In the Heart of Forever (2 page)

Mrs. Johnson, the school librarian, waved as I pushed through the doors. I waved back and headed to the classics section of the library. "And how's my favorite student today?" she called out.

There was no one in the room, so there was no need to be too quiet. The library was never really full of students. Only people like me who actually enjoyed reading, spent time there. "I’m alright. How are you Mrs. Johnson?" I replied as my fingers grazed my favorite books.

"I am well, thank you for asking dear."

My eyes flicked to hers and I smiled. She was my favorite person at this school. Always greeting me with a warm smile, I felt more at home there than I did at...well...home.

Her graying hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her thick bottle cap glasses framed her aging face. "Did you hear about the new boy?"

I frowned. "New boy?"

"Rave...?"

Wow. News travels fast.

"Black. Yeah, he's in my History class," I finished for her.

"I've heard..." she paused.

I turned to her.

She cleared her throat and wiped her glasses on her dress. "Well...anyways. Just be careful," she smiled brightly.

I nodded. "I will." Confusion coursed through me. What was that was about?

Mrs. Johnson headed back to her desk and I continued browsing. Settling on a favorite, I grabbed it from the shelf and sat on the floor, crossing my legs under me.

"Oh yes, we definitely have a lot of books here for such a small school," the cheery sound of Mrs. Johnson's voice carried over my way a moment later. A softer, deeper voice replied in return.

I raised my head and tried seeing around the books towards her desk, but all I caught was the back of a T-shirt. I shrugged to myself and dove back into my book.

"Sure thing. The classics are this way," Mrs. Johnson answered.

My eyes travelled along the page, letting the words of the author float around me.

"Oh hi Jesse. I forgot you were still here."

My head popped up at Mrs. Johnson's voice. “Uh,” my eyes flicked back between her and...Rave. His arms were crossed under his chest, the air thick with confidence surrounding him. A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes.

My cheeks heated at being caught sitting on the floor.

“Jesse this is Rave Black. Rave,” she pointed to me. “Jesse Dawson.”

He didn’t smile or offer any kind of greeting. His deep green eyes just bored into mine, setting my nerves on edge.

I cleared my throat and stood, placing the book back on the shelf. “Hi."

Rave looked down at my outstretched hand and then back up to my face but he didn’t shake it. “Thank you, Mrs. Johnson, I think I can find what I’m looking for from here,” he told her without taking his eyes off of me.

“Ok, sure thing.” She looked at me. “Need anything else, just holler,” she hesitated and then walked left us alone, mingling in the stacks of books.

I frowned.

He walked by me, ignoring my outstretched arm,

Ok, rude.

I huffed and bent over to grab my bag when a pair of running shoes came into my field of vision. I rose to my full height, flinging my bag over my shoulder and saw Rave standing right beside me.

His arms were crossed under his chest and his green eyes darkened as they took me in.

My throat went dry, heart thumping hard against my chest. I licked my lips. Not able to take my eyes off of his, I continued to stare. His eyes were captivating. Like he could see into my thoughts. Something was different about him. The hard wisdom in his eyes betrayed the youthful look on his face.

He leaned down, hot breath grazing my ear.

I turned to him, his lips mere inches from mine. Is he going to kiss me? Did I want him to? I just met the guy but I was already drawn to him. I could see the specks of brown in his deep green irises. They flashed wickedly and flicked down to my lips.

I was entranced by his stare and I couldn’t move, even if I wanted to. Oh this boy was dangerous. The kind of boy my mom used to warn me about.

A moment later, he held something in front of me. “Jesse.”

Was he talking to me? His deep voice caressed my skin like silk. He had to be older to have a voice like that. The way my name rolled off his tongue caused my stomach to flip.

“Hmm?”

“I said, you dropped this.”

I snapped out of it and looked down. He was holding my cell phone. My eyes slowly met his.

He smirked, obviously quite proud of himself.

I snatched it from his hand and high-tailed it out of the library, my ego completely obliterated.

