Broken Bonds: First Love Young Adult Romance (True Lies Book 1) Read online

  BROKEN BONDS

  True Lies Series

  Book 1

  Laikyn Meng

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product(s) of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or meant to lend credibility and authenticity to the story. The use of brand names and locations should not be read as an endorsement of this author’s work. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  Copyright © 2019 THE ORANGE 9 PUBLISHING COMPANY

  ISBN: 9781710978216

  Previously published under S.M. Bjarnson, with the title Tangled Tears. Content has been updated and edited. ISBN: 1499131283

  ISBN-13: 978-1499131284

  18+ Mature content explicit language and sexual content.

  DEDICATION

  A.M. Thank You.

  To my sisters, for each of you can never be replaced.

  Thank you for all who read may you find peace.

  PROLOGUE

  We are all souls lost at sea. Wandering around yesterdays and the awe of could be; when will we be free to dream?

  The sign read DO NOT ENTER, ROCKS BELOW SHARP, in clear 3rd grade English. We all knew what it meant, the letters involved in creating the sentence, how it was soon to be read by passing cars or traveling hikers. It seemed as though it was a landmark, touching the matter of life or uncertain passing. Anything could happen in that instance. Anyone could fall from of grace, which we were given as a reminder of this life. There is no explanation for tragedy, only the connection of enduring such pain after it was left behind. I hated that part most of all, being left behind.

  True Love Never Ends

  Winter M. Moion & Chatt Thurgood.

  Episode

  1

  I smelled wet daisies as the light wind looped; the bark on the Aspen trees felt smoother than I’ve ever known it to be. Somewhere in the gray sky, the color of blue stripes itself out of place. The laughs and riddles bounce around it like a wave. A commotion you catch next are the bells and the mistakes loved ones chose.

  In momentary conflicts, they slip out of your livelihood. There you are, left trying to grasp onto empty false air. The cracking of branches, grass being uprooted to new foreign grounds. There stood no shelter insight, not for Chatt or even Winter.

  No matter where I go, the fatality of their demise will always be the forecast on my mind. I stumble to my step, catching glimpses of reality. Movement from this edge becomes improbable, turning your back on your home to find another desperate city longing for your companionship. Shelter from above promised to believe in for so many years, our belief superficially isolated. The wonderful creature of light gone from His post in a moment’s notice? Tell me because I can sense the darkness swallowing me whole snickering at me; open up, I become its prey.

  “Winnie, Winnie, Winnie, Winnie…” Eyes wide, searching canvases I relinquish to be accustomed to, there was no acclaiming her.

  Lost in a world believing angels would come to the Savior’s song, the scene of the crime left fake feathers floating beneath the temptation of disguised demons. Shuddering as a silent chill shoots along my strict spine. I shift my body, lost in the fog. Bullets of rain coming in definitive directions, establishing their own patterns amongst the tears upon my stained skin and wounded spirits.

  “She’s the only friend I’ll ever have,” I whisper to everything, living in nature. My thoughts in chaos to point the culpability, one wonder of God promising safe waters, while the other brother concocts his own will. Bystanders tallying the score of the fallen and the sacrificed.

  Mud kicked up in between wooden slabbed sandals, I cringe at my corrosive thoughts. Dead. Repeating it to myself. Dead. Gone, vanished from existence. Never to live again in mortal attire. Clothing drenched, thoughts raging, sirens blazing like the alarm of life will be reconnected. There was an uncanny of numbness, nothing but fading whispers and searching souls.

  Walking miles and miles, on no occasion do I come to the conclusion of avoiding, search for the exodus door, to flee from this imminent adversity. I scan my footwork and swaying arms, power stroking along the side of convinced calamity. Bury down the remorse I felt for myself, because at the moment, I gladly drown in the torment in a bond that can never be rebuilt; may it always remain broken.

  Strike

  2

  I must have been pacing for hours, maybe even an evening or two. All I knew was that I hit state border, collapsing on the side of a tourist road, roadkill waiting to be pressed so far into the highway asphalt there would be no evidence of this creature’s life. There was no vision in front of my face, no clouds or crowded landscapes waiting to be snapped, only a blank space.

  Colorless, with flares of bright lights dimming immediately to the notion I would never recover. The rocks beneath my feet agreeing as I listened to the song they played as I pressed each print back down into the curve of the earth.

  A familiar tide starts washing over me in vibrations, blink once or twice, trying to bring midnight into focus. Realize noise starts shouting from my phone somewhere in an undisclosed pocket. An ache grew as I longed to hear this very tune, my father’s ringtone. I dumbly blink again, pull away from his misinterpreted messages of concern. I was alone and he had no right to be a part of my pain.

  He didn’t lose her; he gave her away. Better than being tossed aside as he did in subtle sentences and gestures with shuffles of hands. No, he didn’t lose her, not as I lost her. A sister may as well have been my mother, and her body lay at the bottom of a cliff, freezing from accidental death. The kind of death the good and young ones always seem to be victims of.

