Hyde, Book Three of the Devil's Roses

  Hyde

  Book Three of the Devil's Roses

  A novel

  By

  Tara Brown

  Copyright 2012 Tara Brown

  http://TaraBrown22.blogspot.com/

  Smashwords Edition

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  or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Edited by Nick J

  Other books by Tara Brown

  Cursed-Book One the Devil's Roses

  Bane-Book Three the Devil's Roses

  Hanna

  Chapter One: A promise is a promise

  She looked at her surroundings confused, her body trembled as if she was cold but her skin burned. Her breath felt as if it left her face only to rebound on something. The darkness around her should have comforted her. She had always felt safer in the dark it was easier to hide in, instead she felt lost in space. Something was moving her. She put an aching hand out to find how far the wall was from her but her hand was stopped within inches. The wall was a carpet of sorts. She felt a rumbling beneath her and looked up, she was in the trunk of a moving car.

  As with most people who do not enjoy small places, the diminutive space shrunk around her as she panicked. Suddenly it was as if she were Alice and had eaten the cake to make her grow instantly, filling up the trunk. She felt her bitter shivers increase as she panicked and blood left her extremities. She closed her eyes and decided to focus on the other obvious problem she was being faced with instead of falling victim to a panic attack.

  She moved her hands over her aching body feeling her clothes torn, shredded almost. She could feel the tattered ends of her shirt hanging open. She flexed her muscles that felt tender but not wounded. She closed her eyes trying to recall the last thing she could but her thoughts seemed stuck, as if the gears in her mind required oiling. Everything was hazy except her heartbeat, which pounded fierce enough that she could feel it in her socks. Scratch that, tattered socks. Her toes dangled from the ends of them.

  “I’ve been raped.”

  The statement rolled off her lips as a subtle whisper but it felt as if it weighed a ton once it hung in the air around her. Abruptly, as if sent on a twisted path beyond her control, her mind thought about the recent summer still fresh and warm on her skin. She thought about how she’d dated Jimmy Stratton, who had waited eight months for them to lose their virginity together. It had happened on a hot August afternoon, lazily by a river near his parent's house. She remembered how it felt, not great considering the effort that went into making it a perfect experience, but also how violated she had felt afterward.

  That feeling of violation was suddenly fresh in her mind. She felt the tears slipping silently down her cheeks, how had this happened? Where had she been? She pushed her mind flexing it as she had with her muscles, desperate to recall something. Her memories were going back days not hours.

  It didn’t matter what she could remember, she knew that girls who woke up in trunks sore and exhausted with clothes ripped to shit had been kidnapped and raped. There was also a real possibility of torture. She thought about the pain involved in torture and decided instantly, cringing with disgust, she would be a good girl. She would do whatever her cruel attacker wanted, she wanted to live. She planned it out in her mind as the car rumbled along the road, she would live through this.

  Then she would recover from her PTSD by becoming a nun or a monk. She puzzled over whether girls could be monks, swearing she had seen something about female monks.

  Her thoughts slowed along with the tires of the car, stopping altogether as it did. She felt panicked and decided fake sleeping might buy her a little time. It would at least get her a few answers as most were less guarded around sleeping people.

  She felt her body relax as she pretended to be unconscious but her muscles refused to play along, they twitched wanting to come to life and fight for her freedom. She knew she would never get back the memories and with the state of her clothing she didn’t truly care if she ever got them back. What terrified her was the possibility of making any new memories with her attacker.

  She heard the car go into park.

  She heard the parking brake.

  The keys pulled from the starter.

  Driver door opened.

  Feet crunch down on the gravel, soft gravel.

  Door closed.

  Feet crunching closer to the trunk.

  Feet stopped outside the trunk.

  Breath of the stranger.

  Keys sliding into the lock.

  Cold night air rushed into the trunk as the latch opened. She fought with her eyes forcing them to remain closed. Desperately they struggled against her to see him, who was he? She thought about the possibilities, janitors or construction workers, fellow grads, teachers. Realistically it could be anyone.

  “I see you're holding your breath, I know you’re not sleeping and honestly I don’t want to carry you anymore.” The voice was old, she could tell. Old and English. Continuing to hold her breath she thought long and hard but came up blank. She didn’t know anyone matching that description.

  He didn’t touch her or bend down to her. He wasn’t threatening her. He just stood there. She waited ten more seconds and opened one eye very slowly.

  He was incredibly old, she paused for a moment focusing on him, “You? You raped me?” The words crept from her mouth.

  He jumped back startled, “My word, I most definitely did nothing of the sort.” His cheeks flushed as he stammered, “I-I only rescued y-you.”

  He looked truly offended. Hanna looked down at her ripped clothing looking confused, “You found me like this?”

  He nodded holding a hand out to her.

  Before taking his hand she stopped and thought for a moment, “You found me like this and decided to put me in your trunk instead of taking me to a hospital. I need a rape kit done. You’re going to have to answer to the authorities.”

