Untitled: A Reverse Harem PNR

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Cursed as a victim in a fight she played no part in, Blakely has been living half a life. Forced into a bleak living situation after her mothers betrayal, she has been fighting to survive despite her disabilities brought on by the botched curse. Blakely alternates between being blind, deaf, without the sense of touch, smell or taste, never knowing which of the five senses she will be without before they fail her. Just three more months until she can begin a new chapter in life, but will she survive that long in this hell? If she can hold on long enough to be saved, will she ever learn to trust her saviors? Will she ever truly be free of her past? This is a reverse harem paranormal romance involving witches, shifters, vampires and more. Blakely and her guys end up at an academy so if that trope is not something you are interested in, please skip this one! Trigger warnings for abuse, both physical and mental, explicit sexual scenes and lots of cursing, the witchy kind and the sailor kind ;)

Romance / Fantasy
5.0 1 review
Age Rating:

Chapter 1: Blakely

I’m floating in the darkness again. I hear nothing and everything at the same time which is often the case when my site is gone. Everything is loud and meaningless. An endless chorus of bullshit that doesn’t penetrate my haze. I’m used to the darkness. I wouldn’t call it a friend. Lord knows I don’t have any of those. But it’s the only constant in my life.

Even my mother didn’t stay. Too weak to stick around and face the reminder of the pain she caused. The guilt of what her mistakes cost me were too much for her to bear so she split. Which in my opinion is fucking bullshit. A cop out if I’ve ever seen one. Why does she get to run away from MY pain when I can’t? Why am I stuck in this fucking place, fending off danger at every turn?

You see, before I turned five, I was a normal girl. Or at least as normal as a half-witch can be in a society that prides itself on purity. My mom was a full witch that fell in love with a human and was shunned for it. After my Dad died, mom tried to win her way back into the good graces of society by sleeping with a powerful Mage from a high family. Unfortunately, his mate didn’t think that was cool and decided to make her suffer by cursing her only daughter to lose the ability to interact with the world. The curse called for its victim to lose sight, sound, touch, taste and smell. To truly isolate its victim in a fate worse than death. Lucky for me, she went wrong somewhere in her immense anger, cursing me to a life of only having access to four of the five senses at any time instead of taking them all away completely.

Why she had to curse an innocent five-year-old instead of the Trollope that fucked her man, I may never know. I’ve been living with this shit for almost thirteen years and still find myself subjected to random changes. One minute I’ll be deaf, reading a book and ignoring the world, and the next my hearing will pop back in just before my sight alludes me, forcing me to change to the few books written in brail that I’ve picked up over the years.

Being in this hell hole, I have to hide my possessions and be super careful not to let anyone see me enjoying them too much. My foster brother Patton, aka the devil, and the patriarch of the house Lucian Demarksin, aka whatever’s worse than the devil, make it a game to see who can make my life suck more. In our community it is against the law to discriminate against someone because they are a half-breed, so people like to use my disability as a reason to torture me. Because that’s humane.

Supes do not like to be seen as weak. Most disabilities can be detected in the womb with our advanced technologies and healers, and they are rather corrected, or the pregnancy is terminated. Supes who are disabled later in life due to physical injury or mental instability, often take their own lives as to not dishonor their families or because they cannot face the bullying from peers. Lucky for me, my mother wouldn’t know honor if it slapped her in the face, but the one thing she did teach me through her cruelty is how to withstand the torture and keep a thick skin.

I have plans to leave this place. If I can just survive the last three months of high school, then I may finally find some peace. Being a foster child makes me a ward of the council and no better than a slave to the patriarch of my household. Unlike the human system, supe fosters don’t just age out. All wards must complete a mandatory five years in an indentured service job of the council’s choice after graduating high school to earn back their freedom and the right to be a real member of society.

In all honesty I am terrified of what job I will be placed in due to the nature of my curse, but I have no choice. I won’t survive another year here. The abuse, both physical and emotional, has gotten so bad that sometimes I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. The only thing that has kept me going this long is my hate for these men. I would rather end my own life than let either of them have the satisfaction. Patton grows bolder every day and I’m afraid that this is the calm before the storm. Ever since I grew tits last year, he’s become more obsessed with me. When we were younger, he used to enjoy causing me pain for the praise it gained him from Lucian, but I can see it in the hungry way he stares at me now, that he grew to truly love it. He gets off on it.

That’s why I often find myself here. Tucked into the small reading nook I created in the attic a couple years back. After a particularly rough day of Patton torturing me at school during sophomore year, I ran home and scoured the house for a hiding spot where he couldn’t find me. I just needed a small break. Even just one hour to collect myself and lick my wounds before I had to face him or Lucian again. I found the holy grail in the ceiling of my closet when I was just about to give up. The nearly invisible entrance to the attic has a fold down ladder that makes it easy to climb and nearly silent hinges that I keep well-greased. This is my safe haven and I won’t risk losing it over lack of WD-40.

Secluded in the back corner of the unused, dusty space, I lie back in my scavenged old quilt and listen to the sounds of Patton destroying my room in a rage because I wasn’t readily available for him to torture when the mood arose. He does this every time I elude him. I elude him every time my sight eludes me. I try to face him head-on when I can because using my hiding place too often is too risky. I can’t lose this place. But dealing with his torture when I’m blind is by far the worst. The darkness conceals his next moves and amplifies the slimy feel of his hands on me. The pain is always worse, more shocking and vivid when I don’t see it coming. I’ll lie here as still as I can and listen for the chaos to fade before I make my way down. Sometimes I get lucky and he goes out to drink and get high with his friends, giving me a night off from the bullshit. Tonight doesn’t sound like one of those nights.

I heard a rumor going around school today that his favorite fuckbuddy got a boyfriend and broke things off with him when she decided to give monogamy a go. Self entitled twat that he is, being told no has thrown him into a tantrum of epic proportions and I pray to whoever is listening to let my hidey hole stay hidden. After a tense hour of listening to the chaos swirl through the darkness I curl up on my side and drift off into a dreamless sleep.

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