I force my eyes open briefly and give her a wobbly smile. Somehow, she understands, and her absolute panic is plain on her face.

  Chapter Four

  6 weeks later

  I’m crying. Again. It never ends, always weeping for one reason or another. Or no reason at all.

  I’m packing up the last of Kael’s belongings into a storage unit. They’d been shipped to the on-base housing, but since we’d never taken residence in the one assigned, pending our marriage, it had all been sitting in a room in the commissary waiting to be claimed. Frankly, I’m surprised they hadn’t tossed it all out.

  I am still in my crappy little one-room apartment, except now I have to pay exorbitant monthly rent since I’m no longer pregnant. And hadn’t that been a blow? I’d lost the baby and Kael on the same day. I found the letter Kael had left a note about in my purse, but haven’t had the courage to read it. I still don’t understand what happened. According to everyone else, he’d been fine. Refused to get checked out, if he had been examined or told anyone he hit his head on the window when the truck flipped, they may have found the clot that took him from me.

  Sighing, I pull down the rolling door and put the lock on, trying not to dwell on the what-ifs. It had taken weeks to recover enough to get off light-duty and be able to work again and deal with all the things that had piled up. The auto insurance was still in litigation. I’d gotten a payout from Kael’s life insurance through the military, but it mostly went to paying my hospital bills and subsequent doctor visits and testing. And of course, taking care of Kael. Keeping a roof over my head had been a priority as well, and the money was dwindling fast.

  I’m currently jobless and nearly broke and only now able to put in applications, but I still have some restrictions to abide by for the next few weeks before I finish my physical therapy and get a full all-clear. I wish Damien’s parents would just let the insurance pay out. I get that they’re pissed about their son, but I didn’t force him to get wasted and smash into us. The least they can do is let it pay out without a fight.

  AFTER FINALLY GETTING home and heating up a freezer meal in the microwave, I pull up my bank account.

  “Shit.” I’m going to be lucky to make it to the end of the month. No job, no career, no schooling past a high school diploma. And soon to be no apartment, as crappy as it is. And the crying baby next door is shattering my nerves.

  I have night terrors, not only about Damien, but about the wreck, the baby, and Kael, and the crying baby seems to set them off the worst. I get out my exercise bands and start my strengthening exercises, still weak muscles protesting the stronger ones, but they’re getting there. I’m sweating and huffing when there’s a knock on my door.

  When my yells to come in are ignored, I stop to answer it. Usually, it’s the upstairs neighbor boy trying to sell something for his school fundraiser. No one else, besides the landlord if I'm late on rent, ever comes by.

  I swing open the door, preparing my speech to let the little guy down gently.

  “Hey, Marshall. I can’t buy—You’re not Marshall, and you’re not selling overpriced candy.” I cock a hip and brace my foot on the inside of the door, ready to slam it as soon as an opportunity presents itself. “What do you want, Drake?”

  “Just a minute of your time, Cora. That’s all. Then I’ll leave.” Drake holds his hands up, a manilla folder in one and the other empty. I don’t believe he’s harmless, regardless of his actions; too many hinky things happen around him and his crew. Plus, his brother had been an absolute douche.

  “Fine, but you can do it here. I’m not letting you in.” I can be stubborn, and this is one of those times I’m not going to budge.

  He gives a gusty sigh but steps back and extends the folder. A tattoo of scales on his inner wrist catches my eye, and I’m struggling to keep myself from being pulled into a panic attack. It closely resembles the one I’d seen on Kael when the hospital staff had realized he was in distress after I’d woken up in the hospital. Only the pressure of the door being pushed in against my foot snaps me back to reality with a new terror—the kind of an invader pushing their way into your home against your wishes.

  “No, get out!” Drake immediately desists and backs up. I'm shaking and nauseous, but I'm not about to stand down.

  “Here, I’m laying it down. Read it, please. It’s the only offer my father is prepared to make.” Drake continues backing up until he hits the pavement to the parking lot in the gated apartment complex before he turns and gets into a shiny black BMW.

  I WAIT UNTIL HE’S GONE before darting out to grab the folder then get back inside, doing the chain, deadbolt, and doorknob lock. Feeling marginally better, I retreat to my bedroom and, plopping on my bed, open the folder.

  After making it through all the legalese, I get down to the heart of the deal.

  Attend the private university run by the same board as the highschool me and my step-brother had gone to.

  Finish all courses with a B+ average.

  Receive a monthly allowance, as well as room and board at the school.

  Comply with all clauses of the contract.

  If any clauses are broken, it is considered a voluntary withdrawal, and the offer is null and void.

  If the contract is accepted and then subsequently violated or the Plaintiff declines, there will be no other offer extended.

  There’s more in detail, but I ignore them for now. This is it. Either I take the deal, or I’ll be tied up in court for months, if not years, and I can’t afford it. They have to know that as well.

  I hang my head in defeat. If my parents would be half decent human beings and help at least somewhat or let me stay with them, as uncomfortable that would be on both our parts, I could have a chance to get caught up. Instead, they didn’t even extend their condolences, only reminded me that I was persona non grata to them.

