Prologue
(Reagan at the age of 16)
Family.
As defined in any human context, had many several meanings. One meaning would be a myriad of things sharing the same attribute. Another meaning would be a correlation of people who shared a common belief containing one or more in general.
As I look back upon a time, I could say that family was one of the most important perspectives of a person's life. The upbringing, the environment, and the moulding of one's character became a part of one's identity.
In this respect, it remained of utmost importance to initiate, cultivate, maintain, and prioritize family relationships.
I, however, had a loving dad, Michael, who dotted and adored me like no other. He had a promising career as a consultant to some big-time corporate tycoon and had provided our household with everything we wanted or needed. He was burly and tall, around six-foot-one with short wavy brown hair, sharply chiselled features with grey eyes that sparkled with great happiness. My mother, Lilly, the love of my dad's life, also loved me with the same magnitude as him. She was a gorgeous woman with long caramel-colored hair and warm sea-green eyes that showed warmth and care.
I was a pampered child, lavished with gifts and adoration but yet, I wasn't spoiled. I was brought up to be well-mannered and to be thankful for what I have.
We, I could safely say were a happy middle-class family.
Unfortunately, the format had changed.
Everyone had a different definition of family, no one in combination was right or wrong.
Then again, when I turned 8 years old. My whole world came crashing down in a spiral. I remembered it all too vividly. It was around Saturday afternoon, I was in my room reading in my bed when my dad came in suddenly with a scornful look on his face.
The only thing he said was, ‘It's all your fault.’
I didn't know what he was blaming me for. I was a well-behaved child, but the next thing hadn't prepared me for the worst.
Face livid and deathly scary, he marched across the room, yanked me off the bed and punched me in the gut. Not one, two, or three but five times to the point of making me gag.
That, my friend, marked the start of his abuse and to be honest, I had no idea what were his reasons.
If fate had it all written out for you, it could have been a good one in retrospect to my happy upbringing.
But not this.
It went on for years and the beatings got worst. He would come home drunk or never would come home at all for a few days. He had actually lost his job and had become a has-been. I couldn't exactly remember when was the last time my mother looked me straight in the eye. My sweet loving mother adored me to no end but she changed as well, just like my dad. She became distant and feeble. Whenever I tried to ask her why dad was being like this, she couldn't give me a straight answer. She would just stutter about nonsense or walk away.
The once happy family had become a group of complete strangers in their own homes.
Staring at my bedroom ceiling, I tried to suppress the throbbing ache in my ribs as dad kicked me again with much-intended force. "It's all your fault!" he snarled at me with that overly used sentence every time he went on an abusive rampage. He kicked again but this time, it was directed to my face.
"You're worthless!" he spat kicking me again but on the side of my arm." You make me sick!"
I couldn't do anything but received all the blows he inflicted on me. Not a squeak nor a groan. I suppress it all.
After kicking me several times, he shot me a sneering look and walk out of the room banging the door shut in the process.
As his footsteps grew faint, I curled up in a ball as the pain shoot all throughout my body. How could I go to school like this? It hurts like hell but, staying in this cold dreary house wasn't exactly ideal so I stood up carefully and walked to my en suite bathroom.
Taking in my appearance in the mirror, I sighed heavily. My wavy dark brown hair stuck out in different directions and my pale blue eyes looked tired and hopeless. Bryson was going to be furious when he sees the newly formed bruise on my cheek. No amount of concealer could cover this bugger so I gently touched the sore spot and I jerked, hissing at how painful it was then a groan escaped my lips as my ribs ached from my abrupt movement.
Great.
With another dejected sigh, I made a resolve to prepare myself for school like any normal day.
"Good Morning baby," Bryson purred behind me as he slid his arm around my waist."I missed you heaps."
I smiled and slammed my locker to face my boyfriend."Hello there handsome," I chirped and reached out to stroke his cheek with my thumb.
Bryson and I had been dating now for a year. He was the perfect boyfriend that any girl could ask for. He was popular while I was just a nobody but not entirely an outcast. Half of the female population drooled over this hunk of a man that I call mine. Who wouldn't? He was gorgeous as he stood six feet one, with short unruly brown hair, piercing cerulean blue eyes and nose straight; not too narrow nor wide.
He grinned and leaned in but froze as his eyes averted to the heavily concealed bruise. 'Oh please. Oh please. Make him not noticed it,' I chanted in my brain.
"Reagan," he said his voice low and edgy."You're wearing too much make-up today."
Translation: 'He hit you again, didn't he?'
