INKBORN
INKBORN
By
L. L. LaVell
INKBORN
L. L. LaVell
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by L.L. LaVell
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9781095496787
INKBORN is dedicated to my family and friends.
Thank you all for your help and support.
Special Thanks
Penny “Queen Bratt” B.
&
Cassandra F.
Table of Content
Another Day in Paradise
Saved by the Damned
Your Honor
Breaking out
One Last Breath
Shifting Tides
Northwest
Alleyway
Gateway
Sentence
Settling In
Day One
White Knight
Cold Snap
Helping Hands
A New Day
Eli Moon
Rusted Beds
Shades of Hell
Cannot Follow
Try Again
Before the Strike
Second Wish
Heels
Breaking Point
You Know Why
Tears of color
Caged Bird
Life and Death
See
The Runaway
“Now, the wizard did some spell-like thingy, and poof, we had the first nesting.”
—Daniel Popesbar
Another Day in Paradise
An hour before the sun awoke from its slumber, Natalie sat in the dim basement on a cold, blue metal folding chair, blasting alternative metal, from her cellphone’s portable speaker. She would spend short moments cycling between passion and doubt while staring at the foreign city maps, scenic pictures, and images of mouthwatering pastries plastered haphazardly across the east wall. Wanting to travel and see the world was one of Natalie’s biggest dreams, but the dark, cold basement reminded her of the cruelness of reality.
The basement was her sanctuary from the world, and from life; but most of all, it was her escape from her family, or lack thereof. Even with all the negativity through the hand she was dealt—a broken family, rough high school, and every crappy situation teenagers of her standing have had to deal with—hope remained. The dream of being far off in some distant place was enlightening. Natalie could dream about walking through the lush lands of New Zealand, seeing the breathtaking trees at the Cherry Blossom festival in Japan, eating at a world-renowned restaurant in France, or even opening her own bakery there. Even the wildest fantasy—meeting the perfect tall, handsome man in the most mysterious way and the most unlikely of places, like in the romance books she has hidden under her mattress—was possible down in the basement.
All of a sudden, the door was yanked open, allowing the loud music to blare out. A sigh of disgust escaped Juliet, Natalie’s mother, for the music was unpleasing to her. From the top of the stairs, she screamed, “Natalie! Get ready for school!” Natalie didn’t answer her—the deafening music trumped Juliet's voice. It had been the same every morning of late. Juliet picked up the red plastic ball she kept near the door and tossed it down the stairs. The ball bounced down the steps and rolled past Natalie.
Seeing the ball from her peripheral vision, she rolled her eyes.
“Fine!” she exhaled. Natalie’s voice was dead, her expression stoic.
“And turn down that God-awful music!” Juliet was rigid as she threw the door shut and marched away. She hated what Natalie had changed into over the past few years. Juliet wanted her joyful little girl back.
Natalie chuckled; she had successfully irritated her mother. She briskly walked over to the old dusty dresser pushed against the far back wall to retrieve her cellphone. Natalie pulled the phone free from the dock, took a set of earbuds out of her pajama pants, and plugged them in. Pushing the earbuds into her ears, Natalie changed from her workout playlist to her morning mix; female metal bands soon filled her ears and fueled her senses as she headed upstairs to her room. The empowering vocals always helped her make it through what she knew, was going to be a rough day. Any day at school was a rough day for Natalie.
In her unkempt bedroom, stuffed between the piles of clothing were stacks of horror and Sci-fi books. A messy bed was buried in laundry, knickknacks cluttered every flat surface, and the walls were covered in rock ’n roll posters of bands, old and new alike.
Most of the girls at her school tried too hard to impress others, to be trending, but for Natalie, life was no longer about keeping up with the dollies. She fell hard to the darkness.
After putting on some black, boot-cut jeans, Natalie rummaged through the pile of clean black shirts that lay crumpled up on the floor in the corner near her computer desk. Pulling out shirt after shirt, she looked for one specifically; a black, V-neck shirt with a large white cat skull and crossbones emblazoned across the center.
“Oh, come on. It has to be here.” Halfway through the pile, she found it. “There you are.”
She put it on over her tank top, tucked the shirt into her pants, and added a black belt with studs to the ensemble. She accessorized with leather wrist bands, a black studded choker, chain necklaces, and placed skull dangle earrings in her first piercings and posts in the other six pairs of piercings. Natalie finished the look with low-heeled combat boots over long black and purple striped socks.
Walking into the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself; it was time to put on the mask. Concealer, foundation, contouring, dramatically dark smoky eyes, mascara, and deep maroon-red lipstick. She pulled her long black hair into a fauxhawk—tightly braiding the sides and puffing up the center, with a half a can of hairspray to hold it in place—and glared at the reflection in the mirror, just staring into her own eyes with a dark sense of glee.
Back in her room, she looked around for her backpack.
Crap, where the heck is that damn thing? I just had it last week…
Natalie looked everywhere but could not have even found an elephant in that pigsty. Finally, she glanced toward the only place she had not yet searched: the closet.
