There was nothing about Trisha Williams current circumstances that she was proud of. No. That wasn’t entirely true. She loved her baby boy, Kian. She just wished she’d been able to give him a better life.
Too many times she’d been ashamed of the things she had to do to put a dilapidated roof over their heads with little to no food. But try as she might to have altered her course in life, she’d also known that once certain decisions had been made when she’d found out she was pregnant, there was no changing it.
Prostitution wasn’t exactly what Trisha had planned for life, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d had huge hopes for her life, but none of it had worked out the way she’d planned. All of that had changed with one accident.
If she had just listened to her instincts, she never would have opened that damn door. Not that it would have done much good based on the…thing that was before her. Never in her life had she seen someone so filled with rage and hatred. But it wasn’t even that, it was the pure glee in his eyes that terrified her the most.
Agony slammed into Trisha Williams as a fist the size of a battering ram hammered against her abdomen again. Air exploded out of her lungs causing dark spots to dance before her eyes as she willed the darkness to take her. She was ready to give up on ever breathing again when her body’s instinct to survive kicked in and she sucked in a much needed breath.
The scent of her blood filled the air, mixing with the rank odor coming from the man above her. His sweat dripped onto her body, not that she could feel it when rivulets of her own sweat and blood were running along her skin. The thing was, Trisha couldn’t be sure the rancid odors were real or imaginary since her nose was broken. Nor did it matter as another punishing blow found its way onto her already weak and injured form.
Nails, far larger and sharper than she’d ever seen, pierced her skin and she screamed as fire licked its way through her veins. The tortuous throbbing that pulsed throughout her with a beat too strong to ignore, had forced Trisha Williams to pray for the one thing she never imaged wanting – death.
A snarl from the man determined to pummel her already frail body, rumbled through the room. But it was the unholy gleam in his terrifyingly dark eyes that promised he would grant her wish to die. Just not anytime soon.
Pure satisfaction was etched into his features with each scream that was ripped from her. Whoever this…man was, enjoyed every moment of pain he was inflicting. If only she hadn’t opened that damn door.
She didn’t know who he was, or how she’d been unlucky enough for him to find her. Then again, considering the way her life had been going, she shouldn’t be that surprised. Hell would be a good description of what she’d endured the past couple of years. What she couldn’t understand was, why her?
In the beginning, Trisha William’s life had been the stuff young girls dreamed of. There’d never been a time when she didn’t know she was pretty. With blonde hair that didn’t come from a bottle, blue eyes and a lithe figure, guys had always chased after her.
Life couldn’t have been better. She had been the captain of the cheerleading squad for the Razorbacks in high school, dated the quarterback and was liked by everyone. Her charmed life continued when she’d become Homecoming and Prom Queen in her senior year.
After high school she enrolled at Lipscomb University, a private religious college in Nashville that her parents had ensured she attended by donating a large sum of money. Why they felt the need to do that when she was a straight A student, Trisha hadn’t understood or cared.
She’d easily made new friends who showed her the fun that could be had in a city the size of Nashville. Her life had been perfect and Trisha had known, without a doubt, she was meant for something great, even if she hadn’t figured out what that was yet.
At the age of twenty she met the love of her life, Andrew Williams. He was a dashing twenty-six-year-old law student attending nearby Vanderbilt University. His sandy colored hair and blue eyes were so full of life, they entranced her from the first moment they met. The decision to quit school or lose the love of her life when he was offered a job in Knoxville was a no brainer. She’d chosen love.
Her parents hadn’t been impressed. Andrew may have attended the prestigious Southern Ivy League school, but his parents were still middle class with little in the way of money or influence. In an effort to control their only daughter, they’d threatened to disown her.
Trisha was too in love to care and married Andrew anyway. Like a fairytale that would clearly end in happily ever after, they bought a house and had a son by the time she was twenty-two. Not able to afford both of them in school, Andrew had continued his education and she’d worked to pay the household bills.
After Andrew had gotten an offer with the law firm of his choice, they were contemplating having another child. Before they could make that dream come true she lost Andrew when she’d turned twenty-four. He was killed in a hit and run. With no college degree and not enough money to raise their two-year-old son, Trisha had swallowed her pride and went to her parents.
