Chloe (Made Men #3) Read online

  Chloe

  Made Men, #3

  Sarah Brianne

  Contents

  Copyright

  CHLOE

  1. The Demon Had Come to Get Her

  2. Going Back in Time

  3. Does The Sight of Her Just Sicken You?

  4. How Does the Sight of Her Look to You Now?

  5. The One Word That Would Follow Her Forever: “Freak.”

  6. The Words That Would Forever be Ingrained in Her Soul

  7. Payback was a Bitch

  8. Burned by The Hand of Her Demon

  9. The Memory Banging at The Door

  10. I Can’t Tell If I’m Scared of You, Or If … You Just Became My New BFF

  11. Stuck Between Realities

  12. The Murder of Elle Buchanan

  13. So Help Me God

  14. Watching Your Best Friend Turn into A Monster

  15. Tick. Tock

  16. All Wounds Heal with Time

  17. The Last Grain of Sand Had Fallen

  18. The End or Just the Beginning

  19. That Was Pre-Pubescent Amo. Puberty Amo Will Be a Jerk

  20. …

  21. Going Back One More Time

  22. One Word: F.U.C.K.E.D

  23. I’ll Make You Regret That, Darlin’

  24. I’m Gonna Pass. I’m Not into Dick

  25. A Deal Was Struck

  26. He’s Clearly a Psychopath

  27. That Girl Needed to Find One of Two Things: A Nice Momma’s Boy or God

  28. Vincent Could Turn a Nun into a Whore

  29. The Sound of Sebastian Pissing Himself

  30. The Beast Might Not Be So Bad After All

  31. Yin and Yang

  32. The Backyard That Looked Absolutely Stunning

  33. He Was No Man. He Was the Boogieman

  34. When I Leave

  35. When You’re Sitting In California, and I’m Missing You

  36. That Way, He Knows I’m Really Gone … And I’m Not Coming Back

  37. A Choice Must Be Made

  38. I Can’t Be Fixed. Not by You, Not by Anyone. I’m Just Broken

  39. The Story Behind the Scar, The Story of Sadness, Grief, and Torture

  40. The Being Behind the Door

  41. The Moment

  The Moment

  Kristen McLean

  Behind The Marquess’s Mask

  Prologue

  1. London 1819

  Young Ink Press Publication

  YoungInkPress.com

  Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Brianne

  Edited by C&D Editing

  Cover Art by Young Ink Press

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if sexual situations, violence, drugs, child abuse, and explicit language offends you.

  WARNING: THIS BOOK ENDS ON A CLIFFHANGER.

  Connect with Sarah,

  [email protected]

  www.facebook.com/AuthorSarahBrianne

  @AuthorSarahBri

  CHLOE

  Made Men, #3

  One

  The Demon Had Come to Get Her

  Present Day

  Chloe stared at the blank, white wall in front of her bed, still clutching the jacket Amo had draped carefully across her shoulders earlier that night. Something about his jacket was keeping the demons at bay. Maybe it was the fact that it smelled like him, or maybe it was the warmth making her feel as if his arms were wrapped—

  Crack!

  The sound of broken bones greeted her ears as a baseball bat slammed down on a limp body, the image flashing on the wall in front of her for a split second.

  Coming back to reality, she almost forgot where her thoughts were heading. If she hadn’t inhaled Amo’s masculine scent coming from the expensive fabric, then that was where her mind would have gone. She started to think the jacket might have been soothing her, but she hadn’t experienced that feeling in a long time. The only reason she believed it was because her thoughts should be consumed right now by her horrors, making her watch the replay of tonight’s—

  Snap!

  Another flash of the bat making contact with the man’s leg, the man who lay practically lifeless on the floor, before the wall turned blank again.

  She ran her thumb over the fabric, not understanding why her body wouldn’t stay motionless like the million times it had before when her nightmares had played in front of her eyes.

  Gliding her thumb over the soft fabric again, she came to the conclusion that it felt as expensive as it—

  An evil pair of blue-green eyes stared back at her from the white wall, making her blood run cold. She watched him grip the neck of the bat with a force so intense she was positive it was going to shatter before the bat was brought down for its final time.

  Crunch!

