HEal ME
Reapers Reign book three
Aleisha Maree
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This book is a work of fiction. References to historical events, real people, or real locals are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 by Aleisha Maree
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
All rights reserved.
Cover © Amanda Walker PA & Design
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Heal Me (Reapers Reign)
Timberly
Ghost
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
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Further Reading: Honey, You Saved Me
Also By Aleisha Maree
About the Author
About the Publisher
Published by Susan Horsnell
T/A Cocky Romance Publishing
A.B.N. 57 357 599 847
Dedication
To My FRIend
I want to say a very special thanks to one extremely wonderful woman who is my inspiration in this writing world and well life in general. She is a fellow author and now friend who I still fan girl over every day. She is none other than the gorgeous Miss Candace Dowds. Guys she is remarkable, and I draw so much inspiration from her and her amazing talent. She is the reason I write, it was her books and her characters that showed me to be me no matter what, and to also do me, to never apologize to the world. Shit even your friends and family for the person you are. She showed me through her courage to speak out about her dark days and nights that it’s ok to break and cry. We all have the right to lose control. It's how we pull back in from it that makes us stronger and better. She is one strong Chica and when I grow up I so wanna be her. Candace babes I freaking love you, thank you for allowing me into your world and showing me that in the dark there is light and if you have a bit of Marshall Mathers (Eminem) in your ears then all will be GOOD... I love that you love his music as much as ME... OH, and Connor McGregor’s hot as shit body.
Stay you babes, stay strong, and keep being badass, we are all human and bleed and you remind me of it daily!
I’d throw it all down for you doll and totally throat punch any fu*ker that dampens your shine and brings pain to your heart and tears to your eyes.
This book is for you all, everyone who suffers from anxiety, depression, dark days, and lonely nights. I'm here and I care. In this book is my email address, email me if you need to talk. Pm on me on fb I’ll stop whatever I'm doing to pull anyone out of the dark and into the light for life is fu8king amazing even if at this moment it's hard.
Never stop being you, the days can be hard and the nights dark but some day somewhere in time you will look back and know that you did it. Stay strong for you are loved.
Love always Aleisha Maree xo
aleishamareeauthor@gmail.com
Playlist-Spotfiy
https://open.spotify.com/user/p7tej673vwh280o7jvl3191qw/playlist/0PYvfqsrRqPZDE1CP1rlPV?si=MaDtaCG2QwmmDl_r175sbQ
Bring me to life – Evanescence
lonely together – sofia karlberg
shamless – sofia karlberg
i just know – jacob lee
let me love the lonely – james arthur
flying high falling low – walking on cars
The fighter – in this moment
fallen angel – three days grace
little do you know – alex & sierra
wicked game – acoustic – stone sour
bother – stone sour
song #3 – stone sour
snuff – slipknot
zombie – bad wolves
beneath your beautiful – labrinth, emeil sande
pray – devilskin
fade – devilskin
mountains – devilskin
voices – devilskin
little pills – devilskin
vessel – devilskin
start a revoultion – devilskin
pray – devilskin
drug dealer – macklemore, ariana deboo
over it – macklmore, donna missal
love the way you lie – eminem, rihanna
seduction – eminem
the monstar – eminen, rihanna
space bound – eminem
say you WON’T let go – james arthur
love me like you do – ellie goulding
broken – seether, amy lee
praying – kesha
pray for me – g-eazy
him & i – g-eazy, halsey
me, myself & i – G-eazy, bebe rexha
sober – g-EAZY, CHARLIE puth
i miss the misery – halestorm
mz hyde – halestorm
i am the fire – halestorm
sick individual – halestorm
amen – halestorm
new modern love – halestorm
bad girls world – halestorm
the reckoning – halestorm
better man – little big town
girl crush – little big town
close – nick jonas
chainsaw – nick jonas
jealous – nick jonas
bom bidi bom – nick jonas niki minaj
i fall apart – post malone
not afraid – halsey
for you – liam payne, rita ora
sacrifice – black atlass, jessie reyez
helium – sia
salted wound – sia
so far away – david pfeffer
read all about it – kelly rida
hold on - DEREK hough
lemon tree – kaiak
need somebody – xuitcasecity
i’m not her – julia brennan
hello – the voice performance – christian cuevas
my immortal – corvyx
one more light – citizen shade
him & i – charlie the third eye
just a man – somo
bitter pill – gavin james
Timbe
rly
I'm a lost soul, so broken not even the devil wanted it, or me.