  He frowned looking confused, “Miss Hanna, no one has harmed you.” He tilted his head off to the side, “You did this to yourself. I put you in the trunk to protect myself.”

  Her eyes widened as did her mouth wanting to speak but instead her jaw remained open in confusion.

  She shook her head, “I don’t understand.”

  He pulled a dark green fleecy blanket from the trunk near her feet. He reached in very slowly and held it up for her, “Please come inside and your father will explain everything.”

  She looked at the warm blanket and the very old man holding it. She looked, realizing she had been to the courtyard surrounding her. She knew where she was.

  “I hurt myself?” Still hazy she asked softly.

  He nodded raising his eyebrows, “Your answers are inside.”

  She looked to her right at the large manor house her father had recently brought her to. She had loved it, making small fantasies in her mind about growing up there. She imagined a childhood in the old Tudor home with a tire swing out back. She imagined her father hugging her and letting her into his life. It could have been their home if he had let it. She closed herself off from the imaginations of a hopeful lost little girl. Instead she welcomed back the snarky comments of a bitter and twisted young woman. She climbed from the trunk on shaky legs taking his weathered soft hand and allowed him to cover her mostly naked body in the warm fleecy blanket. She wrapped herself completely a
nd winced. Walking on the gravel hurt her feet. She stepped gingerly, trying to find the path of least resistance.

  “Who are you?” She asked not looking back at him, still nervous enough to not want a silence surrounding them.

  “I am your family's man.”

  She played with the words in her mind. The word 'man' struck her as odd. She had questions but decided they should wait for her father.

  The front of the huge home was a magnificent wooden double door with carvings of an old forest scene. The handles were golden colored, although she wouldn’t be surprised if they truly were gold. Her father was odd in a way only rich people were allowed to be. Gold door handles would be one of the lesser weird moments for her.

  The older man opened the door standing rigidly waiting for her to enter. She walked through the threshold slowly, still worried about how she had landed in a trunk with nearly nothing on.

  She followed beside him, silently along the hard stone floors. Her father had a thing for granite. She followed him to a back room she had not seen before. Inside was a four-poster bed with extravagances all around it. The furniture was dark cherry wood, suiting the Tudor home perfectly.

  She looked at the figure on the huge bed, squinting to see his face in the muted lighting.

  A weak looking discolored individual she had never seen before lay on the huge bed. Suddenly she realized it was her father. The sickly looking version of him had replaced the robust handsome man.

  “Father?”

  He turned his eyes to her, looking further disheartened, “Hanna, oh thank god you found her Roland.” He spoke breathlessly. It was as if he struggled to breath.

  “I did Sir and I will leave you two now unless you need something further?”

  Her father waved a sickly looking thin hand, “No please go and rest old man.”

  Roland chuckled bitterly, “Old am I? Then you Sir are ancient.” He bowed and left the room silently.

  Hanna walked to her father and sat in the huge wooden rocking chair at his bedside. She felt concern cross her face and struggled to look as if she didn’t care.

  His dark eyes glossed over, “I-I-I am s-s-so s-s-sorry Hanna.” His wrinkled face trembled. She noticed how much he had aged in the few short months since her last visit.

  He smiled weakly, looking humble and cleared his throat. He seemed to be fighting himself to gain his composure.

  “I have betrayed you in every way.”

  She frowned not speaking, terrified to ruin a moment she had waited her whole life for.

  “I don’t even have enough time now to explain the entirety of the situation to you.” His voice grew grainy. He cleared his throat again.

  "How are you this sick?" She couldn’t believe how old and haggard he looked.

  “I am a monster, there is no denying it. You were an accident, as was your mother. Both accidents along the highway of my life and instead of stopping to help, I left you there stranded. I never knew how to fix any of it. I've tried to find a cure Hanna, I really have.” His eyes watered, Hanna watched as he began to cry. She felt distraught, not only for being called an accident but that he had waited until his last moments to reach out to her. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t told her was ill.

  “I left you with them as your mother asked me to. She thought she knew them, we both thought we knew them. Now I see, I see what they are. Of course now it is too late.” He coughed as if the liquid making his voice grainy were drowning him inside, “You’ll need this, it's your only hope.” He passed her a sheet of paper with markings across it. It looked like math and diagrams. She frowned wondering if he had seen her final grades, or how bad she had done.

  His hand gripped hers as his eyes changed into a madman's, he gasped, “Trust no one but Roland, he has been with me for a long time. You need to get away from those people, your aunt and uncle. I have loved you always.” He exhaled softly and closed his eyes. “Tell her to come in.”

  Hanna frowned, “Who?”

  “The girl in the hall, I’m ready.”

  She hesitantly rose, “I don’t understand, you’re speaking cryptically to me, you’re not explaining anything and I’m scared, I'm half naked.” She sighed realizing she was shouting, “I just don’t understand what is happening. I can't believe I'm standing in front of you with my clothes all ripped and all you can talk about is yourself. Nothing changes with you. ”

  He shook his head still closing his eyes, shutting her out, “I don’t have any time left Hanna. She is being gracious allowing me a moment with you.” His eyes opened filled with regret, “I only wanted you to know that Roland is your only hope and that I loved you everyday. Everything else will be explained when I am gone. Your life is going to change Hanna and for that I am truly sorry. Please hurry I can't hold it.” The desperation in his voice frightened her.

