Jagged Harts, page 1
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
Thank you
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Written by Katelyn Taylor
Cover art by Sammi Bee Designs
Published by Katelyn Taylor
Jagged Harts is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents and places are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental.
Jagged Harts Copyright © 2022 Katelyn Taylor
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means
Warning: This book contains several potential triggers including, physical and sexual abuse, coarse language and violence. Please proceed with caution. This story is raw, gritty and at certain points deliciously dirty. If you are still reading this then I guess that means you are in, enjoy!
CHAPTER
ONE
AUBREY
Cold hands wrap tightly around my throat. My eyes spring open as I desperately look for my attacker, but all I see is darkness. The fingers dig deeper as my breaths become shorter. Help. I need help. I open my mouth to scream but no sound comes out.
Panic floods me as I grasp the hands holding my throat. The feel of his skin under my fingers sends my stomach retching. One of his hands lets up and my heart soars in relief. He is going to let me go.
But oh, how wrong I am.
The now free hand trails down my body, leaving a vile wake in its path. Like a million of bugs crawling across my skin, the feeling skitters across me as my heart leaps into my throat. No. No. Help. I need help. But no one is coming. No one ever comes. The only person who can save me is me and I can’t. Not against him. I am too small, too weak, too broken.
Blinking my eyes rapidly, my head swivels to take in my surroundings. It takes a moment before I let out a ragged sigh of relief when I see that I just dozed off in my car. Glancing at the clock on my dash it looks like I was only asleep for a few minutes. That is all it usually takes for the talons of my nightmares to sink into me, never granting me more than a minute or two of dreamless sleep before they creep in.
I coasted my car into this parking lot about 10 minutes ago. After an over two thousand mile drive it was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I was running on fumes for the last 15 miles and couldn’t believe that I had actually made it. I should have known that Betty wouldn’t let me down, though. Me and this old girl have been through a lot together. Rubbing my hand appreciatively on the dash, I blow out a deep breath before stepping out of the car.
Flicking my eyes around, my gaze settles on the looming building in front of me. My eyes trail over the sprawling campus with scattered buildings that look more like skyscrapers than school halls. Damn. Whitman University, I made it. Fucking finally. It took over two days of driving and an obscene amount of coffee, but I am finally here.
I reach into the backseat and sling the lone duffel bag over my shoulder. Perk of having practically nothing to your name, you are able to travel light. Though, even I can admit that it is pretty damn pathetic that I can fit my entire life into a single yellow bag that most people would use for a weekend trip. Soon that will all change. I mean, that is why I am here in the first place. Change, a fresh start, a new life.
I know that I am ridiculously lucky to have been selected for the full ride scholarship that I was given. There is no way college would have been on the books for me otherwise, but I knew I had to figure it out somehow if I wanted to make something of myself. These days being hardworking just isn’t enough. No matter where you turn, every job wants you to have a fancy piece of paper that costs six figures to get.
I busted my ass for years to be eligible for a scholarship like this and it is finally starting to pay off. I am going to get an expensive ass degree, get a good job and fucking thrive. I have a future waiting for me that doesn’t include rotting away in Sunny Crest Trailer Park back in LA. It’s a fate unfortunately most suffer, but not me. My new life begins tonight, in Glenfield, Alabama.
With classes starting tomorrow I know that I have to haul ass to get settled in. Stepping quickly through the main entrance I see a crotchety old lady at the receptionist desk. I am not sure if her snooty bitch attitude is because of my showing up at 8:30PM or my slapped together appearance. What does she fucking want from me? She would look like a hot damn mess if she just drove across the country too.
After I show her my ID and paperwork, she wrinkles her nose up at me as she hands me a map of the campus and what must be my dorm room key. Her eyes continue to trace over me with a disapproving gaze. Baring my teeth at her in what I hope is one of my more intimating smiles, I give her a mock salute before turning on my heel in search of my dorm. Fucking bitch.
Some girls might be worried about walking around a college campus in the dark. You never know who could be lurking about, but I welcome the monsters of the night. I challenge them to come for me. Just fucking see what will happen if they do.
Most people look at me and see a petite girl at a whopping 5’4 with platinum blonde hair and bright blue eyes that are closer to turquoise most days. To the majority, I look small, weak. Their first mistake is underestimating me. More people than I can count have made that mistake and paid the damn price for it.