Chapter 2

Rave Black was dangerous. At least according to all of the rumors. The first week, rumors flew around school that even had the teachers talking. He had a history. You could see it in his dark green eyes. He was so young, yet his eyes showed pain and heart ache. Like he had been through hell and back. Juvenile delinquent was a popular rumor, but the most surprising one was murderer. Murder? Really?

I didn’t know his story but I wasn’t going to believe what others said. Every single class I went to, people talked about him. I could tell he hated every minute of it.

Only having one class with him, my heart skipped a beat every time he walked by me. Little glances would pass between us. A soft smile would splay on his lips, making my stomach flip.

The girls would whisper and Melanie would tease me constantly about my blush. Luckily Rave sat at the back of the class so hopefully he didn’t hear her. Or see the way he had affected me.

After our meeting in the library I instantly developed a crush. The way that he had looked at me made my heart flutter. All of these new feelings soared through me and they left me needing something…but I wasn’t sure what. Before meeting him, I never noticed how empty I felt. How I went through every day like a zombie, an empty shell. Completely inexperienced with boys, I didn’t know how to deal with the way that I reacted to Rave. Jake was my best friend and he was the only that I had been comfortable with.

I would see those glittering emerald eyes in the halls but we didn't speak. I always looked for him while I pretended to read my books. I had even asked Mrs. Johnson if she heard from him but she had said that he only came by early in the morning. Her judgement of him changed each time she talked about. She would refer to him as a nice polite boy and how she wished everyone was like him.

A week after meeting Rave, I trudged up the steps of my step father’s house after school. I didn’t call it my home. It wasn’t. My mother and I had moved in with him when she married the guy three years before.

I had begged and pleaded for her not to marry that monster but since my daddy left before I was born, she was desperate for someone to take care of us. She had promised Allan Clow would make our lives easier. Comfortable. If she would have known what would happen two years later, I liked to think she would’ve run from him.

He was a lawyer, worked like crazy but for some reason he was home today.

When I took a step on the stairs to go up to my room, a heavy hand grabbed my pony tail, forcing my head back. “Where were you, little girl?” his grimy voice rang out, making my skin crawl.

Tears pricked my eyes at the rough force. “I was at school,” I was about an hour late getting home because I went back to the library in hopes that I would see Rave again.

“It’s 6 o’clock. You’re late making my supper,” Allan growled in my ear.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I said, choking on a sob at the rough hold he had on my hair.

“It fucking better not. Now, get your ass in the kitchen and make me something.” He let go of my hair and pushed me.

I fell against the stairs, my books and bag tumbling to the ground.

Allan walked away, grumbling something about stupid, lazy assed women.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. Six months, Jesse. Six months too long if you asked me. I could leave now, drop out of school and never look back but my mom needed me. Even though I didn’t deserve her love, I couldn’t turn my back on her. Images from that day at the top of the stairs flew into my head. Allan and her screaming. Horrible awful words being vomited back and forth. My mother falling. Oh God, if it wouldn’t have been for me stepping in between them, getting in the way, she would have been fine. No accident would have happened. I angrily wiped the tears off of my face, gathered my things and headed up the stairs. I threw my bag on my bed and stomped down to the kitchen.

“Stop being so loud, girl,” Allan yelled from the lounger. “And grab me a beer.”

I bit my cheek, swallowed back a curse and headed to the fridge. If it wasn’t for me grocery shopping every week, all we would have is beer. I grabbed a cool bottle from the shelf and walked back into the living room, placing it on the table beside Allan.

As I turned around, something flew past my head and smashed into the wall beside me. I jumped as glass and liquid flew everywhere.

“What am I going to fucking do with a bottle that isn’t open? Bring me a beer and open it this time, brat,” Allan spit out.

Anger curled in my belly and I headed back into the kitchen. I grabbed another bottle from the fridge and made sure to open it. God, he is such an asshole. I didn’t understand how anyone could be that mean. I hated him. With every fiber of my being, I hated Allan Clow.

“Make sure you clean up that mess you just made too,” Allan said without looking at me, grabbing the beer from my hand. He scratched his huge belly and went back to watching TV.

