Bullies Love and Lies
Bullies Love and Lies
Liberty Freer
Copyright © 2020 Liberty Freer
First published in May 2020
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locations are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. (This also includes the cover image and/or cover model(s) appearing on the cover. The context of this book does not in any way depict the personal life said cover model(s). Image is licensed and used purely for fictional purpose only.)
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotation in a book review.
Cover Designer: Dark City Designs.
Copy editing: Courtney Umphress
Proofreading: My brother’s editor.
Warning: triggers.
Life is rarely easy, but there are a lot of resources out there to help. If you find yourself breaking, seek help, and keep in mind that the bad doesn’t last forever.
Contents
Copyright © 2020 Liberty Freer
Warning
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 4.5
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 9.5
Chapter 10
Chapter 10.5
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 16.5
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 19.5
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 22.5
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 25.5
Chapter 26
Chapter 26.5
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 32.5
Chapter 33
Note from the author:
Chapter 1
We aren’t in Kansas anymore. My stomach feels heavy, like I swallowed a pile of rocks; I can’t tell if it’s intuition or anxiety from being away from my small town for the first time.
Uncle Jeff taps his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the classic rock song playing on the radio. He’s wearing his usual biker gear, and I know he’s going to look out of place here. When I think of Colorado, I picture people in ski clothes: puffy jackets, swishy pants, and beanies.
“How much longer, Jeff?” I ask, omitting “uncle.” I only call him Uncle Jeff in my head. He’s my best friend Jessa’s uncle. I wish he were mine.
He turns the volume down on the radio. “Almost there, beautiful. You nervous?”
I nod my head in reply as I move the visor to block the setting sun from my eyes.
“Emma, here, take this.” Digging into the front pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a small baggie filled with white powder and then pours it into my soda can. “It’ll help you relax.” He chuckles. “Don’t want my friends thinking you’re uptight.”
His words wound my ego even though they’re true. I can go one of two ways—a nervous rambling mess, or I shut down completely. I take a sip, not tasting a difference. Whatever he put in my drink must be flavorless.
“Take another swig.” He pushes the can toward me. “I want you to have a good time.”
Tipping the can back, I swallow a mouthful. I try relaxing in the seat, but that feeling in my stomach seems to be getting worse, and my palms won’t stop sweating no matter how much I rub them against the fabric of my jeans.
At first, I felt special that Uncle Jeff picked me to visit his hometown for a few days, but now, I wish Jessa had come too.
“You know you’re my special girl, right?” Uncle Jeff asks.
My lips lift a little. “Yeah. I know.”
“Relax.” A heavy hand settles on my shoulder, fingertips digging into flesh. “You’re so tense.”
This only makes me tense up more. Jessa’s family is touchy-feely, something I’m trying to get used to.
He finally drags his hand away as we pull off the two-lane highway and onto a narrow gravel road surrounded by trees. The beads and feathers hanging from the mirror sway from side to side as Uncle Jeff maneuvers the van around large potholes. I lean forward, trying to get a better view of the only house at the end of the road; it’s an older two-story home tucked into the woods.
The van crawls past the short dirt driveway rolling over thick grass and sticks. There isn’t a designated parking area. A beat-up truck is parked in the grass next to the house, and a sleek black car, is parked under a tree. Jeff pulls in next to it.
He smooths down his graying mustache, a nervous habit. “I need to tell you something. You might not like what I’m going to say, but it’s what’s best. You trust me, right?”
I narrow my eyes. Of course I trust him. He shouldn’t even have to ask. It’s been me and him for months, ever since he took me in. “What’s wrong?” I take another drink.
“We don’t talk about money, but you know it’s tight. I said I’d help you get a car, and I will, but I need your help.”
“Okay,” I say slowly.
“I need you to do something that’ll make us a lot of money. It’s enough to take care of us for a while. No more going without electricity or living off instant noodles and hotdogs.”
I take another drink, hoping it will help calm my nerves. The longest we’ve gone without electricity is only a few days. Jeff always finds a way to pay the bills. I worry my bottom lip between my fingers. I didn’t realize there was a problem. If he’s concerned about money, he might kick me out. I could end up homeless.
“There’s a man offering a lot of money to spend time with you,” Uncle Jeff says, studying my face.
I narrow my eyes in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Remember when I told you about the ceremony?”
I frown. I remember he brought up something about it. A purity ceremony on my eighteenth birthday. “The one for Virgos, right? The Earth ceremony?” I was a little stoned when he mentioned this to me a couple months ago.
“Something like that, baby girl.” He reaches between the bucket seats, pulling out some white fabric from his bag. “This is the dress we talked about.”
“Is this for my birthday? I thought we were doing something next week with Jessa?”