I only get lost once before I make it to my dorm room, which I count as a win because this place is fucking crazy big. When I open the door, I practically fall to my knees as I give a silent thank you to the big man upstairs while I take in the single room in front of me. Sure, it is probably smaller than most of the others dorm rooms that have two students in it, but this place is still twice the size of the room that I called home for the last 18 years of my life. Cleaner too.
Dumping my duffel onto the plain white desk in the corner of the room, I plop down onto the twin mattress on the other side. The place is basic and everything apart from the sporadically stained carpet is crisp white. It almost has a sterile feel to it which is honestly kinda perfect. It doesn’t reek of cigarettes or cheap whiskey, and I know for a fact that no one is coming through that door without my say so. That is more than I have ever had so this place is practically paradise.
My stomach audibly groans, causing me to remember that the last thing that I had to eat was a pack of 98 cent powdered doughnuts somewhere in Dallas. I pull out my wallet and see that I have a single 20-dollar bill left. That’s it. That is all I have left to my name. I was saving it for an emergency which is why I almost ran out of gas just getting to campus.
First priority after classes tomorrow will be to get a job somewhere. I could shovel horse shit for all I care, as long as it puts money in my pocket, I am good. Keeping in mind that money will be coming to me soon one way or another, I decide to shove my shit into my pockets and head out the door in search of some food. If I had gotten here earlier like I planned to, I could have just hit up the cafeteria since I am on the meal plan, but it is well past eating hours by now, so I am shit out of luck.
I snort. What’s new?
The map that the old hag gave me shows a few restaurants that are within walking distance of the dorms. I’m sure one of them will be decent enough. It doesn’t take me long to make it across the street and down the road a bit where I see a white and black neon sign over a rustic looking bar that says, ‘The White Oak Pub’.
The smell of greasy burgers and fries waft through the air and my stomach grumbles in approval. I should probably find a cheap fast-food place so that I can save as much of my money as possible, but with a painful growl of protest from my stomach I decide against it and walk up to the pub.
When I step in, I notice instantly the pleasant low lighting and soft rock playing through the speakers around the room. There are too many delicious smells to even name as they all flood my senses at once, causing my mouth to literally water. It isn’t a huge place which I dig. It has an almost intimate vibe to it, like you could come and hang out here anytime. These hole in the wall places are always the best.
As I step up to the front counter, a messy head of light brown hair pops out around the corner accompanied with a friendly grin.
“Well, hello darlin’. What can I do for you?” The guy asks with a flirty twinkle in his baby blue eyes.
He can’t be more than a couple years older than me, but he is well over 6 inches taller than me as he towers behind the counter. I try to hold back my amused snort at his words. I don’t know how long it will take to g
Glancing up at the illuminated menu behind him, I settle on the first thing I set my eyes on.
“Can I get a rodeo burger with some fries, to-go?”
“Sure thing,” he grins as he rings in my order. “Anything else?”
I shake my head as I pull out my wallet as $10.79 flashes on the register screen. I have to physically push aside my perpetual frugalness as I begrudgingly hand over the money. The guy takes it and quickly gives me my change and a receipt before he leaves with a wink and dashes to the back.
Pocketing my money, I step to the side and lean against the wall as I take in the room around me. There definitely aren’t places like this out in LA. I think it makes me like this place that much more. There won’t be anything out here in bumfuck Alabama that will remind me of where I grew up, which is a blessing in its own.
Not even five minutes pass before the flirty guy is holding my bag and walking around the counter to hand it to me.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. What’s your name?”
I cock an eyebrow at him before I snatch the bag out of his hand. “What’s it to you?”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Just wanted to know the name of the girl that I have been dreaming of my whole life.”
Now I can’t hold back my derisive snort. “That line usually work for you, buddy?”
The guy grins and shrugs. “You tell me. You are the first one that I have used it on.”
I look him up and down slowly. He is cute in a boyish charm kind of way, I guess. He looks like the wholesome all American golden boy. I’d bet my left tit that he played football in high school, maybe even in college too if he goes. His family is probably right out of a Norman Rockwell painting and everything. His blue eyes are nice, but he is too soft, too pure. Definitely not my type.
“I’d say you need new material, golden boy.”
Before he can respond, I spin on my heels and walk out the door. It is surprising to me how it is significantly warmer outside than in the bar even at this time of night. I am used to warm weather back in California, but this shit is humid and almost unbearable. I can practically feel my body break out into a sweat after only a few steps outside.