That damn closet. Why would it be in there?
Natalie closed her eyes, feeling the dread slowly creep across her body.
Damn it, mother…
Walking over to the closet, she paused before opening the door. She removed her earbuds; it was a tense moment for her, as she took the doorknob into her shaking hand. A gasp of air escaped past her lips as she tried to steel herself for what she was about to do.
You can do this. Just open the door and reach in and grab it. Don’t look…
Flipping up the light switch on the wall next to the door, Natalie carefully edged the door open and automatically looked to the floor. There it was, straight in front of her: the backpack. Reaching down for the bag, it caught her eye; tucked behind an old pair of boots, hidden away from the world was a dreaded reminder of her old life. Natalie froze, keeping her eyes locked on the backpack.
“Don’t look, don’t look… die already!” she said in a whisper that rapidly built to a yell.
Grabbing the backpack and slinging it out of the closet, Natalie quickly stood and slammed the door shut. Trying to take control once more, she stood there, backpack in hand and clos
ed her eyes with a heavy breath. “Let’s go.”
Natalie hated morning encounters with her mother; plucking leg hairs with tweezers was more appealing to her than dealing with Juliet. She crept to the kitchen with haste as Juliet was busy rummaging through the refrigerator near the sliding patio door when Natalie saw it, her chance to sneak by to the pantry. She slowed her steps as she reached the tile floor—any quick footsteps would ring out like a freight train rolling through the room. Natalie slid into the pantry and reached up to her mother’s mega collection of natural bran cereal, then counted five boxes deep, grabbing the sixth box. Opening it up, she pulled out a small bag of brown sugar with only a quarter left in it. Concerned, Natalie looked back out at Juliet, who was still looking for something. Returning the box to its spot, Natalie stealthily moved out of the pantry and over to her bowl of oatmeal that lay waiting on the counter, never hesitating for one moment; she just started pouring the sugar onto the tasteless, fibrous snot.
“Natalie, you don’t need all that sugar. You have to watch your figure!” Juliet backed away from the refrigerator holding half of a grapefruit. “Tell me, where were you hiding it?”
Sard my life.
Natalie sighed; she thought her mother had carb detector or something, because if food had a morsel of unhealthy carbs or was even a little tasty, she could detect it. Juliet thought it all needed to be destroyed.
Natalie added another dash. “Not telling.”
Juliet turned around. “Baby, why do you do this to yourself? You eat wrong; you wear too much of… this,” She waved her hands at Natalie like she was about to perform a magic trick. “Black. And what’s with the hair?”
“Mom, I wish you could find something else to bitch about in the morning other than what I look like.”
With her hands on her hips and holding her tongue, Juliet zoned out. She knew Natalie was trying to push her buttons with the dead tone in her voice and eyes. “Looks are important and so is health. You can’t expect to find a decent guy looking like that. What do you weigh now, a buck sixty?”
Natalie glared at her mother. “Firstly, Miss Malnutrition, my weight is fine. Secondly, I don’t believe in the whole fantasy, love at first sight BS. There’s no such thing as a knight on a mighty steed.”
“Of course not, he would have to be on some devilish beast for you to like him. But if you stop this now, you might find someone out there, a worthwhile man.”
“Yeah, just look at you and dad, right.” Natalie stiffened, she knew she shouldn’t have said that, but there it was. Juliet’s eyes went cold, and her mouth crinkled. Natalie pushed away her half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and marched away out of the open kitchen. She knew she had to leave, or it was going to become a bigger fight, yet again. It seemed to be an everyday occurrence lately.
Juliet snapped. “Don’t walk away from me! What happened to you, where did all this hostility come from? Where is my little princess?”
Natalie turned around. “I killed her and buried her under the enchanted apple tree in the backyard.” Again with the sarcasm, which she knew wasn’t helping. Natalie snatched her backpack off the ground and swiped her car keys off the coffee table. She could hear Juliet draw in a breath to yell, but before she could start braying, Natalie was already out the front door.
* * *
Due to the road construction going on throughout the town, Natalie had to go north to Old Historic Road, towards the ocean, to get to school. Rain trickled down the windshield of her old, faded white ’90s sedan. It was a clunker at best; a gift from both parents for her sixteenth birthday. doors opened, the passenger and back left windows were permanently stuck, the radio only picked up one station, and working A/C and heating was just a pipe dream. To top it all off, the car would only start up some days. Natalie hated the old lemon, but it beat walking.
Irritated by the noise of the windshield wiper blades, swiping across the glass, Natalie turned on the radio. A smirk of joy came to her; it was her mother’s favorite song that was playing. The late ’90s song had played non-stop when Natalie was younger. Juliet always played it on their way to the beach for a picnic. Playing in the waves, collecting seashells; they were beautiful memories, but remembering her parents smiling at each other and being a family was both the happiest and saddest memory she carried around. Struck by sudden nostalgia and sadness, Natalie began to sing, trying to cheer herself up with the sound of her own off-tune voice.
