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  Guard My Heart

  Tainted Hearts 0.5

  AJ Summer

  Copyright © 2013 AJ Summer

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please don’t participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted material in violation of the author’s rights. All the characters and storylines are the property of the author, and your support and respect is appreciated.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Edited by: Lindsay Hopper

  Cover Design by Kari Ayasha at Cover to Cover designs

  Cover photograph © Frenk and Danielle Kaufmann

  DEDICATION

  Firstly, I want to dedicate this book to everyone who doesn’t believe in happy endings but believe in hoping it never ends. This book is for you, because even when life chewed us up and spat us out, we still found our here and now. Hold onto it and make it count.

  Secondly, to YOU – Finally!

  Book one does not have a happy ending and I hope that you all will forgive me, because it will happen eventually. Even misfits deserve love…

  Table of Contents

  Copyright © 2013 AJ Summer

  DEDICATION

  BOUND BY BIRTH – SEPERATED BY CONSEQUENCE

  PART ONE

  DAY ONE

  DAY TWO

  DAY THREE

  DAY FOUR

  DAY FIVE

  DAY SIX

  DAY SEVEN

  THE BEGINNING OF THE END

  THE FINAL ACT

  PRESENT DAY

  BOUND BY BIRTH - SEPERATED BY CONSEQUENCE

  PART TWO

  DAY ONE

  DAY TWO

  DAY THREE

  DAY SIX

  DAY SEVEN

  GUARD MY HEART

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  BOUND BY BIRTH – SEPERATED BY CONSEQUENCE

  PART ONE

  KYLE

  I can’t paint for shit. I can’t carry a tune to save my life. But I have a story.

  A story that started out brave. A story that started out humble. A story of total destruction.

  What would you do to save your family?

  My decision was easy, the consequence was death.

  I am Kyle, but most people know me as The Runner.

  How did this start?

  Seven days. In seven days I changed my world and the world of everyone I loved.

  To tell this story I have to start at the beginning. My last week of high school.

  DAY ONE

  Fucking asshole has been drinking again. I can smell him all the way from the front door. I walk through the dimly lit house towards the kitchen. Mom and Mia must be in bed already. It’s not even eight o’clock yet. I hate how much power he has over this house. I would kill him if I could, but I wouldn’t mean much to Mom and Mia if my ass is in jail.

  “Kyle,” he grunts at me.

  “Yeah?” I grunt back.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” he slurs.

  “None of your business.”

  I leave him with that thought and climb the stairs to my little sister’s room. She is lying on her bed with her eyes closed. The earphones stuck in her ears, blocking the sound of my approaching footsteps. I grab hold of her ankle and tug.

  She flies up, kicking and screaming.

  “Damn it, Kyle! You scared the hell out of me.” Her face is red and flustered and hilarious as hell. I can’t stop the chuckle escaping my throat. I shrug it off when I see her solemn face and fall down on the bed next to her.

  “He’s drunk again.” I don’t need to explain. She knows who I’m talking about.

  Her eyes go big, and her bottom lip trembles a little. I should probably have said that in a better way, built her up to it.

  “Where’s Mom?” she asks. There’s a slight hitch in her voice, and I remember Dad’s voice saying, “Take care of your family, Kyle”.

  “In her room? Let’s go check,” I guess. I grab Mia by the hand and lead her through the dark passage to Mom’s room. Her door is slightly open, and it’s dark inside. She’s pretending to be asleep.

  Mia lets out a small breath and whispers softly, “Mom?” Mom stirs in the bed and looks up at us with a small smile on her face. She knows he’s drinking too. This is her defense mechanism—if you keep completely still, the hunter sometimes misses the prey.

  We don’t say anything. We just sit there on the bed, staring at each other. What is there to say? We can speculate and say it will be okay, but we know it won’t. He is our stepdad. Mia and I made a pact when we were kids to never say his name out loud. Mia believed that by saying his name, you made him real. Like the bogeyman. If you say his name he will know where you are. But he is real.

  I look at my sister. Young, naïve, and impressionable. Mia is a romantic at heart. She is filled with hope for the world even if she experiences the dark in it every day. Even though she experiences the truth about love and how it can break you every day, she still believes in everybody having their soul mate. When her first date was botched by that asshole Christopher Thorn, she was so upset. Not because he made a grab at her, but because her fairy-tale date was ruined. Admittedly, she was a little freaked out, but not convinced that love is evil.

  I don’t believe in love or in being in love. I’ve had girlfriends before, but none of them made me want to burst into song. There’s this one girl. She lives next door, Jenna. Pretty, really pretty. We’ve been friends since we were snotty-nosed kids running around playing cops and robbers. I guess what I’m saying is I get how someone can feel in love with her. Just. Not. Me. I’ve seen what love does to people. How can I be sure I won’t turn out like him? Can I really do to Jenna what he does to Mom?

  Mom, a beautiful, strong woman. Yet she carries all her life lessons on her face. Her eyes are wise and not easily fooled. But there is a sadness there that will never go away. Her mouth is always pressed into a hard line. Like she’s keeping something inside. But it’s not due to us. Mom has never had a bad word for either of us, and we have tested those limits countless times.