  She ripped her hand from him, “I don’t get any of this and by the way I know you never loved me. You left me when I was eight, with relatives you hated. You barely came to see me. You've always made me feel as if I were an inconvenience.” Her eyes burned, “That is not love father.”

  She stormed away, ignoring her aching body and opened the door. Stopping suddenly she saw a tall beautiful girl with dark blond wavy hair and grey eyes standing in the hall. She wore high-heeled boots and leather pants with a purple silk blouse. She looked about Hanna’s age but older somehow, as if life had aged her using pain. She smiled but Hanna could see there was nothing inside of her eyes, her smile was a mask.

  She walked past Hanna and sat at the chair with her father, “Do you want her here for it?” She spoke softly.

  He nodded, “A promise is a promise.”

  She nodded, “It is.”

  He looked at Hanna, “I have loved you for hundreds of years, long before I ever knew you.”

  He closed his eyes as the girl took his hands. She sighed as if a lover caressed her, she inhaled in ecstasy.

  Hanna watched as he died in front of her, still holding the hand of the mysterious young woman.

  Tears slipped from her eyes as she shivered, watching his exhale that seemed to go on for an eternity. It matched the inhale of the young woman. Hanna gripped the piece of paper he had given her, it was the last piece of him.

  The girl rose looking at Hanna with glowing steel colored eyes, “Now you see what happens, remember the ancient reed, ‘Do what ye will but harm none’ and we will never have to meet like this again young Hyde.”

  She was gone from the room before Hanna could comprehend what had happened, she knew better than to try.

  She walked back to his bed and sat in the chair beside her father gripping the piece of paper. She waited for something to make sense.

  Chapter Two: Dear Diary

  “I’m sorry miss, your father was an amazing man.” She turned to see Roland standing in the hall looking heartbroken. His lower lip trembled as he spoke, "He will be missed."

  She looked at her father, once more he had aged in death, but she could see the face that was his. She squeezed his hand one last time before letting go. She walked to Roland and murmured, “I’m sorry for your loss. Mine was minimal, I barely knew him.”

  He nodded, looking as if he were going to lose control any second. “Shall I call and have your things moved here?” He asked looking hopeful.

  She frowned, “Here?”

  He nodded, “Yes, the manor is yours now.”

  She grimaced, “My father isn’t even gone yet. I can't stay here.”

  He nodded, “The coroner will be here any moment with an ambulance. The bed will go out with him and the room will go back to being the storage room.” He continued nodding, “I dare say miss when you see the study you will want some time to go over everything.”

  The doorbell chimed causing Roland to nod suddenly, "Please excuse me."

  She looked back at her father once more trying not to remember the good times with him. She wanted to remember how it felt to hate him. She wanted to let go of the paper an
d forget he ever existed.

  He had left her all alone.

  Hanna walked down the hall to the large over stocked kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. She wanted to think about herself, she wanted to know what happened to her. Deep down she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear the burden of anything else.

  ****

  She didn’t know how long she had stood in the kitchen, staring at the cupboards, seeing pictures in the knots and grain of the wood. When Roland appeared again her feet ached. She didn’t notice him at first. She didn’t notice the tears that had streamed her face long enough to soak her shirt. She didn’t notice the heaving sound her throat made.

  She did notice the shapes in the wood grains. She noticed a man's face laughing-tilting his head back, she noticed a dove soaring, she noticed a waterfall with logs below.

  “Miss Hanna you need some sleep, your father always slept for a day or two afterward.”

  She nodded, she didn’t know what afterward meant but she knew she needed sleep.

  She let him lead her away. She let him help her up the huge Gone with the Wind staircase she had loved the first time she had seen it. She let him tuck her into the giant bed her father had bought her. She had sworn that she would never sleep in it only months prior. She had sworn that she would never sleep in the new house. She never wanted him to know how much she loved the house. As her face landed softly on the feather pillow sleep took her, before she stood a chance at arguing with herself.

  She slept like the dead do, she dreamt similarly too. Her dreams were full of shaky images she couldn’t pinpoint and flashes of faces she knew all too well.

  She saw Rebecca, her best friend in all the world sitting with her. She saw food, a car and a forest. But like everything else the vision seemed locked to her. It was as if a fog covered it all, only allowing small pieces to be revealed in a sudden flash.

  As she became less exhausted her mind cleared, the fog lifted revealing the forest again. It was dark and thick. She didn’t know the forest, she walked through looking for something or someone. Her hands scratched moving the heavy branches, her shirt tore revealing her stomach. She ignored it, desperate to find something. She looked at her hands as they moved the branches. Each finger was coated in something thick and red. She looked again, trying to make her eyes focus but they would not.