My heart pounded as I headed to the closet. I grabbed a hold of the broom and held it. If I swung this hard enough, it would knock…No. I couldn’t think that way. I shook my head, ridding myself of those thoughts. I have to look out for my mom. Who knew what would happen to her or me if I did something stupid like that.

I walked over to the broken glass on the floor and knelt, sweeping up the shards into the dustpan. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I knew other kids had it worse than me but what did I ever do to deserve this?

Did my mother not notice how much of an asshole Allan was before she married him? I had no idea what went through her head at the time and a part of me was furious with her, which in turn made me feel guilty. The tears that I tried so hard to control rolled down my cheeks as I continued sweeping up the broken pieces of glass, my hands shaking with rage.

“You missed a spot,” Allan chuckled and pushed me as he walked by.

I gasped as my hand landed on the broken shards. A sharp burn shot up my arm as a jagged piece of glass dug into my palm. I pulled it out of my hand and winced.

I huffed and headed into the kitchen to grab a towel. I cleaned up the blood and bit back a curse as a light chuckle sounded from the living room.

“Where’s my food girl?” Allan asked as he walked back to his lounger.

“Give me a second,” I snapped.

“Well, what’s taking so long?”

Well, if someone wouldn’t have thrown their beer against the wall, supper would have been started already.

“I’m hungry,” Allan stated. He was always hungry.

“And you’re an asshole,” I mumbled to myself.

“What did you just call me?”

I jumped and spun to see Allan standing a few feet away from me. His head was balding and his stomach protruded from his waist but I was no match for his 6 foot something frame. My heart sped up and my hands shook. “Nothing. I didn’t call you anything.”

His eyes widened and he slapped me. The sound of skin meeting skin reverberated through the air and I couldn’t get the noise out of my head, black spots dancing in my vision.

Allan grabbed my chin and dug his fingers into my cheeks, throwing me up against the wall. My head slammed against the solid surface, tears blurring his twisted face. I grabbed onto his wrists, digging at them, trying to get him to release me.

“Now make my supper, brat,” he growled, spittle flying from his mouth.

Under normal circumstances, I never in my whole life would think of doing this to anyone but the anger that brewed in my belly, seemed to have taken control of my body. I glared at him. Glared with as much malice as I could muster.

His slimy face broke out in a grin. “You got some fire in ya, girl. Too bad you weren’t old…”

At that point, I took my chance. Taking a deep breath, I spat in his face.

His grin warped into a snarl, full of hate. He wiped his face and pulled back his fist to hit me but stopped.

I flinched.

“You’re lucky, girl. So very fucking lucky. If it wasn’t for your mother, little girl, you’d be out on the street so fast, your head would spin.”

I glared at him and crossed my arms under my chest. My cheek stung from where he had hit me a moment before.

Allan chuckled and headed back into the living room, whistling. Bastard.

Chapter 3

The next morning, I woke up, staring at my ceiling. Allan ended up ordering pizza, saying he didn’t want blood in his food from my cut hand. Like I would contaminate him or something. I rolled my eyes and huffed, wincing from the pain coursing through my head. A monstrous ache pounded inside my skull.

I pushed myself off of my bed and walked out into the hallway. The sun hadn’t risen yet, so I trudged to the bathroom and felt around on the wall for the light switch. I stood in front of the mirror and gasped.

My hair was wild, like I stuck my finger in a light socket and my eyes were wide. Scared even. With shaky hands, I touched the red mark on my pale face. It looked like a sunburn or blush. Luckily it didn’t look like a hand print. Or I had hoped it didn’t.

I grabbed a washcloth, ran it under warm water and went about cleaning my face. My reflection blurred as I scrubbed my skin. Scratching until my skin turned red and ached from the roughness of the cloth. I wanted to wipe away my face. Erase the pain that had been caused for the past couple of years. If I could just scrub harder, I could clean away the guilt. The guilt of not having my mom. The guilt of putting her in the hospital. Mom, I need you.

I needed her more than anything at this moment. Since not having my mom as a punching bag, Allan had to resort to beating me instead. He didn’t do it often but when he did, I had bruises for days. They would always be in spots that were hidden. He would never hit me hard enough in the face, just slap me around a bit. But the mental abuse was worse…almost.