So much for having a very perceptive boyfriend.
I sighed and looked away. He knew about my abuse. He sussed it out of me on the third month of our relationship when he saw the bruises one time when I forgot to cover them up. He wanted to kill my dad but I couldn't let him. I still loved my father even though he changed.
"I fell down the stairs," I lied.
Bryson's face hardened not very pleased with my fib. "Don't lie to me," he said lowly as his hold on my waist tightened. "I can't stand seeing you like this baby. Why can't you leave that house and come live with me? My dad would be glad to have you around."
I sighed and faced him again."Bryson, I can't," I said smiling sadly."I know your dad likes me but your mother hates me with a passion."
He rolled his eyes."Screw mom. I just want my baby safe and protected."
He was too sweet for words. I smiled."Well..."I drawled. "I feel safe here in your arms."
He smirked, my abuse issue forgotten."Oh really now?" he asked suggestively as he leaned in again to brush his lips teasingly on mine. "Want me to demonstrate?"
I giggled as my heart hammered at his all too familiar seductive ways."Show me," I said breathlessly.
He smirked and backed me up against my locker, my back pressed on the cool metal. He pressed his body to mine and said."You asked for it," and crashed his lips to mine.
He was a good kisser alright. The way he kissed wasn't sloppy and demanding. It was slow, sweet and made my toes curl with sheer delight. But someone just had to ruin our moment. "EW!" a familiar screechy voice cried out in distaste.
Oh good god! Why?!
With a groan, Bryson pulled back. "Get loss Rebecca," he said not looking away from me. "Go bother someone else."
I looked away from him to glare hateful daggers at the school's slut."What do you want?" I sneered.
She rolled her eyes."Oh nothing." she stated as she looked at my boyfriend with flirty eyes."You're looking good Bryson."
This was nothing new. She was constantly flirting with my boyfriend and couldn't take the hint that he wasn't interested.
Bryson swung about and glowered at her. "Rebecca, like I said before and I say it again. Stop flirting with me. I'm not interested."
She pouted, pretending she was hurt."Aww! You don't mean that. I know you want me not that freak over there," she said pointedly.
"Reagan is not a freak. She's--" but the sound of the school bell overpowered the rest of his sentence.
I grabbed his arm and tugged it."Come on. Let's head to class."
He sighed and obliged." Fine," he said and wrapped his arm around my waist. He shot Rebecca a scornful glance."Don't make me repeat myself."
With that said, we walked off.
Bryson escorted me to my first-period class like always. As we reached the doorway, he leaned in to give me a lingering kiss on the lips." I love you," he mumbled.
"I love you too," I replied.
He pulled away and smiled. "I'll see you at lunch. I'll save you a seat."
I scowled at him. I hated sitting at the popular table. "I don't like sitting with your obnoxious friends."
He rolled his eyes." They're not that bad." he defended."Tell you what, you can bring Ciara with you so you won't be alone." he offered. That was a double whammy. Ciara hated those obnoxious creeps and she would rather have a root canal than sit at the popular table.
"Hi, Reagan!"
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Well, she is in Ciara's case.
I twirled around to face my best friend since middle school. "Hey, carrot top." I teased. She hated that nickname seeing the colour of her hair was similar to the Beta Carotene-filled vegetable.
She scowled clearly not pleased. "Stop calling me that."
"Baby, I have to go. See you at lunch."Bryson said as he started to walk away heading for his first-class as well. "Bring Ciara with you."
I nodded. "Will do. See ya later!"
He smiled and turned around heading towards the Humanities wing.
At the corner of my eye, Ciara was looking Bryson's retreating back dreamily like a lovestruck fool.
'That was weird,' I thought. With a shrug, I snapped my fingers in front of her face to get her attention."Hey!"
She blinked her eyes multiple times and blushed profusely."Oh. Did I spaced out?"
I rolled my eyes."No, you were trying to figure out if the moon was made of cheese," I said sarcastically." Yeah, you spaced out now come on. Let's go inside."
I whirled her around and pushed her back gently towards the classroom. In the back of my mind, I longed for this day to drag on forever because I didn't want to go home to that wretched house I called home.
"You worthless piece of trash!" my dad snarled, punching me across the face.
As usual, he came home drunk and was in abusive mode. I had been his human punching bag for many years and I didn't know why.
I whimpered from the pain and looked at him with a tear-stained face. "Please stop." I pleaded while holding my sore cheek. Before, I didn't bother saying anything but this had to stop. This was too much. I needed to know why.
