OVERCAST (B723 Book 1) Read online

  THIS BOOK CONTAINS TRIGGERS

  PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION

  Copyright © 2020 by Hazel Grace

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This book is intended for the reader of this ebook ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Cover design: Black Widow Designs

  PLAY ME THE SONGS <3

  FOR THOSE WHO FEEL LOST

  “You’re looking mighty pretty tonight, Stormi. If I didn’t know any better...I would say you were hiding from me.”

  That voice.

  My body cringes in pure dread at the throaty tone that just snuck up on me. He’s exactly what I wanted to avoid.

  Him, his hands, the way his eyes violate and suck me in because he thinks he can.

  Because I’ve never stopped him before.

  There’s something wrong, maybe a screw missing, with how I say nothing at all. I freeze, I burn up in chills, and my stomach firmly coils at his touch.

  But my brain doesn’t activate a movement to run.

  Walk away.

  Because you’re weak and worthless. Forget Dad being my biggest disappointment, it’s me.

  On cue, his beefy palm suddenly rests on my lower back, fingers splayed as a weak shove gets me to step out of the darkness of the hallway. “Come join the rest of the party. I saved a spot for you.”

  Hollis’s words singe every hair on my body as I stumble gracelessly into the throng of people gathered tonight.

  Three men sit around our modest dining table with Dad, all chins tucked into their chests as they study the cards in their hands. Bottles of Jack Daniels and Miller Lite scatter the wooden surface with remnants of peanuts and ashtrays full of still lit cigarettes. A wad of cash is carelessly discarded in the middle, alluding that this night is going to end up with a sore loser and all of them drunk.

  Coffee brown eyes snap up at me from the head of the table, and Dad, for once, looks satisfied to see me.

  “There you are.” He pulls his hand closer to his body. “I need—” His gaze then latches on to the menace behind me.

  Please, Daddy, see me.

  “What did you do, take a piss for an hour?” My heart and hope sinks pathetically into my stomach.

  It shouldn’t.

  Dad plays deaf, dumb, and blind when it comes to his friends. How they always find a way to sandwich me up against something. How they conveniently disappear when I’m running the errand Dad can’t get up from the table to do—grabbing beer from the garage. Or how they reach over and brush their forearm along my breasts, whispering vile and dirty things in my ear. How they’ll make me come so hard if I just spread my legs for them.

  Bile rises up my throat as I recall the last encounter I had with Paul, one of Dad’s coworkers, on Tuesday night.

  His breath was hot on my face, stinking of pungent cigars and whiskey. His pudgy fingers looped around the waistband of my cotton shorts as he tried to delve deeper.

  My words conveniently lodged in my esophagus. His, unfortunately, didn’t.

  “I might not be as young as I used to be, darlin’, but I can still fuck like I’m twenty-two.”

  Hollis’s half-hearted chuckle behind me assails the back of my neck before he possessively grips the fabric of my second-hand T-shirt. “Didn’t know I was being timed, Bobby.”

  He twists the cotton material, keeping me grounded to my spot, and I silently scream at myself to move.

  Scream.

  Yell.

  Do freaking anything right now.

  I despise that I don’t round on him and bark out not to touch me like a normal twenty-two-year-old. That my lips fail to respond to the way my brain tells them to operate.

  My mind and body, they don’t function well together. They’re two distinct entities that short circuit when danger emerges from its depths and into my solace surroundings. Hollis learned early on that these grounds are easy for the chase.

  And even then, it’s not a pursuit because I’d have to run in order for it to be one.

  “I was on the phone when I found your daughter,” Hollis continues, stepping closer to press his stout stomach into my back. “We were about to catch up.”

  I wait for it with bated breath.

  I hang onto the belief that Dad will ask him why he’s so close to me. Why he’s probably looking at me like he discovered a piece of cake that he wants to devour in one bite.

  I know he has to see it because Dad’s vision hasn’t diminished in his old age. This turning a blind eye to certain things has to end before Hollis, and the rest of Dad’s buddies start passing me around like a frisbee.

  “We need more beer.” My next exhale is rickety as Dad fails me for the millionth time in my existence.

  He’s back to his cards, the most important thing in the room beside his lack of beer.

  I shouldn’t be surprised.

  I read too many books, that’s the problem. I hold on to faith that is placed in the wrong people and situations. I’m on my own, have been for a long time. No six-year-old that I know of has balled their knees into their chest at night, believing that their father was beating and hurting the woman he brought home that night. I heard pleas of God and hard slaps that echoed from the walls. Things crashing to the floor and cries of what sounded to be pain. Little did I recognize at the time that they were having sex, but he didn’t bother to keep it quiet.

  Why should he?

  I was always something he easily discarded or ignored. And I’ve gotten used to it.

  I watch my Dad’s brows knit, solely focused back on his cards. His buddies surrounding the rest of the table haven’t even stolen a look at me.

  It’s because of him.

  I’ve watched Hollis break a chair over a man’s head just for asking me if I wanted to go to the party store with him.

