First Peek at Fatal Temptations…Fatal Cross Live! Book 2

Ein Dutzend Hände mit gespreizten Fingern als Silhouette eines Konzertpublikums vor einer besonderen Lichtshow, die an Aquarien oder an Pyrotechnik erinnert

Here is your first look at Fatal Temptations, book 2 in the Fatal Cross Live! Series.

This Prologue is RAW and UNEDITED…..

Look for Fatal Temptations to be out this winter…Enjoy!


Prologue

Presley

Remembering

11 years ago…

He’s drunk again.

Hell, he’s always drunk.

My entire life had been nothing but whisky sours and Bud Light from the time he walked in the door in his three thousand dollar suit fresh from his hard day’s work as a corporate CEO until he passed out from the alcohol right after dinner. Daddy dearest thought he was the best thing to grace the air I breathed and reminded me of that as often as he felt the need.

At nineteen, my life should’ve been college classes and late night parties with my best friends, flirting with boys, and chasing the sunrise on Saturday mornings. That would never be a part of my world. No, I was not allowed to do the things that normal children were allowed to do because it would embarrass my perfectly sculptured family unit if I was to step over some invisible line of his social standards. I was only allowed out of the house on school nights for my job. Yes…I said, school nights. I was actually in college with a curfew.

In the last six or seven years, I’d learned that when I had bruises around my throat, he was disgusted by the sight while he tried to eat his perfectly prepared meal. Even though he’s the one to put those marks on me when he felt the need to let off some steam or the booze changed him into a monster. Just like the ones I received the night I came home to find him sitting in the recliner, drunk, and I hadn’t made it home by nine after my shift at the pizza shop I worked at in the evenings. The end result was always the same.

A door slamming downstairs had fear racing up my spine and I shivered from the unknown of what that sound meant. Was it a simple mistake from the wind catching the door? Or was he angry for my mom not having his dinner on the table when he required it? Was he leaving the house for some dinner meeting I wasn’t aware of?

I couldn’t get that lucky.

The only saving grace I had was that he surely wouldn’t want me at the dinner table tonight. No, not with the way I looked. I’d just wrapped a soft scarf around my neck, the same one I always used, and stayed in my room for most of the day, only coming out to grab a sandwich.

My mother was no better. She made excuses and always took his side in any argument. The lies were getting easier to spot now that I was older. If I heard how he’d “just had a horrible day at work” or “you know your father…he didn’t mean it” one more time, I seriously thought I’d kill my fucking self. Just give me the gun, I’d pull the trigger, because I’m not sure how much more of this I could take.

A soft knock on the door announced my mother arriving with a plate of food. The sound of the fine china plinking against the silverware always made my skin crawl. The lap of luxury wasn’t all it’s made out to be on television. Trust me…I was living in my own personal hell, candy coated with money.

“Here’s your dinner,” she snapped, setting the plate on the small desk beside the door. The upturn to her nose was a dead giveaway that she’s still taking his side, not caring that her beloved husband almost killed the child she’d given birth to.

In fact, with the silent treatment and pity party for one she’d been throwing for herself all day, I’m sure somehow this entire thing was my fault. Oh, and the shopping trip this afternoon was probably retail therapy for her distraught nerves for having a wild teenager living under her roof.

“I’m not hungry,” I whispered, pulling the headphones back over my ears to drown out her voice. I looked up out of the corner of my eye when she slammed the door as quickly as she opened it. I just wanted to make sure I was alone in my room, relaxing when he wasn’t standing there behind her.

I didn’t want anything from them…I just wanted a way out. Things were falling into place for me, but I had to just hold on a little while longer. I’m not as stupid as they think. I’d been saving up for a while now, having my own account for the past three years. I’d been putting away money so I could get out on my own, and somehow, they hadn’t known about my little bank account.

I had a safe place to go, if I needed it. A friend from high school had gone on to play for a fairly known band and was currently traveling the country, but he gave me a set of keys to his place if I needed to get away from home. I’d packed away all of the things I needed into a duffle bag and had hidden them behind the shed at the back of our property where I knew my father would never venture out. The little shed held lawn equipment and was only used by the hired help during the spring and summer when they would mow the lawn. Since it set so close to the fence line, I tucked my bag as far back as I could and prayed it was never seen.

“Do you not have any fucking respect for your mother?” my father blared, pushing the door open to my room so hard the door handle imbedded itself into the wall behind it. “Huh? Do you? You ungrateful bitch!”

The plate with my meal was picked up and thrown at my face, but I dodged to the side to miss it. I guess that was the wrong thing to do. The fact that it didn’t hit me actually made things worse…so much worse.

As my eyes blink to clear the past few hours, I gritted my teeth to fight the tears that had fallen down my scraped up cheek. My left eye was now totally swollen shut, but I still had full use of the other one. As I took stock of my body, I breathed a sigh of relief when I come up with only the busted eye. He’d gotten really good at punching me hard enough to knock me out, and I’m thankful that this time he didn’t keep up the beating. I guessed his food was getting cold.

It didn’t take long before I made the decision that would forever change my life. I found the second hidden bag I kept between my mattresses. This duffle was empty, but it only took me a few minutes to pack the clothes I needed.

I didn’t even look back when I climbed out of my window and ran away from home, swearing I’d never let that man have any more control over my life.

The darkness surrounded me as I walked the seven miles to the apartment I would be using as my own. By the time I arrived, my head was pounding and my vision had started to blur. I’d already been yawning for the past hour as I’d walked down back roads and alleyways to get to where I needed to go. So, it wasn’t a surprise when I did nothing more than face plant on the couch of my best friend and sleep for the next two days, praying I wouldn’t ever go back to the hands of the monster I called my father.

Copyright 2015 Theresa Hissong

About Author Theresa Hissong

International Best Selling Author of Contemporary & Paranormal Romance.
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