He scoffed, "Why should I? You don't deserve to live," he sneered and punched me in the gut again.
I let out of woosh of air, the searing pain nearly knocked the breath out of me.
I stumbled a few steps back. "But why? What did I do wrong to deserve this?" I choked through the tears. The pain was now bearable and I bit my lip to numb the feeling.
"You are a waste of space, Reagan! It's all your fault! If it wasn't for you, your mother and I could have been happy." He sneered in front of my face. His breath was tinged with alcohol and it made me want to gag.
"What? What do you mean?" I asked.
"LILLY! Where the hell are you?!" he screamed mom's name.
I heard shuffling from the top floor. Loud footsteps barreled down the stairs, and then I saw mom looking tired and weary when she entered the living room. Her once glowing caramel-coloured hair was now dull. Her face was sallow and gaunt and had dark bags under her green eyes and was bloodshot as though she had been crying.
She looked like a broken woman. A stranger to my eyes.
She timidly sat down on the couch and looked at dad with fear in her eyes.
"Lilly, why don't you tell your degenerate daughter your secret?" dad snarled at her. He was swaying from left to right holding a whiskey bottle in his left hand.
My mom gulped and turned to face me with a pale-stricken face. I looked at her questioningly, "What secret?" I asked.
"Yeah Lilly. Tell her your secret." He taunted.
She breathed in and croaked the words which would alter my life forever, "Reagan, honey, Michael is not your real father."
My breath caught in my throat, "What?"
She choked through the tears, "Your real father was Michael's best friend, Luke."
"More like lying betraying scumbag." My so-called dad sneered.
"It happened when I was 18. Michael was out of town so I was stuck with Luke at that time. We talked and hanged out and one thing led to another and..." she said not finishing her phrase.
My head was reeling with this piece of information. She slept with Luke, my so-called dad's best friend, and Michael blamed me for their failed marriage. Am I a reminder of that indiscretion? No wonder Michael hated me so much.
"Reagan, baby, I--" she pleaded but I stopped her mid-sentence.
"How could you keep this from me? If you had told me sooner, I could have saved you the trouble by throwing myself at a foster home, so I won't have to deal with being this bastard's punching bag!" I yelled, not keeping my anger in check anymore.
"Reagan, please listen to me. Hear me out." My mom said, reaching for my arm. I swatted her hand and she flinched.
I stood up backing away, "I don't want to be here." I mumbled to myself on the verge of tears again. I couldn't bear to look at my mom's face right now, so I ran out of the house and headed to Bryson's.
He lives a few blocks from mine, so I just ran as if my life depended on it. I imagined my boyfriend's warm comforting arms enveloping me in a hug, and that alone would ease the pain I'm feeling right now.
The familiar two-story beige house was now in sight, so I ran at full speed and was now bounding up the porch. I fixed myself up and knocked on the door, waiting for it to open.
I knocked again.
I frowned.
It seems no one was answering, so I tried the knob to check if it's locked. I turned it and was shocked to know that it's open. I entered the foyer and hollered if anybody was home.
"Hello? Bryson?" I yelled.
I heard loud music upstairs so I headed up there, knowing Bryson might be in his room. I climbed the stairs two at a time and sped to his room.
I was smiling, thinking about him so when I reached his bedroom door, I opened it and what I saw nearly crushed me to death.
He was on top of Rebecca, screwing her brains out. Yeah, the jerk was screwing her big time.
But that was not the point.
When Rebecca saw me enter the room she just smirked at me and told Bryson that she loved what he was doing.
Boy, was I furious?
I put on a fake smile, "Hey Bryson. Great party you're having here and you didn't even invite me? That is just cruel." I said, faking a pout.
He stopped moving and stiffened. He turned his head to look at me and his face became pale white.
"Re-Reagan... It's not what you think." he lamely reasoned.
I rolled my eyes, "Like what? That you are with the whore there." I said glaring, "I ain't stupid, Bryson. I know what it looks like."
He stood up grabbing his boxers from the floor and put it on. He started approaching me, "Reagan, let me explain here. I--" he said but I interrupted him.
"Save it, Bryson. You know what? I came here because I thought my BOYFRIEND would comfort me because I was so heartbroken. I just found out that my dad is not really my dad. My mom slept with my so-called dad's best friend when she was younger so I was the product of her raging teenage hormones, and what's even worst, my so-called dad blames me for their failed matrimony!" I said my breathing becoming ragged. I could feel the traitorous tears were about to fall, but I surreptitiously swiped them, not wanting him to see it. He doesn't deserve my tears.
