Enmity Awakened by D.R. Racey

Enmity Awakened by D.R. Racey
Coming Soon!

(Contains some profanity)

Prologue

I had always heard that right before you die, that you saw your life flash before your eyes. Since I was only nineteen, I did not have much to flash in front of my eyes, but it was enough to make most people break down and contemplate how good or bad their life had really been. I wonder how many girls had been kicked out of boarding school, beaten by their father, raped by their boyfriend, and murdered in an alley all before they turned nineteen. I guess you could say that most of my short life had truly sucked. This was a fitting end to a shitty childhood.

*****

At the tender age of fourteen, Dad sits me down and tells me that there were going to be some changes. It seems there is a good school for teenagers in upstate New York and I was going to get to spend the next four years there. Do not let me mislead you though. Mom and Dad were staying in Queens. Only I was moving.

So, Dad loads me and a couple suitcases into the car and we head down the road. Mom would have come too, but she had been drinking the night before and could not make the trip.

Dad drops me off and the headmistress rushes me in to a dormitory and shows me where my room is. I end up going to some initiation meeting later that day in the gymnasium with all the other new kids. They kept telling us about rules and penalties. What we could do and what we couldn’t do. I sat there in silence as they rambled on and on with all these rules. By the time we were done, I couldn’t give a damn about rules.

I spent the next two years of my life in that place with four hundred other girls. I mean, I did get to go home for holidays and Queens was my sanctuary during the summer. Not that it mattered though, since my mom and dad were never at home anyway.
My dad always told me that he sent me there for my own good. He said they could teach me about being a proper woman and how to be successful in the business world.

It is not as if I was dumb though. I figured it out when I was ten that my mom wasn’t punching herself in the face. Did that mean that I wouldn’t get my face smashed in by my husband because I was smart?

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my dad. He just wasnt what you would call a “knight in shining armor”. Guess it just goes to show that sometimes the money is worth it. I can’t blame my mom though. What kind of job could she get after drinking and partying for the past fifteen years?

Back to those rules I was talking about. I started my junior year at the boarding school and finished it almost as quick. Another girl started a fight with me, on my sixteenth birthday nonetheless. Ok, maybe I started it. Situations like these are always hard to keep track of, but I am still going to say that bitch started it. I was dropping fists like I was a street fighter, and this girl couldn’t do anything about it except lay there and take it.

This teacher who I hated anyway, tries pulling me off of the girl from behind. She had my hair in her hands, so I figured it was another girl trying to help her friend get an upper hand. I turned swinging and some of my hair pulled loose in her hand. My fist slammed into the teacher’s face like a sledgehammer hitting a grapefruit and a shower of blood poured out. Her blood covered the floor and sprayed out on top of the girl whose ass I had already beaten.

I could feel the anger in the headmistresses’ eyes when they drug me into her office kicking and screaming. They really do frown on beating another girl’s ass then breaking a teacher’s nose. I was lucky that she did not suspend me from school. That saving grace of an angel expelled me instead and told my dad never to bring me back on school grounds. Let’s just say he wasn't too freaking happy about the entire incident. I was not going to complain about being expelled though. Well, not yet anyways.

I did not have a mark on me from that fight, but I had a dozen bruises my dad gave to me. He beat my ass so bad that I thought he meant to kill me. I had to believe that he had a good reason why he reacted to stress like he did.

Dad accepted the fact that I couldn’t go back to the boarding school and enrolled my ass in public school instead. I mean really. You home school me until I am fourteen, then throw me in a school for girls for two years. Now I get in trouble one time and you send me to public school? Give me a break asshole.

Have a happy sixteenth birthday Cassandra. Good riddance anyway. I was tired of those stuck-up bitches calling me Cassie. It wasn’t my name, and I didn’t like it.

My first day of public school was a bit different for me. I was used to orderly lines flowing down the hallways between classes, but this place was a mad house. Kids rushed back and forth between classes. Other kids smoked in the restrooms, and flushed the occasional firecracker down the toilet. A group of guys, that definitely looked too old for high school, were selling drugs in the hallway. This is what society has come to in two thousand years of evolution?

Classes during my junior year were easy and I tried to stay out of trouble since I remembered the beating my dad gave me. He was a real prick, but I am sure he taught me a lesson in there somewhere. I still hadn’t figured out what he was teaching my mom though.

*****

I was pumped by the time the Junior/Senior Prom rolled around. Paul Anderson, the captain of the football team, asked me to go to prom with him. I was excited that I was going with one of the most popular boys in the school. He had to play the formalities though, so I invited him over to meet my dad. Dad took a liking to the kid right away. I guess he saw something in his eyes that showed that he might have a future. I didn’t know it then, but this kid’s future was limited.

