Beautifully Broken (The Beautiful series Book 1) Read online

  Beautifully Broken

  Tara Lee

  Contents

  Prologue

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Luna

  Ethan

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Bishop

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Luna

  Ethan

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Playlist

  Coming from Tara Lee

  About the Author

  To all the beautifully broken people in the world. No matter what life throws at you, wear that crown and conquer it with a smile.

  Prologue

  I drive a fist into the big oak tree by the pond. My heart races at the familiar sting, my breath is ice cold, and tears fall down my cheeks. Blood drips down over my knuckles. It helps make me feel better. Why do you ask? Good question. I have no clue. The pain helps me to breathe better. It takes away the other pain I feel every day.

  It’s been one week since my brother, Brantley, fell to his death. I watched it happen. I couldn’t save him. My so-called father couldn’t care less if it smacks him in the balls. Mother isn’t any different. I can’t even tell you where the fuck she is, and I don’t give a fuck either. I’m angry, that much is clear. My anger is what gets me into trouble. It makes me fight mostly with myself -yeah, I find ways to hurt myself. Like I said, it takes the pain away. I have a lot of pain for a twelve-year-old, something no kid should ever have.

  I stare up at the sky, my eyes glassy from the booze I stole from dear old Daddy. Shit is good, though. It’s taken the pain away, if only for a little while.

  “Why the fuck did you leave me?” I scream at the top of my lungs, my arms out wide as I circle around.

  “You said you never would,” I yell again.

  Tears stream down my face. I wipe at them angrily. I hate when I cry. Tears are a weakness they’re, no good to me. I’m on my own now. I have to be strong and I have to take care of myself. Fuck everyone else. I hate the fucking world. All it does is cause disaster and heartbreak.

  “Fuck you for leaving, Brantley.” I swipe at those tears again and storm off, my feet sinking into the wet ground. This is stupid anyway. He can’t hear me and he sure as shit isn’t coming back.

  “Please don’t act up this time, Ethan.” my social worker, Miss Harper, says, eyeing me sideways from her seat in the car. I roll my eyes but bite my tongue on the words that want to spill from my mouth.

  I don't bother answering; what's the point? I cross my arms over my chest and stare out my window into the emptiness that is my life. We pass fields and barely any houses. Where the hell is she taking me?

  “It’s a farm,” she says as if reading my mind. “I think you’ll like it there.” Yeah, right, that’s what she said about the last four places I was at. Being a troubled twelve-year-old boy doesn’t give me much room for error. People don't like my attitude or my behavior, so I get tossed to the curb pretty quickly. They say I have behavioral issues. whatever the hell that means. I don't know what people expect in my twelve years of life in this god forsaken place. Its been nothing but one fuck-up after another, one shit-storm after another, and definitely one heartache after another.

  My mother left us when I was three and Brantley was ten. She walked out, and we never saw her again. Our father was an abusive drunk who took his temper out on his sons. We couldn't even look at him sideways without getting backhanded across the face. Brantley tried to protect me as much as he could, even going as far as hiding me from our so-called father. But he always found me. I stopped trying to explain the bruises to my teachers. There is no point; no one saved us then, and no one sure as hell is going to save me now. Our life is no fairytale, it is only darkness.

  It wasn’t until our father passed out in his car and hit a police officer that something was done. To say he was well over the limit was an understatement; he had enough alcohol in his system that a herd of elephants wouldn’t have been big enough to fit it all. How he didn’t die was beyond a joke. I wish he had; would have been easier. Brantley had been gone for four months, four months of me going back and forth between homes. He left me after promising he never would. To say my soul had darkened that day would be an understatement. It’s iced over, never to thaw again.

  “Here we are,—” Miss Harper tells me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I look around at the vacant fields and land that seems to go on forever. Where the fuck am I? I’m in every movie that kills you within the first ten minutes. There’s a barn that looks like it would fall over if a gust of wind even slightly crept near it, and a house that sits dead in the middle that’s no different to any farm-house you’ve ever seen. Big white shutters on the windows and a veranda that wraps around the entire house. A well sits to the side, and a pick-up truck is parked near the barn. Fuck my life. Can’t she just drop me off at a bus station? It would be better to be homeless than getting murdered in the middle of nowhere and chopped into tiny pieces.

  I slowly get out of the car I grit my teeth and wonder why Miss Harper brought me to this house of all places. Just fucking great I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere with no way out.

  I huff as I grab my backpack. Yep that's all I have, a backpack full of my shit. Miss Harper walks toward the porch, going up some stairs. It smells like a farm here. I scrunch my nose up at the god-awful smell.

