Blood Betrayal

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'Sometimes Blood isn't thicker than water and family will cross you quicker than strangers' Raelynn Jennings, years of abuse finally added up. It finally grew to the point that her mother couldn't handle the pain anymore. Couldn't handle the looks, the rumors, the whispers. In a desperate attempt to run from the past she uproots the family, moving to Nebraska. Why? Why is it so important that they get away from California, to move to Nebraska? Ryker Manning, a country boy. Simple as that, nothing fancy. All that changes when he sees a pretty Cali girl, in a new world. And he's happy to show her around, welcome her. What happens when a past that he doesn't know about calls her? Calls her back, for one last hit. Will he be able to be the savior she so desperately needs?

Lillianne Young
5.0 2 reviews
Age Rating:


“Why would I lie about this mom?!” I shout at my mother, tears streaming down my face. The look of shock still stands, frozen on her features. She repeats herself, still trying to process the huge bomb that I dropped on her.

“No, he would never do something like that.” Her hands shake even as she attempts to refuse what she hears. I watch as she sits slowly, trying to gain some kind of composure.

It is futile as far as I’m concerned, you aren’t faced with this kind of truth everyday. Angrily wiping at my tears, I sob harder trying to get her to understand - to listen to me.

“I’m not making this up! Just look at them!” Yanking my shirt up I shake, exposing the horrific bruises once more, her eyes travel the expanse of each one. Garnering fresh tears even as a slight whimper falls from her lips.

She still doesn’t want to believe that he would do something like this. Hot tears cascade down my cheeks in burning trails of betrayal, heartbreak, and shame. Her hands cover her mouth, softly shaking her head once more, trying to deny the harsh reality that has fallen to her.

“He couldn’t have. He loves you.” Voice cracking, my mother tries to assure herself, I see it failing. The signs she has ignored for years finally rearing their ugly heads up with a need to be seen. To be understood and acknowledged.

She failed to recognize them in their innocence and now they’ve come back with a vengeance that will haunt us forever. Pushing us further apart than any distance could; time will be the only thing to sooth the wounds. My frustration builds even as I stress to her, pleading with her to understand and listen to me.

“Mom, please listen to me. I’m not lying to you, why would I?” I’m the one left whimpering, my soul shattering, the shards cutting me deeper. The bruises that have painted my skin with ugliness, can’t compare to the ugliness that I feel.

The attack leaves me feeling like I’m a scared little girl, already broken from the harsh cards that I have been dealt. Crying out, pain radiates from my core, sounding like a call from an injured animal. Turning I run from the room sobbing in earnest.

My feet pound up the stairs, telling the world of my pain. Tears continue to stain my cheeks, no matter how much I wipe them away they always seem to come back. Moving faster, and stronger like some kind of persistent storm that refuses to break to the will of buildings.

Slamming my bedroom door for some kind of dramatic finale to the conversation of nightmares. My bottled up emotions finally seem to steep over the edge, releasing in some kind of confused downpour. Gripping my head I feel my lungs burn as I panted out, my breathing creates this strange and uncomfortable rhythm.

Why can’t my mother just accept it? My legs carry me, pacing across the cool hardwood floor. Closing my eyes I stand in the center of my room my emotions clawing at my mind. Spinning I want to jump onto my bed, and scream into my bedding like some child having a temper tantrum.

My eyes seem to fix themselves to an old picture of a happy little girl - of me to be exact. A pretty floral church dress, black flats and a bow in my caramel brown hair. My bright blue eyes shone with happiness. A family photo of happy memories only manages to stir terror and anger deep within.

Storming forward my hands reach for the picture frame boasting of the happy family church picnic. My tears seem to stream down my face like torrential rain, I launch the frame as far as I can feel my sadness, anger, and fear overwhelm me of the new monster that stares back.

I start to wheeze as my lungs refuse to draw in air, my fear only rises more. Shaking I crawl onto my bed, just wanting to hide from the world. My pillow grows wet as I fight for my breath. Wallowing in my own misery seems to be the only reprieve my body will allow for my mind.

Curling my legs into my chest, trying to hide like a little child. A young girl shouldn’t feel this way, a young boy shouldn’t feel this way. Why is it happening? Why does it feel like my world is crumbling around me?

The pain that beats from my heart seems to leak into my blood making me feel more tainted and hurt. No physical pain could come close to matching what I feel now. My door creaks open, with a sniffle I bury my face into my pillow.

I refuse to acknowledge her, my face burns with some emotion. My emotions have become so jumbled it’s impossible to decipher them. I don’t understand it, it feels like she has failed me, the actions of a monster already working to tear us apart.

The amount of pain that settles in my belly makes me cry harder. My soul seems to be crying the hardest, the monster that is tearing my family apart was part of it. We share the same blood, and yet their blood is so tainted with evil they can’t restrain their twisted desires.

That’s what hurts the most, the fact that a family member could do this to me? I grew up with them, they loved me, yet they hurt me? Hiccuping I whimper feeling the little air in my lungs get knocked out from me, startling me more.

The bed shifts, my mother lays down, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me close. No words are spoken at first, both of us being affected by the actions of a man with tainted blood. “We’ll get through it.” My mother whispers, her voice broken, much like my soul.

Her hurt comes from association with the monster, nothing like actual injury. Turning I grab onto her, trying to feel some kind of safety from the embrace.

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