Prom went off without a hitch and we headed to the after party. I convinced my dad to let me sleep over at Cindy’s house instead of coming home after prom. It took a bit of doing, but he finally gave in.

I left the prom with Paul and we headed to a small hotel on Long Island. There were probably ten couples partying in the room and most of the girls were still in their prom dresses. The boys had paid a friend to stock the hotel with alcohol earlier in the evening and there wasn’t a single person there who was sober.

By two in the morning, most of the kids had left to go home. The only ones left were Paul, two of his friends, and me. I don’t even think the other two guys went to the prom that night. If they did, then their dates had gone home instead of coming to the hotel. By this point, I was totally drunk and had trouble standing on my own. My eyes kept shifting in and out of focus as I tried to stay awake.
Paul came up to me while I was sitting on the bed and started kissing me. I tried to push him back, but he kept moving in closer. He pushed me back on the bed and kept kissing me as his hands roamed over my body. Why fight it right?

Before I knew what was happening, he was on top of me while I was blankly staring at the slow moving ceiling fan. So much for making my first time special. By the time I passed out, from the alcohol and whatever else they put in my drink, the other two guys both had a turn at me. When I woke up the next morning, I was still in my prom dress, panties missing, and all three boys were gone.
I spent the next hour sitting down in the shower with the hot water running over me. Paul had torn my heart to pieces, as I truly believed he liked me. It made it even worse that he let his friends join in.

I probably would have stayed in the shower longer but the room door opened and a Latino woman came in. She politely excused herself when she looked in the bathroom and saw me huddled on the floor of the shower. She didn’t even bother to ask if something was wrong. What kind of person doesn’t ask if something is wrong when they find a teenage girl curled up on the floor of the shower?

Thirty minutes later, I left the room and headed for the subway. It was going to be a long ride back to Queens in my prom dress. I had to hope that Cindy didn’t call my house looking for me before I got home.

It took me three trains to get back to within a few blocks of my house. I got some strange looks from a lot of people on those three trains.

My dad was sitting in the living room when I walked in the house. He set the newspaper down and asked me where I have been. I tried to tell him that I was at Cindy’s house and he graciously explained to me that he had talked to her an hour ago. It seems that Cindy’s mom had explained to him that she had not seen me all night. I guess my alibi was shot all to hell.

So, Dad orders me to my room, and I can hear him walking up the steps a few minutes later. He was a big man, so the steps creaked as he placed his weight on them. I heard the door handle turn and in he walked with his belt pulled from his trousers. I mean really, I am almost seventeen and you are going to spank me? I guess spank is a bad way to put it. He beat my ass and left me lying on the bed. Your daughter gets raped by three guys, and you just beat her. Well, unless I tell him, he probably was not going to know what happened the night before. I decided then and there that I was not going to tell him or anyone else the details about the party.

I let things go as they were. Blood and tears soaked the white satin sheets of my bed as I lay there. It would have probably been all right if he used the belt to smack my ass, but it just didn’t seem fair when he wrapped the belt around his hand like a glove.

Prom was finally over, I wasn’t a virgin anymore, and my ribs and face were bruised. Thanks Daddy, I love you too. At least I can only blame my dad for the bruises.

I spent the better part of the next two days in my bed. Dad had gone off to work shortly after beating my ass and had not returned since. Mom, I am assuming was drunk the entire weekend since she did not come into my room once. The quiet gave me plenty of time to think. Boy did I do some thinking.

*****

Paul was waiting for me at my locker when I got to school Monday morning. It seems that he didn’t remember raping me early Saturday morning, or he wasn't going to bring it up. I will blame it on the latter. Sorry prick of a boyfriend he made.

Something about small talk, in light of what he did to me, was just not interesting. He blocked me when I tried to leave my locker and go to my first class. Paul had a way with words and made sure I knew to keep my mouth shut. The words still ring clearly in my mind today, just as they did when he first said them. “If you say a word then I’ll kill you and your mom.”

I guess I shouldn’t have believed him. What kind of pull does an eighteen-year-old boy have in the ways of the world? I politely told him to “fuck off” and pushed past him as I went to class.

Even after his threat, I still refused to tell anyone about that night. It was not because of what he said though. It was because I was ashamed and embarrassed. One day I will get over those feelings that young women tend to bottle up. I let the thoughts simmer in my head and I thought about someone killing Paul for what he did. The fantasies of him getting his due brought me a little pleasure, even if it didn’t take the pain away.