  I follow behind her, my backpack hanging off my shoulder. I take my time, taking everything in. The door opens once Miss Harper knocks, and there stands a man and a woman staring down at me with smiles. I don’t even lift my lips. They won't be smiling by the end of the week. They’ll send me packing just like the rest.

  “Hey there, you must be Ethan?” The man holds his hand out for me to shake. “I’m Jaxon.” He smiles at me and I give him pity and shake his hand.

  “This.” He wraps his arm around the woman’s waist, smiling down at her. “Is my wife Lacey.” Lacey steps forward, giving me a kiss on the cheek. I step back, feeling awkward. No one has ever done that before.

  “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Ethan,” she says, smiling over at me. I’m nearly taller than her. For twelve years old, I'm one of the tallest boys in my school. Or is she just really short? Well, my old school now, I guess.

  I nod, not smiling at them. I won't give these people anything of me. Why would I when they won't get to know the real me anyway?

  “Come on in.” Jaxon waves us in.

  I follow my social worker in, placing my backpack next to my feet on the sofa. The awkwardness is so thick you could cut it with a knife. There is a small spread out on the coffee table in front of me. I stare at it like it's done me wrong. I have never seen this much food in one place before.

  “Help yourself, Ethan.” Lacey smiles at me.

  Food and I have a weird relationship, mainly because Brantley a
nd I had to fend for ourselves throughout our childhood. The last house I was at, you practically had to beg for food most days. I never gave them satisfaction and went hungry.

  My stomach growls, betraying me. Lacey smiles at me, and she grabs a plate, putting a heap of things together. She places the plate in front of me and pours me a glass of lemonade.

  “Dig in.” She winks at me.

  I shrug and dig in, just like she suggested.

  The pastries are fucking incredible, and soon enough, I'm helping myself to a second plate.

  Jaxon chuckles. “A boy after my own heart. Good to see you have a healthy appetite, boy, Lacey here loves to feed people. I think you’re her dream come true.” They both laugh at his remark.

  I just tip my head in a sort of nod, keeping my gaze on my plate.

  “Oh, there you are, cupcake,” Jaxon says.

  Lifting my head. A young girl, maybe nine or ten, stands there smiling, her hands behind her back.

  “Is this my new brother?” she asks excitedly.

  Jaxon stands, wrapping his arm around the girls shoulders, smiling down at her. “Yes, Luna, this is Ethan, your new brother. Why don't you say hi?”

  He kisses her head, and she makes her way to me. I freeze once she stands in front of me.

  “You look sad,” she says, staring down at me.

  I'm always sad, kid. I want to tell her that, but nothing comes out, of course.

  “Luna?” Lacey states, seeming embarrassed.

  “He does.” She looks back at them, and the next thing, she bends down in front of me and wraps her arms around me. She squeezes me tightly.

  My body freezes, not knowing what to do, so I keep still.

  “Oh, he doesn't like to be touched, dear,” Miss Harper says, almost too softly for Luna to hear.

  She keeps her arms around me, not even paying attention to her. I think Miss Harper forgot Lacey did the same thing when I was at the door. Great, this is a family of huggers.

  “I hope you feel happier.” Luna steps back, running out of the room.

  I’m shocked and confused. That was a long hug. Have I ever had a hug that long before?

  “Ethan,” Miss Harper says almost as if she’s unsure how I'll act.

  I swallow and glance up at all the adults staring at me. I give her a nod. She knows that's my code for ‘all good.’

  Once Miss Harper and the Hawkinses have discussed what happens now, she leaves. Jaxon shows me to my room. I place my backpack on the foot of the bed and take a look round.

  “You can decorate however you like, and we’ll take you shopping tomorrow to get you anything you need,” he tells me.

  I think he sees the confusion on my face. He clears his throat and places his hand on my shoulder.

  “ I hate to imagine what you’ve been through these last four months but I can promise you we will take care of you.”

  I don’t give him anything, just stare blankly ahead. He gives me a small smile and nods, then leaves me standing there.

  “Oh.”

  He stops turning back. “Dinner is at six. Be washed up ready, and bring your appetite. Mrs. Hawkins is cooking a big feast in the wake of your arrival.” He winks then leaves the room that I now call mine. For how long, is the real question.

  I don't play nice with others. I'm angry all the time and would rather be alone than with other people. Guess it’s a benefit of a shitty childhood.

  I pull out the joint I have stashed in my bag. I open the window and smoke it. The calmness seeps through me immediately. This helps take away the pain. I know it's a bad habit to get into, but nothing else takes the pain I feel everyday away. Every time I remember he isn’t here, I want to curl up into a ball and die. I know my thoughts are pretty dark for a twelve-year-old, but when you’ve been through what I’ve been through, darkness is all you see, and trust me. No light will ever get in.