  All three heads turn towards the door when we hear him enter the room.

  “Oh look, the cavalry is all here.” He makes a general sweep of the room with his arm. “Get the fuck out!” he shouts, stumbling through the door. I can tell he won’t make any trouble tonight. He has had way too much to drink. If he wants to start a fight, even Mia could push him over.

  “Mia, Kyle. You kids run along to bed now,” Mom says gently. She doesn’t want to poke the sleeping bear with a stick. Except the bear isn’t asleep, just very drunk. I look at her when Mia grabs hold of my hand and gives it a hard squeeze. She’s telling me not to say anything. I won’t. I’m with Mom on this. Don’t provoke the bear.

  I pull Mia up by her hand and move us around him, keeping my eye on him always. He slams the room door closed as soon as we step through it. I yank Mia out of the way and save her from a skull fracture, just in time.

  “Asshole,” Mia mutters under her breath. Her head is down, but I can see the wetness on her lashes.

  “Go to bed Mia. It will be okay.” I push her gently in the direction of her room. I watch until she closes the door behind her and I hear the telltale scrape of her dresser being shoved against the door.

  He has never hurt either of us unprovoked. Normally, he leaves us alone. He only hurts Mom. Because now that I’m no longer a scrawny teenager, I can do more damage than him. I’m faster and stronger and he knows it. Years of drinking have left him with a bloated belly and sagging muscles. His last drunken brawl with me did not bo
de him well. But still, with the odd jobs I’ve been doing, I’ve given him every single cent I make. Fighting upsets Mom. So if it can be avoided, I’ll do whatever it takes. I don’t make much but it helps keep Mom out of his book of debt. That is his excuse for beating on her. “All you and your stinky kids do is cost me money.” He uses it like it’s his personal motto or something. He doesn’t care that it’s a lie. It works for him and that’s all that counts. Mom has a job as a cashier at a local fast food place, but it pays peanuts. He eats here, demands that Mom cooks for him, and in order for him to eat, he has to buy food. We don’t touch his stuff. Ever.

  I walk down the dimly lit passage toward the bathroom. When your mind is a mess, the best thing to do is take a hot shower. When your body is broken, the best thing to do is take a very long shower. There is something about the way the water washes down your body that makes it feel better, renewed. Like tomorrow will be a better day. It creates the illusion that the water can just wash all your problems away. What I wouldn’t give to just watch this mess that is my life flow down the drain.

  In the shower, the hot water runs down my bowed head and trickles down my face. I close my eyes, and for a second, I succumb to the drowsiness clouding my brain. The water sneaks into my nose, and I gasp to catch a breath. Death by drowning is not on my list of things to do. I shake my head wildly to wake up my relaxed muscles and heavy eye lids.

  Pete had us offload four trucks today in the space of two hours. That cannot be done unless you are on a suicide mission. All I have for those two hours is twenty bucks. My hands and back are in a constant cramp. I’m exhausted. Stingy bastard. The rich get richer and us poor blokes? We work ourselves to death and stay poor.

  Mia told me about the grade twelve trip coming up next week. I heard about it too. I didn’t want to get her hopes up, so I said nothing. I know Mom is broke. She spent her last cents on the phones she got us for our birthday last week. Eighteen, going to school, and working my ass off. Everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I snort to myself.

  I spoke to Mr. Roland because my sister deserves to have a school holiday with her friends, her last year of high school. He has given me until Monday to come up with the $450 it will cost for us both to go. I won’t let Mia go alone, so it’s either all the money or we both stay home. Two days really isn’t long enough to come up with that kind of cash, but I have a plan.

  Dad left two old motorcycles in the garage when he died. I’ve always wanted to fix them, but cash is just too tight and parts are expensive. Pete, the guy I work for, might have a buyer. I’ll see if he shows up tomorrow like he said. If I get those bikes sold, we are good to go.

  The water runs cold, and I lift my heavy head to scan the room for my towel. My tired ass leans over too far, and my foot just won’t cooperate with my body. I slip on the wet floor and almost greet the tile with my face. I’m so tired that if I fell down now I would probably just sleep on the floor. But it’s good to know my reflexes are still working.

  I was dead on my feet a few minutes ago, but now, lying in my bed, sleep just won’t come. Instead, I’m staring at the dark ceiling of my bedroom. Looking for an answer that I won’t find up there. I need to find a better way to make money. A holiday for me and my sister is one thing, but I need to get Mom and Mia out of this place permanently.

  DAY TWO

  “Kyle, Kyle, wake up!” Mia says while jostling my shoulder. Sometimes my sister can be a pain in the ass. But I love her, and she won’t stop until she gets what she wants, so I open my eyes and blink in the bright light. What time is it?

  I turn my head in the direction of my alarm clock. It’s almost one o’clock.

  “There’s a guy downstairs to see you. He says you are selling Dad’s bikes?”

  “Yeah, if he’s serious, we might go on vacation next week.”

  Mia shrieks so loud I smack my hands over my ears to protect my ear drums.

  “Thank you, Thank you!” she shouts jumping up and down.