I finished the rest of high school without any major issues. My dad still had a temper and beat my ass on occasion. The bruises on my face made me miss a few days of school, but other than that, I managed to get by. Graduation was the culmination of my childhood years. I wasn’t so certain that I didn’t want to be a child any more.

Considering I had little else to do, I went to college and lived at home. My favorite class was a self-defense elective. I so enjoyed that class as I pretended that I was hitting my dad or Paul every time I punched the practice bag. It was a sad excuse for trying to get even with them, but it did help release some pent-up frustrations.

Dad was still up to his old tricks. He kept my mom drunk and had her out on the town every night. His stress levels seemed higher than they used to be and he spent even less time at the house than he had when I was growing up. I overheard him arguing with someone on the phone one night; his voice seemed as if he was scared. It wasn’t long before he started carrying a concealed gun with him every place he went.

Summer time came and he made me an intern at his company, DynaSys, while I was out of school for the summer. I finally found out what my dad did, and it was kind of enlightening. His business made experimental weapons, and from the amount of money he made, I guess he did pretty well. His research and development program just blew my mind. The facility had to be the size of a football field and was filled with all sorts of weapons. I had to get a special card just to get access to the room. Rows and rows of guns, rockets, and other weapons filled the entire place. One of the researchers had developed a whip that had electrodes running through the cord. The whip was bad-ass, but Dad said it would never get picked up for production because it was impractical for modern warfare. I guess it would be alright if you where hitting a bull with it, but animal rights activists would probably through a fit.

I developed a little bit of respect for my dad working for him during the summer. He was still a prick for beating my mom’s ass and mine, but he was a successful prick.

Summer ended and I started my sophomore year in college. I enjoyed my internship with my dad so much that I continued working for him in the evenings as a way to make a little bit of my own money. It sucked always having to rely on Dad for every bit of money I had, even if he was rich, so getting paid to work was better in my mind.

I turned nineteen and spent my birthday in the research and development facility. The facility had its own indoor range and I used it a lot while testing weapons and learning how to shoot. I had become a fairly decent shot with a pistol and was not half bad with a crossbow either. That whip that just sat on the table was my favorite though. I can’t even count how many times I cut myself with the tip as I was practicing on the walls of the building. It didn’t help that the whip had an electric current running through it. I remember getting it wrapped around my leg once and falling to the floor as I was electrocuting myself. Luckily, someone saw me on the floor and ran up to turn the current off.

*****

One night, a group of three men broke into our house and tied my mom and dad up in his office. I was taking a nap in my room and woke up when I heard them screaming. They were yelling at my dad about a rifle he was working on. I knew what they were talking about and knew why they wanted it. The rifle did not with a traditional powder cartridge; it fired by sound. He told me the round could penetrate up to eighteen inches of concrete or six inches of steel, but he never let me see it in action.

In the end, I ran into the room as the man with the pistol in his hand fired four rounds into my mom’s chest then turned on my dad and put two bullets in his head. My gasp was what gave me away. The men turned on me and I heard gunfire as I ducked around the door.

I ran like hell for the back of the house and made it to the back door. It was locked, but I got it open and made it into the alley. It was evident from the yelling, that they were closing in on me and would catch me within a few moments. The rain was getting into my eyes, but I didn’t slow down. I kept my pace when I made it to the crossroad and continued across to the next alley. Before I made it to the next street, they caught me.

The man grabbed me by the back of the hair and pulled hard. My feet left the ground and I slammed onto the ground. I guess if it was daylight, they might have picked a better place to kill me, but no one was going to see anything in the alley at this time of night.
The three men kicked me in the ribs and the face. If I had not run, then maybe I would have gotten a quick death like my parents. They were going to make me pay for making them chase me down though. It seemed like an eternity while they beat the life from me; Dad never beat me this bad.

In the end, I saw the man with the gun standing over me. My vision was blurry and I could not make out his face. Not like it mattered though. He was going to put a few holes in me on top of the broken bones. My chest hurt as I tried to breath with the broken ribs, but the pain increased a hundred times when the cold steel penetrated into my chest. He fired the gun three times and probably would have fired more if the slide had not latched to the rear.

The three men talked for a minute, then ran down the alley in the rain. Who knows where they went? Who cares where they went? I was lying in the alley with the heavens pissing on me and was all but dead. Soon enough I would join my mom and dad in whatever kind of afterlife I was destined to spend eternity in.

I lived a tragic life in my nineteen years. I’m just glad it is finally over. Fuck this sorry ass world we live in.

 

I hope you enjoyed the prologue for Enmity Awakened, due out by Summer of 2013.

D.R. Racey author page on Amazon
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