  I smell something coming from Ethan’s room. I don’t know what it is but I know it can’t be good. Does he want to leave, and is he determined for us to hate him? Why does he want hate and not love?

  What happened in Ethan’s life to make him so sad? His scars are deep, that much I can tell. What ever happened must have been bad if he is coming to live in a new home, right?

  I hugged him, not even thinking about it. He looked so sad. I think he needed that hug. He had pain all over his face. It made me sad for him. I had heard the lady say he didn’t like to be touched but I pretended I didn’t hear her.

  I can tell he is a little tortured. Mom and Dad had told me he hasn't had the easiest life and to be as kind to him as I can. I want to help him smile but I have a feeling it isn’t going to be easy to get him to give me one. I feel like he had a lot of healing to do but I want to be the one to bring him out of his shell.

  I pull my diary out from under my pillow and write. I love writing down everything. It feels good to put my feelings down. Mom had given me this for my birthday this year. A thought occurs to me that perhaps it’s been a long time since Ethan received a present.

  Tears build at that thought. I hated how big my heart is sometimes. I cry at the drop of a hat most days.

  Mom calls for dinner after a while, so I run downstairs to wash up, ready.

  Ethan sits across from me, poking his food with his fork.

  “Do you not like meatloaf?” Mom asks him.

  He looks up and shakes his head.

  “No, I think I'm still full from the food before.” He doesn’t even crack a smile.

  His voice sounds like a melody that plays a sweet tune in my head.

  Mom smiles softly at him. “So sorry. I shouldn't have filled you up before dinner.”

  He shrugs not saying anything.

  “So, Ethan.” Daddy gets his attention.

  “We won't get in all your business, but you're still a kid, and we still have rules in this house.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin.

  “Rules.” Ethan’s voice is a little sarcastic.

  “Yes, rules. For example if you have any more weed, you need to pass it over right now. I won't have you smoking that stuff in my home.”

  Weed? Is that what that smell was? I thought I could smell something funny but wasn't sure what it was. Isn’t he a little young to be smoking that stuff?

  Ethan huffs out a breath, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Yeah, for twelve he looks like the older boys at school.

  “That was my last one,” he says matter-of-fact.

  Daddy raises an eyebrow at him.

  “No lies.”

  “Excuse me?” Ethan hunches forward on the table.

  He frowns at Daddy, and I look back and forth between them.

  “That's another rule, no lying in this house.”

  Ethan runs his hands through his blond shaggy hair. He's in need of a haircut, but I feel like he’ll snap at me if I mention it.

  “I’m not lying. In fact, you can check my bag.” Ethan clenches his teeth. He’s looking for a fight. He wants Daddy to fight with him. Is that what he’s used to?

  “I will,” Daddy state's.

  Mom and I stay silent as they exchange looks Ethan isn't backing down. I have a feeling his attitude is one of the reasons he hasn't lasted in many houses, but Daddy works with underprivileged kids so he’s used to this kind of attitude. He always says it's a device mechanism for kids, keeps them tough and not reliant on any one else.

  “Jaxon, please.” Mom finally breaks the stare off.

  Daddy looks at her and smiles.

  “Oh, also.” He eyes Ethan like he’s the source of all evil.

  “Stay away from Luna. You have no business with her.”

  Ethan stares at him, deadpan.

  “What are you trying to say, old man? I'm not into fucking kids, for your information.” He stands abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor. He runs up the stairs, and then the door slams loud, shaking the pictures on the wall.

  I didn’t want to point out he is a kid himself, but maybe his
life has made him older than his age.

  “Jaxon,” my mother says his name in a hushed whisper.

  “Just had to let the boy know. Same goes for you, cupcake, stay away from the boy.”

  “Yes Daddy.” I eat my mashed potatoes.

  Once dinner is finished and I've helped Mom wash the dishes, I take a bowl of ice cream to Ethan. Mother’s request, of course.

  I knock softly, waiting for him to open the door. He doesn't answer, so I knock a little louder this time.

  “What?” His voice echoes through the door.

  I open it slowly. He’s sprawled out on his bed with earphones in and his phone on his chest. Where he got it, I don’t know. I don’t even have a phone-, too young, I was told.

  “Mom told me to bring you this. Thought you’d like some dessert.” I walk toward him and hand him the bowl of ice cream.

  “Geez, thought I didn’t behave enough to get dessert.” He grabs the bowl from my grip.

  I shrug. “Daddy can be a little overbearing, but he means well.”

  He just shrugs and starts eating the ice cream.

  I stand for a bit, waiting for him to say something

  “You can leave now,” he says, not looking at me.

  I sigh and go to leave but I stop at the door and turn. “You know no matter what you do, they won't throw you out. My parents aren't like a lot of foster parents. They won't give up on you.”