We start out clean though, don’t we? A blank page in this so-called life.
Was I ever loved purely? I have only ever felt hatred and pain, is it the world that blackens you?
The dirt seeping in, poisoning your existence. No matter how hard you try, you cannot scrub yourself clean.
Or is it the people who brought us into this place that makes us this way?
Trying to find your way through the dark nights and endless days, that’s a nightmare in itself.
It's so lonely being this shell, this vessel that spills unclean words, lies, and stories. I don’t know who this person is. Surely she can’t be all I am?
It's easy to say you’re fine, it's easy to hide behind the smile. To fall behind the wall of panic and apprehension. It's a cold dark place. It's safe there. It's home.
It's getting harder to breathe though, harder to hold up the walls. The façade of ‘yes sir,’ ‘no ma’am,’ smiles over pots of coffee, chitchat over pancakes; it's too much for my jittery soul. This life of misery, surely it will be over soon. I have a choice to wake up or to jump out. Finding the strength and courage to do either? Now that’s the hardest part.
On the sixth floor of the hell I call home in Queensbridge Housing, Queens, I have been here for as long as I can remember. The same dark, cold room with the same gross overbearing smells that seep into the cracks of your skin. The rancid smell of urine flows up from the bottom floors and stairwell, up to us at the top. The elevators never work, I have to take the stairs daily. Trudging through the rank corridors, stepping over and around drunk, drugged up bodies that just pass out and stay where they fall. The roaches and water bugs crawling over them, the floorboards and in and under the doors. There is always loud music, fighting, screaming, gunshots... the works. I still get snickered at, spat at and misused, hounded for money and cigarettes by the homeless that squat inside the building.
My door is at the end of the sixth floor, it's a living hell of dark horrors. I live here with the Devil and her menacing men. I cook, I clean, and I serve them. It's not a place I want to be.
In my room all I have is a small cot that sits to the far wall, a dresser, and a chair that I sit at to look out the window that you can never shut. It doesn’t matter; it's not like anyone will be coming up here...to what...attack me? God knows her dealers do enough of that as it is.
They did try to board it up once, there is one board still hanging over the top. I laughed, it's not like I'm going anywhere, or that anyone can get in, I am six floors up. Who would want to come save me anyway? I’m a dirty, unclean waste of space, that's what I have been told so many times. And no one below knows of the torment that I live in. The hell that is this life, shit, it's Queens, the slums, the projects, them down there...they can’t help me. They can’t even help themselves.
The rats are my only friends, coming to sit with me each and every dark night... the nights are the worst. It’s when her drug lords come to collect payment. I’m like a modern-day Cinderella cooking and cleaning, locked away in the dark room high up, peeking down on the world below me, from my window in this hellhole with creaky boards, wet walls and the tears of a woman who wishes for this to end.
Dirty dark men with breath that smells of whiskey and hands that reek of cigarette smoke. Bodies that push me into the cot night after night tormenting my mind, taking what they want so roughly, so hard, releasing their filth into my body. I can feel it swirling around in me, seeping into my blood, tainting me forever.
Night after night I curl up into a ball with a tatty old blanket that I have had since forever. It really does nothing to keep me warm or hold the nightmares at bay, it's just become a habit now.
My name is Timberly, I am twenty, I work at Big Red’s Diner, down on 6th and 10th. I am misused, lost, broken, dirty, and alone. That was until I laid eyes on the guy with the dragon tattoo who smells of ink and musk, mixed with the smell of smoke.
I get lost in books their worlds so pure and magical, so unlike the world I live in. I read about men with eyes that illuminate one's soul.
Filth and grime, dark demons, nights filled with fear, days that are so bleak, no light filters through its endless pit of damage. A world of panic attacks and nervous episodes. Welcome to my life...
Ghost
My name is Ghost. I'm the VP for the Reapers Reign.
I'm completely unhinged. The club uses me as their in-house tormenter, I love to cut, slice and dice.
My weapons of choice are a switchblade and a sword. Throw in a blow torch also for good measure, ‘cause, well why the hell not?
Falling in love with me is not a fucking option, I’m the devil in a tattooed body.
I’ll rip your heart out through your pussy after I have eaten you out and your brains have spilled out through your ears, all over the pillows.
I’m dangerous, dark, a fucken unfeigned lunatic, an A-Grade asshole.