The drive seemed to have been taking a long time, with all the heavy traffic of the morning rush. The traffic stood still at the entrance onto the four-mile-long Overview Bridge at the edge of the town. The bridge was nearly two-hundred feet tall to allow the ships through. Just glancing over at the bridge caused her to feel sick; she was afraid of heights. Relief came to Natalie as the traffic began to move and soon the bridge was out of sight.
Pulling into the parking lot of the high school, Natalie parked in the first free spot she could find—the last row, nearest to the street. Finding a closer spot would be highly unlikely, it was a small parking lot. She sat for a few minutes, readying herself to enter the battlefield. She hated school; it was quite lackluster. The only thing school was to her was an escape from her mother. But then again, at school Natalie had to deal with something almost worse than Juliet: the skank, Britney May, and her gaggle of followers. It was the old, borderline cliché fight of misfit vs. cheerleader.
Natalie knew exactly when the feud had started; it all began when she moved in next door to the school’s future hunk and lead jock, Ty Richman. It was a quick friendship that had built between Ty and herself. Even though Natalie looked like a girly-girl back in the day, she was a total tomboy through and through, playing just as rough as any boy. Ty found it refreshing to have a friend that was not only a girl, but a girl who was a year younger than his other friends and who was tougher than other kids around.
At first, the feud was the typical childish fight, featuring name calling and sticky notes. Then puberty kicked in, and Britney picked up her game: a toilet papered car, graffitied lockers, a gym bag filled with green gelatin, and much more. Though Natalie had gotten her pound of flesh back, she was always the only one who got caught. Unfortunately, without proof of which one of Britney’s hoard was behind the attacks, there could be no reprimand given to her clique. Natalie couldn’t grasp why Britney had it out for her; she was just friends with Ty, that was it. It might have been the fact that Ty did not want anything to do with Britney. Or maybe Brit was just a wench with nothing better to do with her time. It would forever be a mystery to Natalie. The only thing she could do was tough it out until she graduated early the following year.
You are fierce; you fear nothing. You need no help; you need nobody.
Out of her car, Natalie’s stride was strong, radiating an aura of leave me the hell alone. Even though she was suspicious of a possible attack, she knew none of Britney’s goons would attack her straight on: they feared her too much. At the main doors, a group of students that had gathered split, allowing Natalie through.
As she headed down the greasy-yellow painted hallway to the lockers, Natalie took in a deep breath, almost feeling unloved having made it that far without receiving the usual unwanted attention from her number one fan. She hustled to open the locker, not wanting anyone to see the code. Britney-minions were everywhere, and Natalie didn’t want a repeat of last year’s mashed-potato-with-gravy-filled-locker incident.
Squeaking the locker door open barely enough to reach in and grabbed her math book, Natalie wiggled it out and slammed the door shut. With a swift and quick twist of the lock nob—one way then the other—the locker was once again protected. Exhaling her tension, she turned around and waited for a clearing to merge into the crowd and migrated toward her math classroom.
Nearing 8 a.m., the students all waited for their teacher—Mrs. Kerry was always late—and as usual, Natalie’s cheerful mood was flushed away as Britney, and two of her minions walked into the room.
Twidd
le-diddles. Couldn’t the earth have just opened a sinkhole last night and swallowed her up? Thanks, God, for not coming through yet again.
Britney’s makeup looked to have been applied with a trowel: thick foundation; heavy contouring; exuberant pink, smoky eye shadow with glitter; and pink lip balm. She wore a baby pink polo shirt tucked into skintight blue jeans; her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail so tightly; she was giving herself a facelift.
Yep, just another plastic doll rejected by quality control.
“Well, damn it. Looks like the Goth-troll-fairy didn’t come and collect its inbred offspring last night. Sorry, Natalie, maybe tonight they’ll come for you and take you home,” Britney jeered, stopping right at front righthand corner of Natalie’s desk.
Natalie didn’t acknowledge her; she kept her gaze forward to the board.
“Hey!” Britney kicked at Natalie’s shin as the minions stood behind her chuckling at her action. Britney glanced back at them and chuckled along.
Natalie bristled and glared at Britney as she hid her left fist at her side, afraid of getting in trouble.
“That’s enough,” Ty ordered as he stepped around the others and in behind Britney.
Britney startled by his voice, and turned around. “Ty!” Her voice was high and bubbly; she was twitterpated by the sight of him.
A smile snuck across Natalie’s face, for she was happy to see Ty; his timing was impeccable.
He gave Brit a lackluster glare.
Natalie thought it was quite disturbing, watching Britney play with her hair as she pranced in place. It gave her a gaggy feeling.
“Go on,” Ty commanded, as he pointed at her seat.
“Oh, okay,” Britney replied in an even higher pitch, like a dog whistle. She looked back to Natalie and sneered. “Clinker.”
Natalie didn’t flinch at the insult, not wanting to give Britney any satisfaction.