He just stared at me.
I saw Rebecca sauntered toward Bryson and hug him from behind, "Come on, baby. Let's continue where we left off." She purred.
As tears were threatening to spill into my eyes again, I couldn't understand what was happening. I thought Bryson loved me, really loved me for he had uttered so many 'I love you' a thousand times but this, I couldn't swallow it to begin with. Was I the only one thinking we were happy that he only needed me and only me? Was I under the delusion that our relationship was perfect despite the shit that I had been through?
Bryson was my anchor, that I could tell you much. He had helped me get through all the bullshit with my family but now, seeing him this way broke my heart into tiny pieces, never to be glued back again and yet still, I couldn't understand why this happened.
But who the fuck cares.
I shouldn't be here. I need to get out of here. Anywhere but here.
So I turned around and left. Bryson yelled for me to come back but I just flipped him the bird.
To hell you with you, mother.
To hell with you, Bryson.
To hell with everyone!
I ran.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.
I didn't care where I was going. My prime objective was to get away from everyone and from the heartache that it brought.
I kept running and running and when I rounded off a corner, I bumped into something hard, the impact knocked the wind out of me as I fell on my butt, hard.
"Ow," I wailed. "That hurt."
"Look what we have here fellas," a male voice cooed maliciously. "We got ourselves a pretty girl."
As I looked up, a cold shiver ran up my spine as I took in the person I bumped into. He had long black hair, dull silver eyes, sharp, defined features and his lips were curled up into a sadistic smile. He had an air of menace as he stood above me, intimidating and imposing. The men behind him were no different either.
I was in deep trouble, for sure.
Standing up slowly, I put on my bravest face and said, "I'm sorry about that. I'll be on my way." And turned to leave.
However, the man had other plans as he grabbed my arm and spun me roughly around. "Where do you think you're going, girl?" he asked with a sneer. He eyed me up and down with malice in his eyes and that bone-chilling fear was intensified, making my knees wobbly.
"I said I was sorry. Please let me go," I told him with a shaky voice.
Chuckling, he slammed me to the wall and I let out a whoosh of air from the impact.
Damn it! That hurt like a mother!
"No, no, no," he crooned as leaned closed to my face, pressing his body on mine as it made me uncomfortable. "You should be punished for bumping into me right fellas?"
His friends cackled as a response.
As I look behind him on a sly, I found out I was in a shady part of the city. The bad part that is. A big mistake on my part but I was so into running away to notice. At this rate, no one will be able to help me and right about now, I guess I deserve this fate.
'So be it then,' I thought to myself.
"Don't you think it's rude to manhandle a young lady like that?" a deep, baritone voice called out.
With a grunt, the man turned his head and said, "Piss off." And went back to face me.
Craning my neck a bit, I saw a man with dark brown wavy hair and had piercing dark blue eyes, standing a few meters away. His skin was flawless, like alabaster and he was sporting a frown on his gorgeous face.
"I'd let her go if I were you," he warned, slowly walking forward.
The man laughed and stepped away from me, his body no longer pressing against mine. "Are you threatening me?" he asked in between laughs. "I can't believe it. This punk had the nerve to threaten me."
The man walked toward his goons and they started to advance on the gorgeous man.
He nodded. "I guess so," he said and then averted his gaze on me. "Run, little one."
I frowned. "What?"
He glared, his piercing dark blue eyes glinted dangerously. "I said run and don't look back."
Gulping, I nodded and ran like my life depended on it.
Whoever you are, thank you...
For saving my life.
Two days had passed and somehow, I ended up at the bus stop after my aimless walking in the city. I was like a nomad with no place to go. It was dark and cold. I was hungry and was down to my last dollar that I still managed to scrape from being stingy with my food spending. Through it all, I had slept for the first time outside of the comforts of my home but what choice do I have? I couldn't go back home and being in there hurts.
And there's Ciara, my best friend. I could go to her but including her with my shit?
I don't think so.
As I walked, I could see smoke coming out of my mouth every time I breathe out a sigh and each step felt like lead, heavy and straining. Finally, I saw a momentary comfort to soothe my aching feet.
A bench.
Sighing, I sat on and lifted my legs up to my chest. The chain of events had finally caught up to me, so the only thing I could do right now was cry.
I cried and cried.
I cried for my mother. I cried for Michael. I cried for Bryson.
And most of all, I cried for myself.