“Pretty girl, take the dress.”
I take the fabric from him, noticing it’s sheer. Why the hell would I wear this? I clear my throat. “This is kinda see-through.”
“It’s what you need to wear.” He points out the window to where a guy dressed in black is standing on the porch of the house. “Clint wants you to wear it.”
All my senses are telling me this is bad. I set the can in the cupholder. “Why does Clint care what I’m wearing?”
“I’m not going to force you to do anything, beautiful, but we’re a team. We need to work together to make it. You understand, right?” he says, and it reminds me of the speech he gave me when I first moved out of my grandmother’s house to live with him.
“What are
you asking me to do? What happens at the ceremony?” I whisper. Sweat collects across my forehead, under my arms, and on my palms.
“Come on. You can get dressed inside.” Uncle Jeff leans in closer, his cigarette-tinged breath making my nose wrinkle. “You feeling good yet, pretty girl?”
I feel sick, scared, and dizzy. “I don’t know.”
He studies me for a moment, and then he touches his lips to mine. I stop breathing. My eyes widen; his are closed. A heavy hand lands on my thigh. His slimy tongue slips between my lips.
Wrong—this is wrong and disgusting.
Panicked, I pull away. “I need to go to the bathroom.” I grab the can of soda and hold it up between us like it will prove I’m not lying. I need to get away from him. He kissed me. He shouldn’t have kissed me. Why did he do that?
Diane’s face flashes across my mind. Images play out in my head of her sitting on Uncle Jeff’s lap in this van while they slobbered over each other’s mouths. Does he think I’m like her, like Diane, the neighbor who was a year or two older than me when she made out with Uncle Jeff?
And why didn’t I think it was wrong of him at the time? I remember thinking it was gross, but I thought she was gross for kissing a man twice her age.
He gives me a half-smile. “Come on. Let’s go meet Clint, then you can pee.”
I don’t want to meet Clint. I want to get the hell away from here. I can’t believe he kissed me. A few more minutes and it’ll be dark, making it harder for anyone to see me when I run. Holy shit, I’m going to run.
Uncle Jeff comes around to my side, the passenger door opening with a loud creak. The rocks in my stomach have been replaced by a boulder as we walk toward the house that’s fifty yards away. I need to go. “My purse,” I say. “I forgot it.”
“You don’t need it right now,” Uncle Jeff says.
I rub my finger. “I took my ring off yesterday because it was turning my finger green. I need my good luck ring. It’s in my purse.” I force myself to smile. “You know I love my ring.” I pretend to stumble, and then I laugh, hoping he thinks whatever he put in my drink is working.
Jeff chuckles. “Hurry up.”
Thankfully, he continues toward the porch, putting even more distance between us, while I hurry back to the van with my heart pounding more than it ever has in my life. My breaths are as shaky as my legs, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I grab my purse because I do need it. I move to the other side of the van so it will block me from view, and then without looking back or a plan in place, I run.
Chapter 2
It only takes a few seconds to make it to the tree line, and I don’t hesitate to barrel in at full speed. Branches whip at my bare arms as I speed through the thick foliage. Once I’m in deep enough, I veer to the right, hopefully heading toward the road we pulled off of. Damp leaves and the familiar smell of wood and moss bring back memories.
My lungs burn, but I keep running. The further into the woods I go, the quieter the sirens get. The nearly full moon helps to illuminate the way, and I don’t stop running until I make it back to the tin can my dad rents. I rub the blood from my hands onto my jeans before grabbing the extra key I keep under the steps. I’m going to have to burn my blood-covered clothes.
Bright light brings me back to the present. Three cars whizz down the long stretch of road. I approach the asphalt, leaving a good six feet between me and the white line. Two sets of headlights, one behind the other, are coming toward me. I wave my arms high in the air, but both cars speed past, not slowing down.
I duck back into the woods, afraid to fail again at flagging someone down because the next car might be Jeff or his friend. I follow the road, staying just inside the tree line.
My heart lodges in my throat as the piercing scream from my phone cuts through the silence. I fumble with my purse, trying to pull out the obnoxiously loud phone to silence it. I stare at the name displayed across the screen: Jeff.
I deny the call and then dial the number to my only friend that has a car. Tony doesn’t answer, so I shoot him a text telling him to call me back, and then shove my phone back into my purse. There are lights in the distance from a gas station, and my stomach grumbles at the thought of food. I haven’t eaten since lunch today, and that was only a small bag of chips and a PB&J.
My phone rings again. This time, I swipe across the screen to accept the call. Maybe he’ll apologize and tell me we’re going home.
“Emma. Where are you?”
I hold my breath and listen. I can hear another man in the background, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.