  I may be naïve to a lot of stuff, but Hollis’s jealousy isn’t one of them.

  “Let me catch up with Stormi,” Hollis vouches. “And then she’s all yours.”

  And without a response from Dad, he wraps a meaty arm around my waist and begins to guide me into the dimly lit family room.

  Passing the large sixty-inch TV that Dad randomly brought home last week, a lust-filled groan suddenly charges from it. My neck snaps to the screen, watching a brunette on all fours, positioned on a bed and getting fucked from behind.

  All displayed in HD.

  My feet freeze in mid-step. My body finally listening to my head as Hollis nudges me forward.

  “C’mon,” he exhorts with another thrust towards our tattered couch. “Let’s do this where we will be comfortable.”

  My socks drag along our dirty shagged carpet and in the furniture’s direction with reluctance, but they continue the journey to my utter frustration.

  Pivoting around to sit, Hollis is already in my space, keeping me from running because I have before. Hence the dresser that is continuously placed in front of my bedroom door now.

  My butt hits the metal springs before Hollis takes a close seat beside me. Leaned back with his legs spread apart, his stomach fills out his white tee underneath his brown flannel as he slowly chews on a straw.
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  He lets his dark eyes shamelessly fall over my body before his arm rests above my head.

  I’m nothing to look at besides the fact that I’m accessible for Hollis’s filthy fantasies. At school, people bump into me all the time.

  I’m so quiet, and out of the way, that half of my coworkers don’t even know who I am. I’ve been told over a dozen times that only employees are allowed in the back of the library until I show them my work badge. Then, they realize their mistake.

  Fast forward a few weeks, the same people are doing it again.

  I also work a second job when I can pick up a shift at the animal shelter, I just blend in with the animals. I prefer their company anyway.

  Not the companionship that Dad keeps.

  They’re all drunks and drug heads. Pills, cocaine, heroin, weed, and oxy, as long as they can get high, they’ll swallow, smoke, or inject it.

  “Been doing good in school?”

  Like he gives a flying crap, but I nod once, keeping my chin tucked into my chest because I’m not watching what’s on TV.

  Wish I could unhear it as well, but that’s yet another superpower I don’t have.

  “You been in there doing your homework?” Another bob of my head and he scoots closer to me, his thick legs brushing mine. “You’ve always been a good girl.” Removing his arm from over me, his beefy hand lands on my jeaned thigh.

  My gut twists painfully, tightening harder as his fingertips gently squeeze in silent code that he wants to do something.

  An event I didn’t sign up for, nor want any part of.

  “You know I’m an excellent teacher too.”

  Oh no, no, no…

  “You see the TV...she’s about to come. You ever—” I jolt up from the couch, but he’s already ready for any attempts of fleeing.

  His hand clamps around my bicep, and I’m brought back down before Hollis’s body looms closer to me.

  “Don’t be scared,” he coos gently. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “No,” I stutter. “I want to go—” His fingers fumbles with the button of my jeans.

  “I’m going to show you—” The waistline of my pants loosen. “—how a man can elicit so much pleasure, baby girl.” Callous fingers brush my lower abdomen before trailing underneath the waistband of my cotton panties.

  A throaty groan flees from his throat, and I feel as though the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had for lunch is going to come up and spew all over him.

  “Look up,” he orders, working on his pants with his free hand. “I’m going to finish us both off. Don’t be afraid to tell me how much you like it.”

  Something springs from his underpants, and I know it’s his dick because he slowly starts to stroke it. The tips of his fingers descend towards my folds, but he halts them there.

  “We’re not doing that tonight.” He gestures for the TV with his head, but I don’t look at it. “We’ll start you out slow. Now that I finally got this opportunity…I won’t rush it.”

  I bite the inside of my bottom lip. I’d rather feel pain and taste my own blood than concentrate on his grubby hands or the fact that I’m scared he’s going to choke me out again.

  The last time we ran into each other, he cornered me into the garage. We did the same song and dance; I didn’t want to follow him, and he wasn’t taking my resistance as an answer.

  The moment my shirt lifted was when the spark between my body and brain ignited, and my hand crashed across his pudgy face.

  Completely shocked by my violent outburst, which I had every right to do, I was able to sprint back inside the house and to my room. He never followed me, letting the anxiety of another meeting plague me for days afterward.

  “Da—” Hollis’s body slams into the side of mine, suppressing the word from finishing. The pressure of Hollis’s two hundred and some-odd pound frame crushing my ribs makes me feel claustrophobic and on the verge of a panic attack.

  “Now, why are you going to do that?” Hollis asks at the same second the woman on the TV takes this moment to curse, and a male feral growl crams my airwaves. “Watch what they’re doing. You don’t want me to show you my knife again, do you?”

  My neck lifts on demand because I’m scared just like I was the last time.

  Everything is a repeating record, but with a different ending. Each time he catches me, these meetings get more explicit. As though he’s trying to prep me for the endgame of whatever sick delusion he has running through his head. The faint scar on my left breast is a constant reminder that when he asks for me to do something, it’s in my best interest to do it.

