Break Me: The Beginning Read online

  Break Me

  The Beginning

  Sapphire Bay High Series

  Naomi Martin

  Disclaimer:

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  No part of this eBook 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 written permission from the author.

  The methods/actions described within this eBook are the author’s personal thoughts, as no characters, places, or events are based on anything considered “real.”

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Blood. Everywhere I look, I see dark spatters of crimson. My mouth is thick with the coppery taste of blood and I can feel it rolling down my face like thick, viscous tears. The room is filled with smoke and the heavy scent of gunpowder and my head is swimming. The world around me has a shimmering, dreamlike quality to it and I taste the bile in the back of my throat.

  “M – mom?” I call.

  The smoke parts as if she’s stepping out from behind a curtain. Her white nightgown is stained crimson and she’s holding a gun in her hand, smoke still wafting from the barrel. Her face is a nightmare visage of deep scarlet streaks and blood matting her hair to her head. But when she smiles, it makes her even ghastlier. There’s a crazed, maniacal light in her eyes that makes her look absolutely insane.

  “Harlow,” she gasps. “My sweet baby girl.”

  Time feels like it’s slowing around me as she raises the gun. My eyes grow impossibly wide as I stare deep into the dark barrel. There’s a flash and a sound like a cannon going off. A split second later, I feel something slam into me. It feels like I’ve been set on fire and the pain is excruciating. I cry out, trying to call her name, but the taste of blood in my mouth is thick and all that comes out is a wet, bubbling sound.

  I’m gripped by a feeling of weightlessness as I fall backward, reaching out to her. I watch as, with that ghastly smile of insanity etched upon her face, she raises the gun to her own head.

  “Goodbye my sweet baby girl!”

  My heart feels like it explodes as I see the blinding flash of light. The scream that’s torn from my throat is loud and it’s primal…

  … and I sit up in bed covered in sweat, unable to catch my breath. I look around, my eyes roaming wildly. Reaching over to the nightstand, I pick up the pocketknife I keep there and jab it against my forearm, the point of the blade biting into my flesh. The sudden flash of pain grounds me. Brings me back to the present.

  “I am safe,” I murmur the familiar words. “I am safe and I am home.”

  I’m not home, of course. I’m at my Aunt Daisy’s house. But my therapist said she wants me to start thinking of this as home and affirming it with that mantra when I have one of my night terrors.

  The night terrors aren’t dreams – they’re memories. Of course, my imagination takes some creative license with them. It didn’t happen the way I dream it did – but it did happen. I absently reach down and touch the small, puckered scar on my side, as if to remind myself that it happened and I’m not just losing my mind.

  I look over at the clock and see that it’s closing in on four in the morning and try to settle back down. After half an hour of trying to get back to sleep though, I realize it’s not going to happen. Sleep isn’t going to come any easier than memories of something that made me happy. I throw back the covers and slip out of bed then pad over to my desk, dropping heavily into the chair, and fire up my laptop.

  If I can’t sleep, I might as well be productive.

  * * * * *

  I stumble into the kitchen feeling half-crazed and utterly exhausted and pour myself a cup of coffee. I forgo the usual creamer and sugar dressing, opting to mainline the caffeine straight.

  “Rough night, huh?”

  I turn, startled to find my Aunt Daisy sitting at the round kitchen table. She gives me a small smile and raises her coffee mug to me.

  “Sorry,” I murmur. “I didn’t see you sitting there.”

  “No, you looked pretty focused on getting that coffee into your system.”

  I give her a smile as I sit down across from her at the table. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the ungodly glare of the sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling window that makes up the rear wall of the kitchen. I stare at the thick, dense forest that sits behind the house and take a long swallow of my coffee, my mind racing.

  “Dr. Blaisdell thinks he can find a medication that will help with your night terrors, Harlow,” she offers.

  I shake my head. “I don’t like the fuzzy feeling drugs give me.”

  She purses her lips. “But wouldn’t it be nice to not wake up screaming in the middle of the night.”

  “Not if I feel like I’m hungover all day,” I reply.

  Aunt Daisy’s concern is written all over her face so I give her a smile I hope doesn’t look as fake as it feels.

  “They’ll fade away. Dr. Blaisdell said as much,” I remind her. “It’ll just take some time.”

  It’s been eight months since that night and part of me thinks they should have faded away – at least a little bit. Kids are supposed to be resilient, right? But the truth is, the memories of my mom shooting my stepfather and me before blowing her own brains out are every bit as sharp today as they were the night it happened.

  I guess things like that maybe take a little longer to get over.

  Daisy nods. “Okay. I’ll let you keep working through it the way you see fit,” she says gently. “For now.”

  “It’ll all be okay. I promise.”

  We both know it’s a promise I’m not necessarily going to be able to keep. But for both of our sakes, she lets me keep pretending I can.