  “Yeah okay, now get out of my room so I can get dressed and see this guy. If he leaves, you and I aren’t going anywhere,” I say seriously.

  She sticks her tongue out at me before turning to leave the room. Just before she steps through the door, she turns back to me and smiles. The old Mia, the one who still sees the good in the world when all she’s been doing is shoveling shit, that’s the one smiling at me, not the meek girl from last night.

  I pull my shirt over my head and stick my feet into my boots. I don’t bother tying them. I plan on coming right back to bed after I meet this guy. I plan on doing nothing on this lovely Saturday but sleep.

  Mia follows close on my heels. Like she’s scared she’s going to miss something. I hope I don’t disappoint her. I run my fingers through my messy bedhead. I imagine the spiky pieces sticking up all over my head. I should scratch my belly and let out a real loud belch, just to see Mia’s reaction, because she’s watching me so closely. It’s as if she expects me to turn around any second and yell “psych!”

  Pete must hear the banging screen door, as Mia lets it swinging wildly behind her, and he turns around at that moment, his hungry old eyes roaming over my twin sister’s body. My fists clench tight against my body, and a throb starts on the side of my head.

  “Mia, you should go inside. You don’t have to be here,” I half growl at her.

  “What? Why?” she asks with wide eyes.

  “Because I said so, that’s why.”

  “No, you are not the boss of me,” she replies, equally annoyed.

  I don’t have to turn around to know she is staring daggers at my back. I can feel each and every one of them. I’m also fully aware that we are acting like a bunch of first graders.

  “So, where are these bikes? I can’t stand here all day,” Pete says.

  I walk off toward the garage and pull on the old rusted metal door. It screeches and whines, but eventually I muscle it open.

  I’m greeted by the smell of musty old wood and grease. I’ve spent a lot of time in here with my dad, working on these babies. But I haven’t been in here in a while, and I’ve forgotten how good this one baby looks. A real classic. But years of dust has worn her down. She’s still beautiful in spite of it. Pete sees it too because he walks straight to it.

  “I’ll give you a grand for this one. If it has papers,” he says, not bothering to look the bike over.

  “It has papers,” I try to smile. A grand for the 750 is a good price, but I’m sad to let it go. “Mia, go get the papers for the 750,” I say.

  She doesn’t say anything, but I hear her feet crunch on the gravel as she leaves.

  “How much do you want for the Off Road?” Pete asks.

  “I’ll sell it for $500. It’s still new, but it needs work.”

  “Five hundred dollars for this? I don’t think it’s worth it,” he says, trying to screw me out of the deal.

  “It’s worth it and you know it.” I work for Pete twice a week offloading trucks. I know he needs a new delivery vehicle for the smaller parcels, and the 125 Off Road model will be perfect. He will save a bundle on fuel, and the bike should be a lot cheaper to maintain than a car or a panel van.

  Pete looks the bike up and down then turns to me and grabs my hand.

  “Two hundred dollars and you have a deal. Now where is that hot sister of yours with my papers?” he asks, his greasy unshaved lip curling into a smirk.

  “Yeah, you have a deal,” I mutter. It’s a screw over, and if I didn’t need this money, I would punch him in the face, but then I would also lose my job. And I need both.

  “Relax, Kyle. Jeez, do you need a hit or something? You look like you are about to blow a vein,” Pete says, looking between me and the walkway to the house.

  “A what?” The question leaves my tongue like a lightning bolt and smashes into his face, immediately changing something in his eyes, putting him on guard.

  “Nah, never mind,” Pete says looking anywhere but my face.

  “Did you mean
a hit like drugs or something? I don’t do drugs,” I proclaim loudly. I’m proud I’m clean. That part of my life I can control. I don’t need something like drugs taking any more choices away from me.

  “Forget I said anything. I can see you are a good kid. But I can also see you need cash. I can help with that,” Pete says while pushing the 750 out of the door. I follow him, pushing the 125 next to me.

  If I get this money, we can pay for our trip, and I can give Mom some money to tide her over until we get back. But I need a permanent solution. I won’t be able to get a full-time job for another two months. Two more months of watching my mom and sister wither away under the increasing wrath of a titan. He is drinking more lately. It’s like the devil is on his heel and there’s a crucifix at the bottom of every bottle. But if Pete is offering me a job dealing drugs, I’m not interested. I won’t deal drugs.

  This town is riddled to the core with gangs fighting for territory. And the rich families running the gangs are pushing them to find new members. New recruits to build their fortune. The newspapers are full of stories about school kids going missing or getting caught dealing drugs. I have no aspiring dreams to become a runner.

  So while we load the bikes onto the trailer I stay quiet. I help Pete strap them in, and Mia walks over with the papers, faded with age. I know what the contract states. My dad bought the 750 just before he married Mom. When he was still young and free he used to joke.

  Mia writes up a handwritten contract until Pete can go to the traffic office and get the legal documents for transfer of ownership. Then we both stand and watch him count out the cash like it is small change. He stuffs a few remaining notes into his pants pocket, and with a wink to my sister, he slaps the cash into my hand.

  I hand Mia the cash and send her inside while I wait for Pete to leave.