I keep all women at arm’s length I have not found one yet that can handle the dark I live in, the anger I possess. I have an unhealthy thirst for pain and blood, and well... some get a tad squeamish.
I'm the king of kings in my world.
Welcome to my asylum, enjoy your stay... oh and the voices. Can you hear them? Well, you’ll get used to them.
Once you enter you will never exit the same.
I have never wanted to be close to anyone, to let anyone in, pain comes from that. My life has no room for feelings and women. I'm evil and dark, the club girls and whores ride my dick, it means nothing, I have no feelings. Or so I thought, until I laid eyes on the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Timberly, the lovely but skittish young lady who works at the diner across from my shop on 6th and 10th. There is something so alluring about her I just want to eat that little lady’s face off.
But they hurt her, tormented her, sent her to an abyss of pure darkness. I see it in her eyes. I see the mist of dark sadness that surrounds her soul. We are the same both hunted and alone.
I'm going to pull her out of that darkness and into the light. I’ll make her my queen, to stand tall beside me, not hide in the shadows like a wallflower. I’ll rain torment down on those fuckers, take them from this Earth, so my queen can rule without fear of her past hurting her future. Now to get her to see me. That would be the starting point here...
Chapter One
Timberly
The pitter-patter of rat’s feet is what keeps me company in the dungeon of the dark, laying on the cot in the corner of the room that holds no pictures, no pretty paint, wallpaper or carpet, no sweet smells of home, just dark, wet sadness, anger and pain. Why was I born into this? Why is this my life? How did this become my existence? My state of living, in reality, I'm not even existing. That existence was taken the night she allowed them to take the purest part of me and each night after that, my soul broke into tiny pieces.
I wonder if I will ever escape and find the happy ever after I so long for. Will I find someone who can glue my soul back together? Is there such a man who would want someone as shattered and tormented as I? That’s the question here; is there? Do such things exist in this life?
We will see. I grab for the bundle of money I have been saving and hiding among the floorboards, where the rats, mice and roaches live. Soon I'm sure I will have enough to run away from here forever, to escape them, but will I ever be able to scrub off the filth left behind from them?
To be free, to forget that this is just smoke and ashes, that I can be a modern-day gal and have what I see the other young women that come into the diner have – holding their boyfriend’s hands the look of love and happiness as if they are walking on air. Closing my eyes, I drift into a sweet dream filled sleep of hand-holding and forehead kisses. Oh how I long for that.
The morning sun
kisses my face through the window. I see the dust bugs floating by on the rays of the sun, I hear the footsteps coming to unlock my door. I push myself back as far as I can on the cot bed pulling my knees up close to my chest my breathing hitches as my heart stops fear laces through me and anger dances over the hairs on my spine, slamming my eyes shut I suck in a deep breath and ready my tiny shaking body for the onslaught of a cold bucket of water that gets thrown over me as she barks at me to get the fuck up get their food and coffee ready!
“Well, I would be able to do it a lot easier if you didn’t lock me in each night!” I spit which, in turn, gets me a hard slap to the side of my face as my head whips around. I hide the water pooling in my eyes.
“Got to run your mouth, don’t you? You smart little bitch, get up, you have ten minutes to clean your poor excuse for a girl up and get us fed before you go make money to pay the rent.”
Rubbing my hand over my red, swollen cheek, I pull myself up, hang the tattered blanket over the chair and the wet, stained mattress up by the window to dry. Heading to the small cupboard that holds my work uniform and grabbing it, I then head to the bathroom to wash. I hope this day goes by fast so I can escape into the land of dreams and non-reality. It’s better than living in her hell hole of hatred, resentment and anger. She is my mother, she gave birth to me her hate for me makes me hate her she is poison and she spits out a venom that burns. Her words cut deep coiling an anger in me that makes me hate the thoughts that dance through my mind of just what I’d love to do to her and her sick men. She is killing me slowly.
How sad that my life has become one of dreaming and torment at the hands of old men and a mother who is the spawn of the devil, I'm sure of it. No, she is the Devil!
I have to head to the library before work. I'm trying to find my grandparents on her side they could be my escape from this torture chamber. I haven’t seen them in years. The last letter I saw that came from them held a plane ticket for me, but the devil ripped it up and gave me one hell of a beating for it. Like it was my fault, they loved me. They wanted me, and I needed them. Will they still want me if I find them? Still want to love me once they see the hurt in my eyes and the devil on my shoulder.