  I weigh my options, even as I fight the tears. Stay here and be in debt and poor as poor gets and struggle for years at least to make it somewhere. Or, and it’s a hard pill to swallow—take the offer, get a professional education at an excellent, exclusive university, and have an allowance I can save up. If needed, I can choose a major that can keep me there for years, as long as I can hack it.

  It’s really a done deal, and I’m sure Drake's dad and his attorneys know it. I keep reading through all the details of the document. Some things I’ll have to consult my own attorney about. There are items that void it on their end as well, and if they do, it results in an astronomical payout. That’s something to consider at least. The other things are somewhat odd. Participation in club and school events, and there are specific ones required. It goes on with a dress code at those events, ect. Hopefully, I can get some of this revised since it’s absolutely ridiculous.

  I make a call to my attorney, and he can get me in first thing in the morning. Sleep is slow to come, and the ever-present nightmares plague me with an added twist of masks and robes and altars. I jerk upright in bed at a particularly gruesome one, covered in sweat, and decide to take a shower and give up on trying to sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Sitting on a straight-backed chair, fingers twisting together in nervousness, I wait for my attorney to finish perusing the papers Drake had brought me.

  “Well, Cordelia. You can try to propose some of the minor changes you’re concerned about, but if they stick to them, there really isn’t a lot to be done. Do you have a year for them to stall? I can eventually force them into court, but until then, can you survive?” My attorney, Mr. Basham, is kind and middle-aged, but he’s very clear-cut.

  The answer? No. I can’t make it another ye
ar. Not like this. Not without being homeless in the meantime.

  “No, but can you put the changes in there, and I’ll do the filing or whatever to avoid the extra charges? Sorry, but you’re right. I’m nearly tapped out.” I can feel the flags of color high on my cheekbones at having to admit it, and my twined knuckles clench, but pride doesn’t supply food, clothing, or a roof over my head.

  “Of course, and I’ll add my retainer to it as well. Most likely they’ll pay for it, and I can refund you whatever is left over.” I can’t decide if that’s a boon or not. My insurance refused to continue paying after they covered the victims that my truck had hit and the legal fees for those. I had hit the cap, and there wasn’t anything left over to cover going after Damien’s insurance company.

  Our history together didn’t help either. They were trying to say I’d provoked him by having Kael tell Jaeger, my step-brother, knowing it would get back to Damien. Blah, blah, blah. It was ridiculous, but a very real spin his attorneys (yes, plural) were trying to put on the incident.

  LEAVING THE OFFICE, I head to theirs and deliver the changes. The receptionist asks me to wait, and while I do, my palms start to sweat, and I'm actively trying to keep my hands separated so they don't give away how uncomfortable I am. I didn’t anticipate them going over them now. What if they say no? What if they want to change something else? I need to call Mr. Basham.

  I’m just reaching into my pocket to get my phone when a man in a suit comes out carrying papers. He’s looking right at me, and I’m going to guess he’s one of the attorneys. He extends his hand for mine when he gets close enough, and I grudgingly let him have it, pulling back and giving it a surreptitious wipe on my jean-clad thigh when he lets go.

  “Hello, you must be Miss Cora. I’ve heard so much about you!” What the hell? He’s heard about me?

  “Umm... yes, I’m Cora, but I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are.”

  “Oh, yes! Please forgive me. I’m Damien’s Uncle Chaz, a partner with the firm here. Terrible thing that happened. If you’ll follow me, please.” Dude is an odd duck, and I’m tempted to walk out. I try to stall, really not wanting to go in the back with him.

  “Maybe we can stay here. I didn’t bring my attorney. I was just dropping the papers off.” Polite seems the way to go in this situation.

  “Yes, of course, My apologies, again. I’ve consulted my client, and he’s amenable to all the changes you proposed. If you’d like to sign it now, we can.” They accepted them all? Even the money? It sounded too good to be true.

  “I’d feel more comfortable calling my attorney first.” Not waiting for his agreement or otherwise, I whip out my phone and cross my fingers that he answers. Thank goodness he does. “Mr. Basham, it’s Cora. They want to accept the changes and have me sign the papers?”

  “Cora, that’s excellent. Bring them back here and let me look them over again just to be sure, and we’ll get them done and filed this afternoon.” He hangs up, and I relay the directive to Chaz. He seems slightly disappointed, but I ignore his peculiarity.

  “Don’t forget, Miss Cora, once it’s filed, you have seventy-two hours to report to the university and complete your enrollment. Have a nice day now.” He ushers me out of the office, and I feel like I just escaped being the fly in a giant spider web.

  2 DAYS LATER

  I’m here, at the gates to my new school. It’s not terribly far off from where I’d lived most of my life with my parents. Blackbriar University, more commonly known as Blackbriar Academy due to the set-up and requirements made of the students, is as imposing as it is elite. I know I had the grades to get in, and most likely would have, had I applied and had the funds to attend.

  Fuck, I miss Kael. And I miss my baby. This isn't where I was supposed to end up. Stifling the urge to break down, I center myself and pull up to the booth.