  As she looks at me, I can see the sadness in her eyes. She tries to hide it but it’s there all the same and I’m ashamed to realize for the first time that I’m not the only one who lost something that night. I lost my mother, but she lost her sister. Daisy’s been so busy trying to be strong and care for me that I never stopped to think about the toll it’s all taking on her.

  “How are you doing with it all, Daisy?” I ask.

  Her smile is weak and her eyes shimmer with tears. “Same as you, I guess,” she replies. “Working through it all.”

  A silence crackling with emotion fills the air between us and she’s doing her best to fight off her tears. She scrubs at her face as she lets out a long, shuddering breath.

  “Anyway,” she clears her throat. “You sure you’re up for this?”

  I run a hand through my hair. “As up for it as I’m gonna be, I guess.”

  “You don’t have –”

  “No, I think I need to do this,” I cut her off. “I think I need to start being a normal eighteen-year old again. Or at least, as normal as I can be.”

  She stares at me for a long moment before taking my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and encouraging smile.

  “Well, you should probably get your butt
moving so you’re not late,” she says and grips my hand tighter. “Good luck today, Harlow.”

  I give her a smile then get to my feet and head out of the kitchen to get ready.

  Chapter Two

  “You look like you need a friend.”

  I’m sitting alone beneath a massive pine tree that sits to the side of the quad having my lunch when her voice cuts through my thoughts. I look up to find a girl who’s thin, about five three, has pale, milky colored skin, thick braids of red hair, and eyes that are startlingly blue behind her dark-rimmed glasses. The smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose give her that wholesome girl-next-door appeal.

  “Is that so?” I ask.

  She nods and drops down onto the grass beside me. “You’ve got this sad, lonely look on your face,” she explains. “Plus, you’re new here so I figure you don’t have many friends.”

  “How do you know I’m new here?”

  She rolls her eyes as she opens her lunch bag and pulls out her food. I take a bite of my sandwich and pop a Pringle into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully as I watch her. She’s a cute girl, if a little odd.

  “Sapphire Bay isn’t a very big place,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “New people tend to stand out. I’m Jenna Winslow.”

  “Fair point,” I respond. “Harlow McKay.”

  She looks at me curiously for a second, almost like she recognizes me, and I say a silent word of prayer that she doesn’t. The last thing I want is my new life to be tainted by my past life. A moment later, that expression of familiarity thankfully passes and she smiles.

  “So where ya from, Harlow McKay?” she chirps.

  I shrug. “Around.”

  She rolls her eyes again. “Look, if we’re gonna be friends, you need to drop the whole mystery girl act.”

  I flash her a grin. “Who says I want to be your friend?”

  “Why wouldn’t you? I’m amazing.”

  I laugh and have to admit, there is something likeable about the girl. Her smile is wide, warm, and she seems friendly enough. Still grinning, she takes a bit of a large, red apple, crunching on it happily.

  “Besides,” she goes on. “You need an able guide to help you navigate this fucking nest of vipers.”

  “I take it you’ve appointed yourself my able guide?”

  She nods. “Nobody better. I’ve lived here all my life and know how this place works.”

  She points to the various groups gathered around the quad, explaining the different social stratifications. This campus is segregated like the campus at my old school – the jocks, stoners, nerds, cheerleaders, band geeks, drama kids – the only difference I can see is that I’m not sitting with the white trash and stoners this time. Thanks to Daisy, I’ve got nice clothes instead of the dirty, ragged ones that used to mark me out as one of the undesirables.

  “Thanks for the tutorial,” I say.

  “I thought you needed to get the lay of the land around here,” she beams. “It’s essential for your survival.”

  I drain the last of my soda and toss the can into my bag. “And which group do you claim allegiance to?”

  “I’m one of those rare, mythical creatures who can flit among them all seamlessly,” she grins. “Stick with me kid, and you won’t be a social outcast for long.”

  “And how are you going to make sure he’s not a social outcast when you’re a social outcast yourself?”

  I turn to see three of the most beautiful boys I’ve ever seen standing there. They’re all tall and broad shouldered, have tawny, sun-kissed skin, and hard, chiseled bodies – they’re obviously football players. Two of them look almost identical with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes – the stereotypical California surfer boys.

  It’s the third one though, who makes my breath catch in my throat. He’s got dark hair, olive colored skin, and eyes that sparkle like polished jade. My eyes linger on his taut, toned body and I feel my mouth grow dry as my heart flutters in my chest.

  “Harlow, this Blaze Moore, Evan Turner, and Alec Hodges,” Jenna says, a hard edge in her voice as she glares at him. “If you ever have the urge to catch some exotic and incurable STD, just give them a call.”

