Scorched

R Holmes

Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

1. Part One:

2. Chapter 1

3. Chapter 2

4. Part Two:

5. Chapter 1

6. Chapter 2

7. Part Three:

8. Chapter 1

9. Chapter 2

10. Chapter 3

11. Chapter 4

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Scorched. Copyright © 2015 by R. Holmes.

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.

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For those who let love redeem them.

"In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine."

-- Maya Angelou

Prologue

They always say the first cut is the deepest; that the first love is a love you never forget... it’s always there in the back of your mind; something you never can quite push all the way out. I never thought of life without him, until the choice was no longer mine. Each day was like sucking in enough air to survive, but never enough to feel at ease. It was one foot in front of the other, and no matter how many steps I took, it’s never getting ahead. It felt like the weight of the world was crashing down, constantly.

I remember being seven years old, the innocence of the world surrounding me, running next door banging on his door when I could hear his daddy screaming. Even at seven my heart was that boys’. Looking back, every memory I have has a piece of him. Living without him never seemed like an option.

Part One:

“He’s more myself than I am, whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. – Emily Bronte

Chapter 1

Ember

11 years old

“Ember promise me. Promise me you’ll go home and won’t come back. Promise me right now!” Hale screams, pushing my long brown locks back from my face. “Promise me or I’m going to tell your Nan it was you that stole ole’ man Barker’s pecans.” “I promise Hale, I pinky swear it,” I nod my head, screaming back. It seems impossible to make a promise like that, to just leave him here all alone, but he never yells at me, and I know he means it. I turn and run back to Nana’s as fast as my trembling body can carry me, flying through the front door, tripping up the stairs, the sweat running soaking my old t-shirt. I run towards the window facing Hale’s house, hoping he gives me our sign soon. I’m scared, but I promised, I pinky swore. We never break our promises.

I’ve lived next to Hale Jarreau for as long as I can remember. He moved in the summer before first grade, all the way from Michigan. He was all boy: front teeth missing, and dark hair constantly falling in his eyes. The first thing he ever said to me was, “Hey sweet girl,” grinning that toothless smile. Nan said he was the most charming little boy from here to New Orleans. We’ve been best friends ever since the day I fell out of Nana’s tree and broke my arm. He ran to me and held my hand, telling me that big girls don’t cry. It seemed like since that day, Hale has been a permanent part of my life. His dad has been a drunk ever since his mama died last year, so he eats dinner with us at least three times a week. I think if he didn’t sit at our dinner table, he would never get a proper meal. His daddy is a police officer with the department right up the street and works long hours, and when he is home he doesn’t pay Hale much attention. Seems like it’s always been that way and Nan’s got a soft spot for that boy and can’t tell him no for anything.

When I was two years old my mama and daddy died in a car accident on the way home from the grocery store. I wasn’t old enough to understand what really happened or why. I’ve lived with Nan ever since then; her and my pawpaw took me in without batting an eye. He passed away the summer before Hale moved in from a heart attack. Nan was sad for a long time after that, but one day she just got up and decided it was time to move on with her life; said she had to be there for me and then that night she took me for ice cream. Sometimes, when I’m getting ready for bed, she tells me stories of Mama and Daddy and Pawpaw. Right before Pawpaw passed away, him and Nan put me in the ballet class at the studio in town. He always said that I was the prettiest ballerina he’d ever seen. He never missed a recital or practice, driving from the town over just to make it. When he passed away, I didn’t like to dance for a while. Nan said I needed to be a strong girl and get out there and show Pawpaw how good I had gotten. She said every day he was looking down at me and I needed to make him proud. This year will be my sixth year dancing and I get to start with my toe shoes. Now Hale comes to all of my recitals and practices and he’s never missed one. He doesn’t care much that all the boys at school make fun of him for watching ballet, he comes because he knows how much I love to dance. I think part of it is he doesn’t want to be home with his daddy. He would rather be with Nan and me any day.

Once, I asked Hale why his daddy was so mean to him and why he yelled at him all the time. He told me, “I dunno Ember, I think he’s mad that he got stuck with me when mama died. I think he blames me for it.” It hurt my heart knowing that Hale thought that about his daddy. That day I grabbed his hand, and told him that no matter what I would always be his friend, and he could always come to Nan’s anytime he felt scared or wanted to get away from him.

Lately, Hale hasn’t been coming around as much. Today, when I knocked on his door, I heard his daddy screaming at him and when Hale came out he shut the door and grabbed my arm. Hurriedly, he pulled me down the stairs, “Em you can’t be here right now. My dad’s hollerin’ and I don’t want to piss him off anymore. You need to go back to Nan’s and do not come back here no matter what. I’ll come by tonight. Okay?” He whispers.

“Hale just come to Nan’s and eat dinner with us. Sneak out back, he won’t even notice you’re gone. C’mon.” Grabbing Hale’s hand, I start to pull him towards the house.

“Ember stop. I can’t, I need you to go home. Go. I promise I’ll come to you, but I need you to go.” I don’t understand what’s going on. “Promise me you’ll stay home Emmie,” he whispers.