Page 1 of Soul Deep
Chapter One
“I never considered myself abused since he never actually hit me.” The woman let out a shuddering breath followed by a sob. “He always made me feel so ashamed. Like, anytime there was an advertisement for a diet plan or something on TV, he’d nudge me.”
A low ripple of commiseration rolled through the room. Lillian Oremun closed her eyes and let the anger wash over her as the other woman continued with her story. Tonight, it was especially sharp considering the speaker reminded her so much of her little sister; the light blonde hair, the baggy clothes, the hunched shoulders as if she was trying to find a hiding place inside her own skin… The urge to find the male that had abused his mate and inflict a like pain, was nearly overwhelming. These group support sessions were supposed to be cathartic, instead they fueled the hatred inside of her, and Lily embraced the emotion. It kept her on point. It kept her focused. So she would return to these meetings any time she felt herself beginning to soften. Some might say that the softening process was part of the healing progression – healthy, natural… She disagreed. Softening was dangerous. The sheer number of women who came to these meetings was proof of that.
Opening her eyes, she glanced about the room, taking in the multitude of faces, as well as the features of each of the women. They were all different. Different hair, eye, and skin color. Different heights and build. No, there was definitely no set physicality for abuse. Some slouched, shoulders hunched, while others sat at the very edge of their metal folding chairs, their spines ramrod straight. Some were dressed in business attire, while others wore jeans or leggings. But every one of them had something in common – something more than their shared history – they had a telltale haunted look behind their eyes as they listened, because every one of them had once believed that they had somehow been the architect of their own nightmare. Every story told within these walls had a common thread: they all, had at one time thought, that if they had simply done something different, done something better, done more… then it never would have happened to them.
Case in point, as Lily’s ears once again tuned into the speaker’s words. “I always thought that if I just tried a little harder, things would go back to the way they used to be.” The woman lowered her head, her hands twisting in her lap and her voice choking up with emotion as she continued. “He didn’t used to be like that. He used to be so wonderful…”
As the woman’s words trailed off, Lily clenched her fists, letting her nails dig into the heels of her hands. So much pain, she could scent it, heavy in the air, and she felt the tingle behind her eyes that alerted her she was dangerously close to shifting.
Trying to distract herself, she focused on the room in general; took in its dilapidated condition. They were in the basement of a church that obviously wasn’t seeing much more than pennies on the collection plate. The walls had been painted a cheery sunflower yellow, but whoever had slapped the paint on hadn’t bothered to repair the cracks or chips prior to painting, so years of damage showed clearly through. The trim and floor was painted a dark brown gloss, but the wooden planks of the floor were so uneven from probably decades of the building shifting and settling, that the recent paint job was nothing more than a cheap attempt at cosmetic surgery. Unlike the walls and floor, the ceiling didn’t look like it had been touched with paint in, well, ever. A multitude of stains from water damage, smoking, probably during weekly bingo nights back in the days when smoking indoors had been allowed, and black blotches that Lily suspected was mold, had left a road map on the once white ceiling.
“Lily, do you wish to share tonight?”
Lily snapped her eyes front and center and focused on the group therapist. Doctor Hillary was a patient woman. She never nagged, never pushed, always kept that pleasant, understanding smile on her face. When Lily had first met the woman, she’d been a bit surprised. She had expected a buttoned up, suit wearing, note taking, shrink that would ‘hmm’ as she analyzed all of the deficiencies of her patients. Instead, she’d been met with a casually dressed woman with wispy dark blonde hair, kind eyes, and a sweet disposition.
How long had Lily been coming to these meetings? Almost a year now, after Mrs. Potter had gently made the suggestion, yet she’d never felt comfortable sharing her own story; exposing her weakness, leaving herself vulnerable in front of strangers despite all of them having suffered a similar past. But Doctor Hillary never forced the issue. Nor did she push this night when Lily shook her head no. She simply smiled, murmured “Maybe next time,” and then moved on.
When the meeting wrapped, Lily stood from her chair and stretched, sure that the uncomfortable seat of the metal folding chair had left a permanent dent in her backside. As usual, coffee and a box of store bought cookies had been left out on a table for refreshment, but Lily wasn’t interested. Lowering her head to ensure that her curtain of long blonde hair swung forward to conceal the scarred side of her face, she quickly made her way to the door in an attempt to avoid conversation.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like these women. Lily was sure they were all fine, upstanding citizens with lives outside of these sessions: home, work, probably some kids, but Lily wasn’t interested in chit-chat. Her panther was always close to the surface after one of these meetings, and the last thing these women needed was to be traumatized by an accidental growl. Best to head home, shift, and release all that energy by patrolling the woods surrounding her little cabin.