According to them, she had made her bed and it was time for her to lie in it. Trisha’s charmed life came to a crashing halt.
It hadn’t taken long before Trisha found herself making decisions that would cost her dearly. It had taken mere months to run through the money she and Andrew had saved because she hadn’t had the heart to sell the house they’d bought. When she hadn’t been able to make the payments, the bank foreclosed, leaving her with nothing.
She’d been forced to move with her son into an apartment in a less than desirable neighborhood while she worked as a waitress in a nearby diner. Money had been tight and many days Trisha went without food in order to feed her son. Between her broken heart, little food and working herself into the ground to keep a roof over their heads, Trisha’s health deteriorated rapidly.
Her boss hadn’t been understanding, not that Trisha could blame him. She’d often had to take long breaks when her body refused to keep going. When it became clear she could no longer keep up with her tables, she’d been fired.
Refusing to allow her little boy to live on the streets, Trisha had done the only thing she could to keep earning money. Prostitution. There was nothing she wouldn’t have done to keep her son safe.
Safe – that word held a new meaning. Molten fire raced through her veins as the pain continued to pulse through her not allowing her to succumb easily to the blackness that tried to envelop her. Giant, meaty fists continued to make contact with her battered body but she no longer had the ability to scream. Whimpers were the best she could do.
Sprawled on the floor, Trisha could barely see her attacker any longer out of her swollen eyes. Not that she wanted to. She’d seen enough to never be able to forget the pure evil that emanated from him.
She’d known the moment she’d opened the door to find that ominous dark gaze staring back at her, she wasn’t going to survive. The man was large, well over six feet, with muscles that bulged everywhere. The menacing gleam of excitement she’d witnessed in his eyes, had her trying to slam the door shut before he could enter.
Faster than she could move, his hand had shot out against the door, forcing it to stay open. Anticipation had practically vibrated off of him at her rash move. He appeared to look at her like a predator who knew he had his prey trapped.
All Trisha could think about was that her six-year-old son, Kian, was in the closet promising not to come out until the man had left. She had sent a silent prayer that he wouldn’t find her little boy.
His fist came down again, but Trisha barely felt it. Her body had gone numb as blood continued to seep out of her. She was close to death. A part of her prayed for it to come.
Guilt swamped her as she glanced to the closet. Her only regret was leaving her beautiful son all alone. He would have to grow up without his mother and no family to take care of him.
That was only if the man beating Trisha didn’t find him. She once more prayed Kian stayed put. The thought of her assailant finding her son wasn’t something Trisha would allow herself to imagine. Not that she could do anything to stop him. No. All she could do now was hope Kian remained safe.
Trisha fought her way through the darkness when she felt tiny fingers on hers. She had no clue when she’d passed out but she found herself bracing for the next blow. Expect, there wasn’t one. Had he left?
Then she felt it again, small fingers brushing against her. Kian. Trisha forced herself to wake up. If it was the last thing she did, she would stop that man from hurting Kian.
Long seconds, maybe even minutes later she’d finally managed to pry her heavy, swollen eyelids open as far as she could. She could barely see through the slit of her right eye. Her left one wouldn’t even open. Everything around her was blurry but she scanned the room as much as she could move her head, to find her attacker gone.
Relieved, her tense body relaxed. At least her son would be safe.
Kian lay next to her, curling up against her side. The agony spurred by Kian’s touching her, caused Trisha to scream. Thankfully she hadn’t managed to make more than a slight moan as her throat was too raw from screaming after doing so for so long. The last thing Trisha wanted to do was scare her already terrified son.
Anguish ate away at her. She hated having to leave her precious boy, but Trisha didn’t have a choice. The little energy she’d had to ensure her son was safe, caused the blackness to return, surrounding her cold, traumatized body. She was dying and there was no way to save herself. As a blissful numbness settled over her she squeezed her son’s hand praying Kian would know he was loved.
It took everything within her, but eventually she managed to whisper, “I love you, Kian. Always.”
It wasn’t much, but she prayed he would remember those words and know she meant them.