  Driving through the open gates after showing the attendant my identification, I park in the visitors’ lot. My small SUV is a lot more economical on the gas in regards to mileage than my big truck had been, and it’s also easier to park. Paperwork in hand, I lock up and hike my purse strap on my shoulder. It’s a bit of a walk to the entrance, and I take in the pristine courtyard, fountain included, as I pass through it. There aren’t any students roaming, and I’m not sure if that’s due to the term not having begun yet or if it’s always this sedate. I hope not, or it’s going to be a long few years.

  It takes a few minutes of waiting at the office to get in to a counselor for registration, and I use the opportunity to try to memorize the headshots of the staff with their names. Some are dour as I’d expected, but they’re all middle-aged or older. Which is why it’s a surprise when a youngish man comes out to greet me.

  “Hello, I’m Mr. Jacobsen. You must be Cordelia,” he greets me, with an outstretched hand that I feel comfortable giving him as his manner is so easygoing. “Let’s get you on back and get everything squared away. I’ll have one of the students on-site show you to the dorms when we’re finished.”

  I follow him through a door and down a few offices until we reach a door marked Alexander Jacobsen. “Here, take a seat, and I’ll take your papers.” He rounds his desk, and I sit while he brings something up on his computer and begins comparing my information to what he has on file. “Everything matches up. Now, for the classes and extracurriculars.”

  BY THE TIME HE’S DONE, I have a pile of forms to fill out, a full schedule, and slips to get my books and other supplies. My room and board cover everything from meals, to uniforms, to a laptop, and phone, books, anything needed really, other than street clothes or anything off-campus. I could get used to this if the reason behind it wasn’t so awful, and I have to struggle to stay in the present and not get sucked into my constant misery. I’m not sure what else I’ll need an allowance for other than basic bills. I’m keeping my own phone plan, car insurance, and the couple credit cards, plus the storage unit. Not much else besides fuel and toiletries, if I don’t like those provided by housekeeping, yes, they have housekeeping.

  I nearly stumble over my feet when a familiar unwelcome face is waiting to be my escort. It was to be expected that I’d run into Drake's little posse, and my step-brother will be around as he’s a year ahead, same as Damien would have been. Like I said, it was pretty much expected to go from my high school, Mooreton High, to Blackbriar.

  “Ashton.” I tip my chin at him, the best I can manage without bodily harm. He, or any one of them could have stopped Damien. I start counting my breaths, in and out, as unobtrusively as possible. Worry registers in Ash’s eyes as it's apparent I’m struggling, despite my efforts, but he heads off Mr. Jacobsen as he comes out behind me, and I can only be slightly grateful for it. I’d managed to avoid the counseling he’d tried to foist off on me. I’ve gone through a couple months of it and taken the meds, and I’ve managed to wean myself off the daily ones without too much of an issue. I have them on hand for panic attacks or sleeping pills for the bad nights when I need sleep, and those put me out further than the dreams can reach.

  “Cordelia, you know Mr. Reid already?” Ash’s tactics are thwarted, but I’ve had a moment to catch my breath at least.

  “We’re acquainted; we attended Mooreton together.” I leave it at that, and Mr. Jacobsen wishes me luck and tells me to come see him if I need anything at all before leaving me with Ash. “Well, lead the way, dorms first please, if you don’t mind.” Mr. Jacobsen had made me two keycards for my room and to use for incidentals on campus, and I am more than ready to unload my arms.

  “Here, let me take those.” I hug my papers to me more tightly when Ashton tries to take them. Apparently, I'm not quite ready to let them go after all. “Suit yourself.” His tone is clipped, and I give him space as he leads me to the dormitory.

  There’s one. With three wings and six floors, the building houses a thousand students give or take a few. That’s how elite Blackbriar is. I have a detailed map I'll be going over as soon as I'm settled to find my classes. I have the
rest of today and tomorrow to acquaint myself with the grounds.

  “You should drop all this and leave. It’s not worth it, you know?” Ash finally speaks up after we’re outside and halfway to the dormitory.

  “How would you know what is and isn't worth it to me? Maybe if you all hadn’t fucked up my life, I wouldn’t have been forced into this. But we both know that’s your specialty where Damien is concerned, don’t we?” Ash pales at the venom and truth in my words. The night of the wreck isn’t the only time he’s been culpable regarding Damien.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stopping Damien was like trying to stop a train that's gone off its tracks.” He swallows hard, and I’m sure there’s some truth to his words, but I really don’t care.

  “What happened, Ash? You wanted to date that summer, remember? We went out on a few that ended up at that cabin Drake and Damien’s parents own on the lake. It was supposed to be us and your friends and maybe a couple girls they brought too. How did that end up with Jag and Damien crashing it and me losing my boyfriend and my virginity and gaining a stalker? Care to explain that one? ‘Cuz no one else has ever bothered.” We’re to the steps leading up to the dorm entrance now, and Ash is making a big to-do about using the keycard reader.

  “I can’t talk about that night. You wouldn’t understand or believe me.” The last bit is so quiet that I barely catch it.

  “You’re right. I don’t believe a thing you have to say. Just hurry up and get this tour over with. I can’t stand being near you.” His expression turns stony as he leads me into the elevator, remaining silent as we go up to the sixth floor where my room is located.