  My pussy is promptly spread with two of Hollis’s fingers while I watch a stocky cock go in and out of some woman’s ass.

  “You’re getting wet,” Hollis mutters, pleased with himself as though he was the one to elicit such a reaction from me.

  Maybe he is.

  Maybe I’m sick and twisted, a girl who wants to get dirtied up without even knowing it. Prey that prefers to be caught.

  It’s messed up.

  It’s foul.

  It’s something my body and brain can’t agree on, and it tears me in half with guilt-stricken blame that I don’t seem to know what I want or need to do.

  “We’re gonna get off together...then I’m going to lick your young cunt off my fingers while you watch.”

  The pads of his fingertips slowly circle my clit as Hollis peers back at the TV. The young man with solid abs is now leisurely fucking his partner’s asshole while she’s on her back, moaning for more. Her pussy is spread open, legs readily fanned for easy access.

  “Open your legs wider,” Hollis orders gruffly, not waiting but knocking into them with his knuckles. “I wanna have full entry to this.” Removing his fingers, he stares at the hole that the man is currently screwing on the TV and trails up to my shamefully wet clit. “Fuck, yes. I knew I just had to warm you up, baby girl.”

  His strokes become more urgent as he watches the porno play out and uses me as his personal sex toy to get himself off.

  My body begins to buzz as he works me. My stomach corkscrews in disgust while as it hums at his rough brushes.

  Hollis is not an attractive man. He’s in his early fifties with a ZZ top beard that’s graying and a crater face. He looks like a dude who wanted to join a biker group, but they wouldn’t let him because he couldn’t get out of his own way.

  And couldn’t keep his hands to his damn self.

  “I bet her ass is as tight as this pussy,” Hollis murmurs, but I don’t miss the hidden suggestion that he flatly lays out. A finger finds itself inside me and slowly thrusts in and out. “Aw, God…Stormi.”

  “Just like that,” the woman on the TV mewls in pleasure, arching her naked body for more. Hollis’s thumb grazes my clit, while his digit still drives inside me.

  “My thick cock wants to sink inside this pussy,” he utters through a shattered exhale. “Do you think you can stay quiet while I fuck your hole?”

  “Damn, Hollis, you didn’t want to wait for me?” It takes me a second to register that someone that wasn’t me said Hollis’s name, and I quickly search for it—my out.

  Bianca.

  Hollis’s friend that comes with him from time to time and fucks my dad. Who winks at me like it’s funny and we’re going to high five afterward.

  The reason why my Dad’s favorite holiday is Thanksgiving is because it was her bright idea a few years ago to let Dad’s friends run a train on her, which completely ruined it for me.

  Meaning, all in all, she’s as worthless as if my Dad was staring at me right now on this couch with Hollis’s hand down my pants.

  She’s not going to help or even notice, not that she would care, that my facial expressions aren’t into what Hollis is doing to me right now. Bianca doesn’t see me for who I am, which isn’t living here by choice and that I don’t want to be passed around.

  Inching into the room, she brushes her long blonde hair back before crossing her arms over her giant
boobs and waiting for Hollis’s response.

  “Little Stormi wanted to learn a few things tonight,” Hollis finally replies, still rubbing against me. “Things she couldn’t learn in her textbooks.”

  Bianca lifts a brow. “Really?” I shake my head, heartbeat pounding in my ears as her dark eyes fall on me. “Ride his dick. He might not be a looker, but it’ll make you come within minutes.”

  And with a wink, she begins down the hall, probably to steal more of my clothes and other limited things I have with her sticky fingers.

  The roughness of Hollis’s fingers causes more friction between my clit and pussy as he picks up the pace. It sends pleasure and more revulsion writhing through my veins.

  I’m obviously old enough to know what’s right and what’s wrong. I’m cognitive that I should elbow him in the side or punch him in the dick to get him to let me go. But I’m in a comatose state of fear and emotions that always filter through my frame when he’s around.

  I don’t want to come on his fingers. To hear and feel how my body is betraying me by the second.

  I’m disgusting.

  I’m worse than the man sitting next to me, jacking himself off while fingering me to his completion.

  Hot tears prick at my eyes. They’re heavy, blurring my vision of the X-rated movie.

  I should’ve never left my room in the first place. I was fully aware of what could’ve happened the moment I left when Dad hollered for me.

  Hollis waited for me.

  He purposely abided his time, wanted this, and I played right into his sickening hands.

  “Watch how easily that cock goes inside,” Hollis praises off an aroused groan. “That could be—” An abrupt crash bursts through the room, jerking my foggy attention to the direction of the front door.

  An impending figure stands there, but all I can see is the black outline through my pending tears.

  One finally hits my cheek as I blink before I hear the distinct rack of a gun prickling up my spine.

  Hollis shifts next to me, preparing an effort to shoot up from the couch, but plops down just as quickly as he tries to stand. Although I’m confused about what’s happening, I’m relieved that Hollis’s body parts aren’t touching mine anymore.