“Where are you?”
My brain is screaming at me to get answers. Everything is making sense now. There were signs that I ignored. “Did you sell me, Jeff?” I whisper, hoping I’m wrong and freaked out over nothing.
“Just get back here, Emma.”
“I told you, you were being too soft. Should’ve let me handle it,” a guy in the background says.
“She’s scared. She’ll come around,” Jeff says, but his words are muffled, like he’s covering the speaker. “Emma, think about what you’re doing. You need to come back. Where you going?”
“What’s going to happen when I come back?”
“Emma.” Jeff chuckles. “Come on, baby girl. We’re all going to have a good time. I promise.”
“I’m on my way back,” I lie. “Be there in a few minutes.” In a moment of panic, I toss my phone into the woods. Jeff pays for my phone, so he might be able to track it.
Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. “You’re so stupid, Emma,” I mumble to myself.
Spending the night with a stranger might be better than being stranded in the middle of nowhere, completely alone, and with nothing; the thought makes me cringe. I do not want to “spend time” with some fifty-year-old biker friend of Jeff’s.
I head toward the gas station to try and call Tony again. He’ll answer eventually. I don’t know what I’ll do once I get back to Kansas. This is a freaking mess.
The parking lot is small, with only two cars parked out front. My face pales seeing the blue van headed my way. It’s at this moment, when I’m forced to make a quick decision, that I know I can’t go back. I yank the passenger door of a black car open and quickly slip onto the seat.
“Whoa!” the guy in the driver’s seat sputters.
He’s dressed in business attire, with a cup of coffee in one hand and a phone in the other. With slow movements, he sets his coffee in the holder, his brown eyes locked with mine. He looks on edge, like I’m a threat.
We stare at each other for a second, and then I move my gaze back out the passenger window, determining this man is a lot less scary than the one pulling into a parking space five rows over.
“Did you mean to get into my car? Are you with someone?” the man asks.
I tune him out, focusing on the van as time seems to slow. The van door opens an inch, not enough for me to confirm it’s him. A black boot smacks the concrete. The door opens completely, and tears spring to my eyes. I trusted him.
Uncle Jeff meant so much to me. The urge to run to him for protection has my fingers moving to the door handle, but the tables have turned, because he’s the one I need protection from.
He shuts the van door but doesn’t move, his gaze sweeping the parking lot. I slip further into the seat, my knees pressing against the dash and my head below the window. “I need a ride,” I say in a rush to the stranger next to me without looking at him.
“Are you hiding from someone?”
“Please, go,” I whimper, squeezing my eyes shut.
I could cry with happiness as the car begins to move. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as we pull out onto the road, the car quickly getting up to speed. I wipe the wetness from my face and then sit up, leaning against the door to look out the window.
“What’s your name?” the stranger asks me.
“Emma,” I whisper, keeping my eyes out the window to watch the trees fly by.
> “My name’s Arden, Arden Croft. Maybe you’ve heard of me? I own a few businesses here in Colorado.” I shake my head. “Okay, Emma. Where can I take you? Where do you live?”
My dam breaks at his question. Everything comes flooding out, tears and incoherent sentences. When the car slows like he’s going to pull over, I panic. “No! We can’t stop! Far away. I need to get far away from him. You can drop me off close to wherever you’re going, if you don’t mind?”
“What about your parents? Do you have someone you can call?”
“I don’t have anyone,” I say, and it’s close enough to the truth.
“What about family?”
“My grandma’s in a nursing home.”
“Your parents?” he asks, and I shake my head. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be eighteen in a few days.”
“I live a couple hours west,” he says as the car gets back up to speed. “Is that far enough?”
I wipe snot from my nose and then wipe my hand on my jeans. “That should work.”
Arden hands me a tissue that he pulls from the middle console. “Emma, do you need to go to the police? Do you want to report someone?”
My eyes widen. “No. I don’t want to go to the cops. He has too many connections.” I close my eyes, hoping to stop the tears.
“Do you need to go to a hospital? Are you hurt?”
I blow my nose. “No hospitals and no cops.” Another sob leaves me. “I have nowhere to go. I can’t believe I ran.”
“I have an extra room if you need it.”
I wipe another tear away while looking him over. He looks nice: in his late twenties to early thirties, dressed in a suit, well-groomed, even smells clean. He’s the opposite of Jeff. I don’t want to end up in a similar situation. “Do you have kids?”
“I have three: one biological and two adopted. Although, my oldest is in college and rarely ever home. It’s more like I have two, and they’re practically grown.” He chuckles. “Guess that means I’m getting old.”
I wish my parents would have given me up for adoption, I think. “Do your kids live with you?”