  Amo’s jacket was no longer going to bring her out of her nightmarish dream.

  The demon had come to get her.

  Two

  Going Back in Time

  Four Years Earlier

  The stinging pain on her face and her sore body woke her, making her want to scream, but her throat was too dry. Not only did the room feel unfamiliar to her, but the sterile smell, as well. She couldn’t recall anything nor figure out where in the world she was, which made her feel as if she were heavily drugged.

  As she groggily tried to open her eyes, she saw everything in a blur. Then a figure moved into the space over her.

  “Chloe,” a male said before he laid his hand over her arm.

  The moment his masculine hand touched her skin, memories flooded her mind of the horrific crimes she had just endured, like she was going back in time to endure it all again.

  She tried desperately to scream, but it sounded weak, coming out as a hoarse whisper.

  When the pressure from the hand on her slightly increased, she began to kick and hit uncontrollably, unsure if she could survive the brutality she had just experienced once more.

  “It’s me, your father. Chloe, you’re safe now,” her father kept repeating quietly, trying to keep her calm.

  All she could think about was the hand on her arm, as if she were still experiencing the torturous touch from before.

  Only wanting it to stop, she was finally able to scream, “Let go of me!”

  Her father only held her down harder, using both hands.

  “Shh! You are safe … in the hospital,” he began, trying everything he could to keep her from drawing attention to the room.

  Hot tears spilled down her cheeks before the sound of shuffling feet echoed throughout the room, and even more hands began to hold her down.

  “Please, I can’t take anymore!” she cried.

  “She’s having a panic attack. Give her something!” her father quickly spit out before Chloe could say another word.

  Feeling a slight sting in her arm, Chloe started to lose the fight against them. Unfortunately, as her body became numb, her mind didn’t. She still felt her torturer’s hands on her instead of the people in this room.

  Looking past the nurses, she stared at the blank, white wall through the blur of her tears.

 
Please, I don’t want to be touched anymore.

  “S-Stop!” Chloe choked out for what felt like the hundredth time as hands held her down once more.

  The prick of the needle into her sore skin felt like nothing compared to the hands that gripped her. Her cheeks burned as tears fell, bringing her to the realization that she must have been crying in her sleep as she was never even awake for a full five minutes before they knocked her out again.

  As the drugs took over her body, her last thought was to wish they understood.

  The nurses, along with her father, thought she was screaming for them to stop drugging her, but she was just screaming for them to pull their hands off her body.

  The fuzziness in her brain started to ease as she woke. Chloe regained consciousness once more, having no idea how long she had been at the hospital or how many times she had woken up, only for it to end in screams and pain. This time, she lay unmoving, afraid to even open her eyes.

  The pain on her face had her wanting to relieve it.

  Don’t move.

  The memories of the man …

  Don’t cry.

  Chloe had to fight her instincts and to think smart about how to keep them from continuing to drug her. Otherwise, there will be nothing left of me … if there is anything left.

  Even with her eyes closed, she could feel a presence in the room, and considering her father had been there every time she had awakened, it was safe to say he was that presence. She wasn’t even sure if he had ever left the room, but the question was, why?

  Her father had wanted to talk, but the moment she’d become hysterical, he wouldn’t even give her a chance to cry it out, making her feel as if she were crazy.

  Why?

  Hearing a movement come from the far corner of the hospital room, she knew he was awake, so she decided to take the distance between them to her advantage.

  Chloe didn’t open her eyes as she began to open her mouth, afraid if she did, her hysteria would take over, and the cruel cycle would start again.

  “I-I don’t like to be touched anymore,” she whispered as best she could.

  She heard what sounded like her father starting to get up.

  A face flashed in her mind as she felt invisible hands wrap around her throat.

  “No!” Her eyes shot open to reveal the dim hospital room. Chloe took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice even, to remain calm. “Don’t come closer … please.”

  After a moment, her father sat back in his chair.

  The room was eerily quiet. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t asking her questions, wondering what had happened or, more importantly, who had done this to her.

  Does Dad already know? Is the man locked up forever?

  She figured she would start with that first.

  “You know what happened to me, don’t you?”

  The look on his worn out face gave her the answer.