  Jenkins’ name floats on the screen four more times than I am comfortable with. Among other text messages from people who considered themselves my friends; sympathy voters, I suppose.

  Winnie’s number flickers like a mirage in the desert; would she answer? How is the cell reception in Heaven? Throw the phone in uneasy angst, I know I must feel hurt; I bleed but have no wounds to share or staple shut. Here I lay, estranged on this abandoned roadway. Provoking myself into thinking everything will be okay.

  Jenks, could you give me a lift? Message sent, wet dirt painting itself over the plastic of my screen. Bury myself in disbelief; if I don’t accept, it didn’t happen right? Because there isn’t an ounce of faith that remains in me to believe she couldn’t be blink anymore.

  Positioned down on top of the dirt, drifting far from here. I find myself wafting in the unknown, it was almost tangible, picturing a world away from this one, one where I could be in control. Where happiness grew, and prosperity blossomed. Every morning is simple bliss, waking up to the sun beaming its glorious rays of warmth. Comforts that can make anyone feel at home, even me the busted burden of society.

  All that peace seems to disappear when I hear the screeching tires of a familiar navy street car pull up next to me. Good friend Jenkins has come to save the devoted damsel from being unrecognizable.

  “Autumn Jazmine! Are you okay? Oh my lord, where have you been?” Slipping his arm around my shoulders for support. Brushing nature’s perfections from my face, gently saddling me into the passenger seat of the car.

&nb
sp; “After I heard about the incident, I came looking for you. I left my phone on at basketball practice, checking it every fifteen minutes. Coach kept yelling at me to save it for later. Goddamn I am so happy you texted me, I—damn, Autumn, I was worried out of my mind. We thought we lost you too.” Concern pressed into my atmosphere. Leaning away from the affection I stare over to the lake of lurking black leeches. Silent, but always waiting, and guaranteed to make your blood bait for their torture.

  “Oh, why?” I fidget with my fingers, placing them underneath my tingling thighs. Now that heat hits me in all the right places I find my skin evolve into goosebumps; survival mechanism, I’m sure. Switch humanity has informed me I do not have permission to turn off.

  “Because…I thought, never mind, just glad you are alright and safe.” His words trail off as his hand grabs a blanket from the back seat, assisting in warming me. Jenkins’ actions do one thing while his words and posture sigh in defeat. He stares at me like he is on the verge of losing his world and I found myself wondering if the world was ever ours, to begin with.

  “How did you know where to find me anyway? I don’t even know where I’ve wandered to.” Shuddering in near disbelief I was in the car with a boy I barely knew, a guy I didn’t have intentions of allowing myself to want in my lifetime. There he was sitting next to me, trying to be a hero while we sat amongst the ashes of destruction.

  “Your dad told me, has GPS on your phone, sent me the location.” The guy driving us from the safe haven into despair, well he was as good-looking as any teenage kid was that looked at you with earnest lip-biting commotion.

  One fist clenched around the steering wheel while an elbow leaned against his door. Muscles that were probably illegal to other eighteen year olds. Those tight jaw clenches rippled throughout the rest of his body. I tried hard to remember if I was turned on by his form, or if it was the simple curiosity of wanting to see what a naked man looked like. But I shrugged, not caring either way. My attention span wasn’t in a place to make decisions.

  The last place he would even think of sending Jenks came to mind. Winter was 7 and I was 4. He had taken us to a summer cottage and we had played there by the lake, remember the leeches? Good, you are following. Eyes squint I remembered this place to be better, cheerful and welcoming. All I saw in the limelight of it now was broken shutters and a screen door tore down the middle, exposing a welcome sign barely hanging on with hope.

  “Come on, we better get you home.” He shifted gears higher and lower, depending on speeding and slowing at all the slopes and curves.

  “If my father sent you, we have no choice but to return and manage the chaos he is waiting to deliver.” Blame heavy on my shoulders for the demise of the best friend, I gave him a look of both puppy love and hungry monster eyes. Jenkins was confused about what to do next. As was I, but he had choices, free will even to press forward, while I would be sentenced for the crimes of poor judgment.

  Leave it be Starts At

  3

  “Please trust me, AJ.” Jenks thrust his hand out, I peered at it in dismay. Placing the blanket in his hand instead of a warm palm he probably was wishing in return. When I pulled my hand back to my side of the front seat, the chipped glitter nail polish caught light and I didn’t want the task of covering up Winter’s work of art.

  “I don’t think it’s trust you need, Jenks.” The heat turns up. Peering out the windshield onto the busy road. Insults aimed at a welcoming entrance, along with the man who stood behind it. I ached to know that affection, wanted to reach out and wrap myself in the comfort he offered. My thoughts go back to one thing; would he be worth losing? Shake those images out of my head; today I can’t weigh the cost of bargaining.

  “GPS huh? We both know my father didn’t make any attempts to search and rescue if my name was on the ballot, for reasons I try to understand.” I hesitate in my words, keep the distance from the line of worrying about my father’s ideas of me.