  Blaze sneers at Jenna with undisguised hatred. Evan and Alec take their cue from Blaze – clearly the leader of this troupe of Magic Mike wannabes – and cast matching sneers at my new friend.

  “Jenna’s just jealous that nobody’s been desperate enough to pop her cherry yet,” Blaze remarks then turns to me with a feral smile on his face. “What’s your name, new girl?”

  I roll my eyes and blow out a long breath. I’ve dealt with stuck up, rich assholes before. I’m used to people with money looking down their noses at me because I grew up poor and could never dress in the latest fashion or didn’t drive a nice car. But Blaze’s attitude of sheer entitlement, like he expects me to roll over and thank my lucky stars that he chose to acknowledge my existence is something else entirely. I don’t like it. Not one bit. And I can tell I’m not going to like him.

  “It’s not new girl, I can tell you that much,” I roll my eyes at him.

  He smirks. “Funny. What’s your name?”

  I narrow my eyes and glare at him. “None of your business.”

  “Bitch, do you know who I am?” Blaze hisses.

  I shrug. “An entitled asshole who thinks he’s better than everybody else because mommy and daddy tells him so?”

  A look of dark rage crosses Blaze’s face as he stares at me in silence for a moment. Behind him, I see Evan stifling a laugh, careful to not let Blaze see him as he composes himself. Jenna’s not able to control her eruption of laughter, earning her a look of outright hatred from Blaze. Jenna looks away but can’t keep the smile off her face.

  Blaze composes himself, trying to let the anger fade from his face. But he can’t quite dispel it all and when he smiles at me, it looks positively malevolent.

  “You’re new here so I’ll let that slide,” he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

  “That’s so sweet of you,” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my own voice.

  He smiles wider as his gaze lingers on me for a long moment. “Well, whatever your name is, welcome to Sapphire Bay High,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

  He nods to his boys and they start to walk away. Evan looks over his shoulder at me and my heart stutters as I feel some sort of connection or spark between us.

  “He’s pretty, but he’ll cause you nothing but trouble,” Jenna cuts through my thoughts and my face flushes with heat.

  “What are you talking about?” I clear my throat. “I’m not into guys like that.”

  “What, gorgeous?” she replies.

  “No, just –”

  “Evan is better than Blaze, I’ll give you that,” she interrupts me. “But you need to remember that he’s one of them.”

  “One of them?”

  “The Clones – Blaze, Evan, and Alec,” Jenna replies. “They rule this school and will bend over backwards to protect each other. At the end of the day, he will screw you over if Blaze tells him to.”

  “I’m not into him,” I say with a nervous giggle.

  She eyes me for a long moment and I can see the skepticism in her eyes. But more than that, I see a look of concern. Something about those three have her rattled in a way that goes beyond simple school rivalries.

  “What is it?” I ask. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know the details but I’ve heard they’re into some really shady shit, Harlow. Shady, dangerous shit,” she presses. “You really don’t want to get involved with them.”

  I nod but can’t keep the images of Evan from floating through my mind anyway.

  Chapter Three

  “I have to go drop something off so I’ll see you in class,” she says.

  I give her a smile. “Yup. See you then!”

&n
bsp; Standing at my locker, I watch Jenna bounce off, greeting others as she makes her way down the hall. She was right, she really can seamlessly flit between different social groups. Given that she’s my only friend in this school, I don’t have that luxury. But I’m a few weeks into this new school now, and she’s made the transition a lot easier. At least I don’t have people treating me like shit because I’m poor.

  I mean, Daisy isn’t super rich, but she’s a lot better off than my mom was. My clothes are new, clean, and not bought at a thrift store or plucked out of a dumpster. And I think, that’s made a real difference in how people are treating me. They’re not sneering at me or calling me trash like they did at my last school. They’re not exactly embracing me with open arms or anything but at least they’re not constantly making me feel like shit about myself. I consider that a win.

  “Hey.”

  My heart does a somersault when Evan leans against my locker and flashes me a big smile. I silently curse myself. I’m not the kind of girl who acts like this around guys. I’m not a hearts and flowers kind of girl. But there’s something about Evan that makes me act like it.

  “Hey yourself,” I reply as I slip a couple of books into my bag.

  “How are you settling in?”

  I shrug. “Everything’s fine, I guess.”

  He nods, his eyes locked onto mine. The intensity of his gaze burns through me and I feel my cheeks flush. I feel the eyes all around us on me and feel like a bug under a microscope. It’s as if Evan talking to me has suddenly made me interesting to people who couldn’t have cared less about my existence five minutes ago.

  “Anybody giving you trouble?”

  I arch my eyebrow at him. “Other than your buddy Blaze?”

  He grins. “Yeah, he can be an asshole sometimes,” he confides. “But he’s a good guy deep down.”

  “Must be really, really deep down,” I reply. “Anyway, I should get to class.”