I was too caught up with my emotions not to notice a guy was sitting next to me with a sombre expression on his face. He looked to be around his early 20s and was extremely gorgeous. He had dark slight wavy brown hair that fell over his piercing dark blue eyes. He had a straight nose, and his lips were red and kissable. I tried not to gawk but I just couldn't help it. He stared at me and I looked away, blushing from the embarrassment that he caught me.
For some reason, he looked familiar but I shook that thought away. He was stranger danger at 3:00 o'clock.
I vigorously wiped my tears with the sleeve of my plaid shirt. "Sorry," I mumbled and started to get up.
He just smiled, "We meet again," he said and he had a slight accent which I couldn't recognize.
I froze and turned my head to look at him, frowning. "Excuse me?"
"I said, we meet again."
Now he got me confused. I sat back again on the bench and stared at him. "Have we met before?" I asked.
He nodded. "I was the one who saved you the other day."
I cringed as I remembered that incident, finally understanding what he meant. He was the mysterious man who had saved me from being manhandled by those perverts. I knew the streets of New York were dangerous but my brain was too muddled to care. Who could blame me?
"Now you remember?"
Blinking, I gazed at him and nodded slowly. "Yeah... what happened to the men after I ran?"
He stiffened a bit and then, he took a deep breath. "Taken cared of," he simply said.
"Oh," was my genius reply.
"So..." he drawled. "What were doing in that part of the city and why are saying sorry for crying?" he asked.
I scoffed. "I cried for people who didn't deserve my tears," I replied, slyly avoiding his first question.
He frowned, "What do you mean, little one?"
I narrowed my eyes, "Little one? I'm 16 you know."
He chuckled, "To me, you are a little one."
"How old are you anyway?" I asked, and I almost kicked myself for asking.
"Uh, 21?" he said unsure.
I furrowed my eyebrows, "You're not sure about your age?"
He shrugged "I don't bother with my age. It's just a number." He stated coolly.
"By the way, I can't help but detect that you have a slight accent," I said sheepishly.
He smiled, "I'm Danish. I'm originally from Denmark but moved here a couple of years ago, so I sort of adapted the American twang, but the accent always comes out. I can't help it."
I sat properly and stuck out my hand for him to shake, "My name's Reagan."
He smiled and shook my hand, "Derek." He said and lifted my hand to his lips to kiss it.
I blushed and pulled my hand from his grasp.
"So Reagan, how about you tell me what made you cry." He prodded.
I frowned, "I just met you."
He smiled, "People who you barely know are the best listeners."
"What are you doing here at the bus stop? Alone?" I retorted ignoring his remark.
He shrugged, "I had a bad night so I decided to take a walk."
"And you ended up at a bus stop?" I asked.
"Pretty much." he grinned.
I just rolled my eyes and told him the whole story. He just listened, urging me to continue patiently when I was on the verge of crying. After I poured out my sob story, he didn't say anything. He didn't give me the pitying look. He just listened to me.
"So, now here I am, and I have nowhere else to go," I said, ending it with a sigh.
He thought for a moment, putting on his thinking face. After a while, he finally stood up and stared at me. I looked at him questioningly.
He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. "I know this sounds crazy and this is so inappropriate that we have just met but for some reason, I just felt like this is the right thing to do so come. Starting today, you are living with me."
I gasped, "I can't do that."
"Of course, you can. I live in a big house. By myself. Alone. And it gets lonely so you can live with me." He said then shrugged.
"What if you're a serial killer?" I said while narrowing my eyes.
"If I was, I could have killed you by now." He countered.
He had a point, "Okay you got me. But is it okay?"
He smiled, "You have nowhere to go and it's fine. You can stay with me, and besides, I need someone to annoy." He said and ruffled my hair.
I just giggled, "Fine but I won't slack off. The least I can do is clean and cook for you."
He grinned, "Great. I could use a good home cook meal for once. I've been living through takeouts."
I chuckled and smiled, "Well, it's settled then." I said while taking his hand.
He smiled and squeezed my hand softly. I squeezed his hand back and smiled.
"So shall we go?" he asked.
"Sure and Derek?"
"Yeah?" he asked.
I smiled. "Thank you for saving me."
With that, we started walking to his house and I never looked back.
Author's Note:
Hello! This is The Red Delilah. Thank you for stumbling upon my story. I hope you enjoyed the beginning so far. I know it starts off a bit slow but rest assured, the story will progress in an unexpected way. There will be twists and turns and unexpected things you'd never thought would happen. Once again, thank you and enjoy reading!