Just as I am coming up to the crosswalk to campus, a large hand grips my bicep like a vice. Without hesitation, I spin around quickly and cock my arm back to lay whoever just grabbed me the fuck out. Unfortunately, before I have the chance to, I notice the rough looking middle-aged guy gripping me being tossed away like a rag doll as he lands on his back with a sickening thud.
In an instant, a dark hooded figure is on top of my would-be attacker, beating the absolute shit out of him. I hear the whimpers and pained cries of the man on the ground as the hooded figure practically pulverizes him. I can’t help but watch with sick fascination at the excellent form the hooded figure has. My knuckles itch to get a few hits in myself but it doesn’t look like there will be much left by the time this guy gets done. Pity.
When the piece of shits whimpers quiet and his arms stop flailing, I finally speak up.
“I think you got him.”
The hooded figure stops mid punch and goes rigid before he stands up slowly and turns around to look at me. I suck in a sharp breath as my stomach drops when two sharp green eyes that are so vivid they look damn near radioactive collide with mine. Now that he is standing at his full height, I would guess that he is at least 6’4 and based on his wide frame he has to be well over 240. He would be in the heavy weight class at my gym back home for sure. The guy is a fucking tank.
Moonlight softly casts down on him making me notice the dirty blonde hair that is gelled up underneath his hood. His chest is heaving, and blood is splattered across his knuckles and sweatshirt. For a moment we don’t say anything, neither one of us seemingly being able to look away or willing to snap out of whatever this weird trance is. There is something about his eyes that speaks to me, a pain that seems to match the same kind that I am hiding, like two broken pieces from the same window.
Something shifts inside of me as I continue to stare at him, assessing him. He is clearly gorgeous, anyone can see that, but instead of traditional good looks like the golden boy inside, there is an undercurrent of something dangerous in him, something dark. His darkness seems to draw me in like a moth to a flame which is a huge fucking red flag. Nope. Fuck that shit.
“Are you alright?” His gravelly voice rumbles.
I suppress the shiver that begs to run through my body at the sound. Fuck. If there was ever a voice that could make a woman come from sound alone, it would come from this guy’s mouth. I’m torn between telling him off for coming to rescue me like some helpless damsel or asking him to speak again. Mentally slapping myself, I go with the former, screwing in my signature sneer as my eyes connect with his.
“Of course, I am. I could have taken care of the asshole myself, though. I didn’t need your help. Maybe you should mind your own business next time.”
He scoffs and crosses his thick arms across his chest. How is it possible for a hoodie to wrap around forearms like a second skin like that?
“Most people would just say thank you,” he scowls.
Now it is my turn to scoff.
“I’m not most people.”
Turning on my heel before the douche can spout anymore bullshit, I look down the street before I jog across it and head back to my dorm. I tell myself that I am hustling to get back so that I can eat and get to bed, but I think it has more to do with the fact that I am trying to get as far away from the hooded man as possible.
He elicits something inside of me that I have never felt before, it took me all of two seconds to realize that whatever it was would only lead to trouble. I pride myself on having great instincts, it is what has kept me alive this far. Right now, my instincts are only screaming one thing about that guy. Run.
CHAPTER
TWO
AUBREY
A heavy body weighs down against my chest, effectively immobilizing me. I try to squirm out from under it, but it is no use. I am being crushed. My cries are muffled and fall on deaf ears. No one can hear me. No one will come. I am on my own.
Pushing on the body with all of my might, I am able to free myself by an inch or two before the heaviness falls back against me. A dark chuckle suddenly fills my ears, sending fear ridden goosebumps racing across my skin.
Oh. God. It’s him. Not again. Please, God. Not again.
I jolt forward, gasping for air as my eyes wildly flick around the room. My heart is pounding violently against my ribcage as I take in the crisp white walls, the stained carpet and the white desk in the corner.
I’m not there. I’m safe. I’m safe.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I slowly peel the sweat-soaked sheets from my body before I grab my bathroom stuff and make my way to the showers. I turn the water to the coldest setting and relish the chill it leaves me with. If I can feel then this isn’t a dream. If I can feel then no one can hurt me.
Once I am showered, I throw my hair into a quick braid before I slip into a pair of faded blue jeans and my favorite Zeppelin t-shirt. I finish the high fashion outfit off with a white pair of sneakers that are really closer to brown at this point.
I swipe on some drugstore mascara that I picked up in Arizona before calling it good. I am about the furthest thing from a girly girl. I much prefer bloodying up my knuckles over going on shopping trips. Hell, the only reason I even wear mascara is to keep my annoyingly long eyelashes out of my eyes.