  “I remember some of the stories you used to tell in middle school about Winter and you. There was always one I heard most overall; the summer cottage by the lake.” His eyes playing mismatch with mine, uncomfortable with cataloguing my memories with his own.

  “After I heard about the accident…accidents, weren’t they? They must have been, right?” Laughs a cold cough, trying to make sense of the situation as best as we can with the clues we are given. I shifted my shoulders up and down, shrugging away from the thought of purposeful fate.

  “I went looking for you. Everywhere I could possibly think of, anywhere you would want to be left alone, searching wracking my brain for any possible hints.” Placing his hand on top of mine, it feels unfamiliar, possessive. I’ve held boy's hands before. The heat pressing into my soft skin, I do remember his hands holding mine in a past circumstance. All I recall is that I don’t want to remember anymore, even the good visions of his skin brushing mine, hearts rising and the heat of our bodies turning to each other.

  He pulls to a slow, my house in the clearing. Catering to the whimsical, romantic feeling I never did get about that old Victorian house. It wasn’t a home if you invited me to observe, not even a little bit. There were blue and red lights flickering through the cracks and crevasses; who wouldn’t feel at home? Making it come alive in a whole new scheme of things. I relax in seconds of calmness and certainty.

  “AJ, you’re home.” Jenkins spoke softly into my eardrum. “Don’t worry; I’ve got you, AJ.” He held me tightly next to his chest; the rain subsided quietly as it had come. My father in view, his voice in range.

  “ Autumn Jazmine, how gracious of you to present yourself to the situation. Put her down, Mister Thurgood, she is neither sick nor lame; requiring your assistance any further is discouraged. Thank you for your effort to rescue her, but you have wasted your time on the wrong daughter.” My father looks at me in disgust, my clothing draped around me like a wet curtain from the wreckage of past hurricanes.

  “Sir.” Jenkins places me down beside him, whispering to me if I am alright. There is stiffness in his posture and a world of rage as he glares down at the grass. I shake my head in a shiver. The wind prevails tonight, may it survive the eternities, because I won’t.

  “Thank you for the ride, have a good night.” I placed the unused towel in his hand, the hand I held. His position wavers only slightly.

  “No problem. Call if you need anything.” He gave me a stare that was promising.

  My father huffed. “She won’t need the likes of you young man, guaranteed.” Saying with a snarl as he fixed the wrinkle in his collared shirt. Persuading me away from Jenkins and into the billowing storm that would demolish every good thing in our lives.

  Locks click into place as the grand door slams behind him. Head lowered in utter shame, he begins to speak in my direction.

  "Where have you been, out with that kid?” Again with the nervous tick of fixing his cufflinks, quotations making marks upon marks. Rolling the tentative eyes if I were allowed to express such rebellion.

  "Does it matter?” Footsteps stomp toward me with his evil daring eyes.

  "Do you think you could be a little less conceited at a time like this, with the passing of your sister?" Demands, nearly spitting the accusation in my face, as he always did. Never mentioning Chatt; he didn’t give a thought or a careful damn about the parents who lost their son along with his daughter.

  I keep my eyes steady, hesitating on what exactly I should remark, unblinking tears making me seem vulnerable or weak.

  "Do you have any idea what it feels like having to worry about you? You! On top of hearing about Winter dying from something as reckless and stupid as bridge jumping! What the hell was she thinking? Her boyfriend made her careless, and it cost them their lives!" He slammed his hand against the marble table; the matching chairs rippled with the slap.

  "I'm sorry, I don't know what that is like; sounds pretty rough. First time at this parental caring trick?" Sarcasm filters through my teeth with words. He is so engulf
ed into his ranting he doesn't hear my retort; thank goodness for my sake. For the love of Jesus, I swear I almost snort. I must be delirious on sadness because I know what is coming and I would never have spoken this way out loud.

  "I knew the match of them was never a grand ideal; I perceived it so!" He paced around the foyer, stomping as he went.

  "She isn't stupid, Dad. They had a love for one another, one that no one can deny." I trailed off saying something along the lines of, "You wouldn't know anything about that, though, now would you?" My mistake, hit too close to home? Too soon after your wife left you 10 years ago?

  "What did you say to me, young lady?" His face was angry, his movements intentional.

  "Well…" I began to say. His hand stopped my words before I could. Too soon to make a joke indeed.

  Slap!

  "How dare you disrespect me!"

  Slap!

  Grabbing his hand right before another hit to the other side of my broken face.

  "Don't touch me again," I calmly state in thick concrete.

  “Just go to your room,” he stated, like I had made the mistake. Like I was the one who had plenty of friends clamoring at my door wishing to partake in the knowledge I could give to them.

  In one swift movement, I transformed from the sideline daughter to the one and only daughter. Family and close friends positioning their prized soul mate six feet below the crust of the earth’s surface. Making no interpretation of whether or not they might survive. How well did they even know my beloved sister?

  I rolled my young eyes, no sympathy from me to them. She had clearly been a notable figure in others’ eyes; in mine, she was the light in my murky world. Without that light I’m blinded by obscurity, traveling through my own visions of skepticism.