She was glad she had come though. She needed the reminder of why it was best to stay single. An image ofthat bearfilled her head and she nearly snarled. Christian Black was definitely dangerous. Ever since he showed up in Malsum Pass with his brother, Sebastian, she’d been feeling all sorts of gooey in her middle. The male’s dark brown eyes practically smoldered every time he looked at her. Seriously – smolder – who does that in real life? Did he practice that crap in the mirror? He could write a book and title it,10 Best Ways to Make a Female’s Ovaries Explode,by Christian Black. He’d make a fortune.
But Lily didn’t want her ovaries exploding. She didn’t want gooey innards, and she certainly didn’t want her heart racing simply because he was within visual range. She’d been taken in by good looks before and had paid a hefty price – was still paying that price every time someone’s eyes fell onto her ruined cheek. Oh, they all tried to disguise their curiosity, but it was there – the cringe, the unspoken question, the pity… No. Just no. Best to keep her anger and mistrust of males in general as a shield to guard her heart. She had no intention of ever leaving herself that exposed again.
Now, if that bear would just leave… According to the highly prolific gossip mill at the diner, it was supposed to be a vacation with his brother and his brother’s mate. A few weeks and then he’d be gone. Unfortunately, Mr. Smolder had decided that Malsum Pass might prove as therapeutic for him as it had been for Sebastian, so he’d stayed, was even now probably working on fixing up that shack of a cabin that had been his brother’s, and waaaaay too close to Lily’s place for her peace of mind. Stupid, gooey innards…
Don’t get her wrong; she had no problem with attraction, lust, or love in general. Her sister Daisy and her mate Alek were proof that not all males were evil shits, even if Lily did tend to listen closely to every word her sister told her trying to read between the lines and look for hidden signs of abuse. Nothing. She always came up empty. Even when her sister was bitching about mated life, it would be obvious to even the most unobservant person that Daisy was blissfully happy. The female radiated happiness from her pores. Her aura was probably rainbows and glitter.
And even though Lily was happy for her sister, that didn’t mean she thought that she might one day want the same for herself. No, her future was set. She had a home, she had two jobs – serving customers at the diner, a job that provided necessary income, and protecting her adopted pack by patrolling the woods, which offered zero monetary compensation, but gave her a much needed sense of satisfaction. Yes, satisfied was an excellent descriptor. She was satisfied with the current state of her life, and if occasionally she felt lonely, well, she could just march herself over to Mrs. Potter’s house and chat with that lovely lady until the feeling passed. Friendship was way better than love anyway, and so much less complicated.
Lily was almost to the door, her eyes downcast to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze and accidentally inviting conversation, when a pair of black biker boots stepped into her path. Lily resisted a groan. The black biker boots were attached to legs incased in ripped blue jeans, leading up to a holey black tee covered with a black leather jacket, and topped by the head of another member of the group who seemed to come here to feed her anger as well. Anne? Annette? Amy? Lily couldn’t remember her name aside from the fact that it started with an A. The woman with the black hair with purple streaks, heavy black eyeliner around brown eyes, and skin so pale she would make a goth jealous, reeked of hatred and vengeance. The scent hit Lily’s nose like burned rubber and gunpowder – pungent, acrid, and sharp.
“Did your old man do that?” The woman asked, her chin jutting forward aggressively to indicate Lily’s cheek.
Slightly shocked by the abrupt question, Lily blinked, “I’m sorry, what?” Out of habit, she raised a hand to pull her hair closer and conceal her scars.
The woman’s eyes were sparkling with malice and her expression mulish as she pushed for confirmation. “Someone went all Freddy Kruger on your face. Was it your man?”
Lily tried to brush past her, uninterested in having this conversation with a stranger. “I need to get going.”
The woman gripped Lily’s arm to detain her, and Lily had to bite back the urge to hiss. Still the woman persisted. “At least tell me he got his. Tell me the bastard’s rotting in jail.”
Lily’s nostrils flared as she scented the desperation in the other woman. They locked gazes for a moment, angry green meeting even angrier brown, before Lily bit out between clenched teeth, “The bastard’s dead.”
A second later, Lily’s arm was released and those angry brown eyes seemed to burn with malicious satisfaction as the woman slowly nodded. “Right on, sister. Right on.”
