Free Fade to Black (The Black Trilogy Book 1) by MC Webb Page B

the blood began to flow. This was something I controlled completely, and it released my mind from bonds I didn’t know were there. I began to cut myself daily. I had so many emotions and no control over them. I hurt so badly in my mind, the physical pain relieved me of it and it felt good.
    When the first shard of broken glass released blood from my upper arm, I immediately felt better. Not in a soothing way, but in a gratifying way. I could control it. I could cut, and not draw blood, or I could cut, and make myself bleed as much as I thought I needed to. I was dirty and diseased, and therefore I needed to bleed from the sickness.
    Escape came to me in bloody droplets. The more I cut, the less I cried. It somehow turned everything off. I now had marks on the outside to match the ones on the inside. I was tempted to cut too deep, but stopped just shy of it. I knew what I was doing was twisted, but I was twisted, so it also made perfect sense to me.
    Matthew didn’t try to kiss me again, though we spent hours talking in person and on the phone. It was months before anything physical took place between us, other than hugging. He just got me. He understood without me saying that I wasn’t ready.
    Most girls bragged about the things they would do with boys. It made me feel out of place, but I had just not got to the point of not hearing Daniel’s nasty words in my ear.
    I turned fifteen and finished my freshman year of high school with honors. Nana was beside herself with pride. I wasn’t sure, but at times sad thoughts showed in her seraphic face, and I secretly wondered if she was just happy I was semi-normal.
    I did have my darkness. That was always there with me. It haunted me most nights. I would wake with dry heaves, thinking of the taste of Daniel, or the smell that rose from his rancid flesh after days of boozing. I hid this as best I could, not wanting to add to the worry I was causing Nana and Papaw already. I went day to day with a smile on my face and a heavy heart.
    The summer came fast and furious. Lana began to hang out at my house more and more that year. She would come to eat and watch TV. I knew, as did everyone in the county, that Lana lived with her grandmother and her mom. Her mom, Nicole, was what Nana called a “lot lizard.” Nana said she was the kind of woman who hung out at truck stops and did things with truckers for money to buy drugs and beer.
    Nana would check on Lana’s grandmother, old Mrs. Morris from time to time but would never take me with her. She said she was scared to death I’d catch a disease. I thought—but didn’t say—I already had a disease, though it left no physical signs. In my mind, I couldn’t catch anything worse than what I already had.
    On days that Nana visited the expectant mothers, she had me stay home or work in the office with Papaw. On a mid-summer’s morning I walked to office to help my favorite Veterinarian and found him sweeping.
    “Hi, Papaw,” I said as I walked in.
    “Well, hello my Piper,” he said brightly.
    I was taller than he was, and I bent my head to kiss his rough cheek. Just as my dad could never seem to keep a smooth face, neither could his dad. Papaw had five o’clock shadow by eleven in the morning. His hair had been chalk white since before I was born.
    “What ya up to today, kiddo?” he asked.
    He returned to his sweeping, as I got a coke from the fridge.
    “Nothing. Nana’s visiting Mrs. Morris. Need me to do anything?” I asked, hopping up on the counter.
    Before he could answer, a man came in, followed by a younger version of himself. Taking his hat off, the older man nodded in my direction. I hopped off the counter and went to stand behind it. Strangers made me immediately wary. I felt I was always anticipating someone tying me up at any moment.
    “Mr. Mitchell. It’s been a long time,” the man said, in an accent I couldn’t place.
    He stuck out a big hand to shake in welcome. He was a dark man, maybe Spanish or