Hurt Like HELL (new adult contemporary romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

groaning, holding his face, spitting blood on the concrete floor in small crimson pools. 
    “You piece of shit,” he growled.  “You piece of…”
    “Don’t hit her,” Jack said, trying to find a deep, manly voice.  “Don’t ever hit her.  Ever!  Don’t ever… hit…”
    My father stood up and let out a raging scream.  It was ear shattering, earth shattering, and nothing that resembled the cry of a human.  I moved towards Jack as my father spun around.  I knew by the positioning of his shoulders he was going to do something to Jack.  I loved Jack for being strong and wanting to defend me, but a punch from my father would hurt him.
    My father didn’t intend to punch Jack, not even close.
    As he spun, Jack readied another fist for my father. 
    I caught sight of something reflecting and before I could scream for the entire ordeal – and night – to just end, my father came at Jack with a knife. 
    The knife was there and gone.
    Just like that.
    There and gone.
    With a grunt and a dry gasp for air, Jack touched his stomach.  Blood covered his hands as he started to step back.  His head bounced and his mouth opened.  He looked at me and let out a whimper and continued to step back.
    “No!” I screamed and lunged for him.
    I was an inch from touching Jack when something jerked me back.  My father had a handful of my hair.  He pulled me to his side.  I couldn’t break away from his fierce grip.  So I stood there, and I watched Jack die.
    The boy I loved.
    The boy who cared for me.
    The boy who gave me my first kiss.
    He fell to his knees, touching the end of the knife and his stomach.  He then fell to his side and stared off into nothing.
    When he was finally dead, I heard my father laugh.
    I shook my head, wanting to take it all back, but that wasn’t possible.
    “He tried to hurt you, Tessa,” my father said.
    It would be the first of about a thousand times I’d hear that phrase.
    He tried to hurt you, Tessa…

 
    Our hearts aren’t broken.  Our lives are.

 
     
     
     
    10 YEARS LATER

~1~
     
    One foot, then the other.   It was like learning how to live my life but instead I stepped into the hot water waiting to hear my skin sizzle.  I never understood why I took baths so hot but somewhere subconsciously I believed it was my body’s way of reminding my heart of the pain that could exist.
    Trust me, I’d never forget.
    Even with a new last name, I’d never forget.
    I had been offered numerous times to change my first name but I couldn’t do it.  There was only one other name that made sense to me and that I held tight to my chest, my secret to keep, never to share with the world.  The rest of my life had been an open book, from the newspaper articles to newscasters trying to follow me, my life, and everything in between.  It felt good to have a secret with myself.
    I stood and looked down at my feet in the water.  I never put anything in the water – no bubbles, fragrances or any of that – but sometimes I ran the water so hot it appeared cloudy for a few minutes.  A thick steam rose from the water and had already coated the small bathroom, leaving condensation dripping from the white walls and fogging the mirrors.
    Good.
    That was how I liked it.
    I put my right hand to the wall and felt the slippery cool tile and braced myself to sit down.  The best way to do it was just to sit.  Kind of like getting into a pool for the first time.  Rater than slowly torture yourself going one little step at a time, just jump the hell in.  I again thought about life and all of its reflections that live around us. 
    Lately, life ( and all of its reflections ) were all I could think about.  College had been done for a year and while I technically could have been considered unemployed, I gracefully introduced myself as a not-so-much starving artist and writer, trying to forge my own path into success.  I had taken up writing and attempted painting back in high school.  My awkward