  Her father held up his hands and slowly stood. “I’m not going to touch you. I just want to come closer. Is that all right?”

  Trying her best to stay strong, she nodded her head, holding her breath as he slowly walked toward her. She only slightly relaxed as he stood by the bed, making no attempts to touch her.

  He looked down upon her, taking in this new sight of his daughter.

  When her silent questions still went unanswered, she forced herself to whisper the words, “Did you catch him?”

  A bushy eyebrow rose as he stared at her blankly. “Catch who?”

  Shocked, Chloe blinked a few times, wondering if she were in a dream before the stinging on her face told her it wasn’t.

  “Who did this to me?” she choked out.

  “Chloe, you were in a car accident.” It sounded as if it were rehearsed.

  “There was no car—”

  “You were in a car wreck; that’s all you know.” His voice was calm and collected.

  Chloe began shaking her head violently, her eyes brimming with tears. “No, I wasn’t. He hurt—”

  “You were in a car wreck. No one hurt you.”

  “N-no!” she screamed as her cheeks started to burn again from the tears.

  “You were in a car wreck; that’s all you know. You were in a car wreck. No one hurt you.” He was beginning to sound hypnotic.

  Not only her head, but her body began to violently shake. “NO! NO! NO!”

  This time, a lone nurse came in the room with a needle, closing the door behind her.

  Her father stepped forward, holding her down, as Chloe tried to scream as loudly as her throat allowed, fighting off their hands as much as she could before the needle pricked her skin in the sore spot of her arm.

  He spoke over her with the same, melodic sound in his voice. “You were in a car wreck; that’s all you know. You were in a car wreck. No one hurt you …”

  Three

  Does The Sight of Her Just Sicken You?

  Sitting up in the hospital bed, she hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. She merely sat there, doing the same thing for hours: staring. The white wall in front of her was the only thing she stared at. It showed her past, her nightmares.

  I was in a car wreck.

  Hearing the click of kitten heels getting closer and closer to the door didn’t bring her out of her trance.

  A woman with short black hair and dressed in business attire entered the room. Not a hair on her head was out of place, and the pearls wrapped around her neck perfectly gleamed. It was the first time she had seen Chloe since the “accident,” so she took a few moments to look her over.

  “It’s a shame they—I mean, she got her face marked. I think we could use it to our advantage and turn this situation into something better.” Her beady eyes travelled down. “However, I think she should keep her arms covered; we don’t want people to feel too sorry for us.”

  That’s all I know.

  Turning, she walked toward Chloe’s father, who was staring out the window.

  “Why don’t you go home and get some rest, Maxwell? You look tired. I’ll go back to the office and keep taking care of everything. Let the nurses do their job.”

  Maxwell didn’t even turn to look at her. “Did you ever love our daughter, or does the sight of her just sicken you?”

  “We’ve talked about this.” Chloe’s mother sighed.

  Turning his head, he looked at her with disgust. “How does the sight of her look to you now?”

  I was in a car wreck.

  “Please don’t bring this up here in front of her.”

  “What do you see in her, Elaine? Your sister or the pride you lost in your womanhood when you found out you couldn’t have a child naturally?”

  “Yeah, well, I guess you picked the wrong sister,” Elaine huffed.

  Maxwell resumed staring out the window. “I know I did.”

  Elaine stormed off toward the door. “I would tell you to leave me for her, but you can thank your daughter for killing her.”

  The snap of the door closing had him looking away from the window to Chloe.

  A single tear had slid down her cheek.

  “Don’t listen to her.” He stood, going to her bedside and opening a medicine bottle.

  No one hurt me.

  He placed a little, white pill in the dip of a spoon and held it to her mouth. “This will make it all better.”

  Getting discharged should have made her happy, but those little, white pills the doctor had prescribed her wouldn’t let her feel much of anything. They weren’t making her a vegetable, unable to move, but they were making her feel hollow, like a shell.

  “Go get yourself cleaned up. I can still smell hospital all over you,” her mother spewed as she scrunched up her nose in distaste.

  Chloe headed toward the bathroom, turning the light on and closing the door behind her. She hadn’t realized it until now, but she had been avoiding mirrors for this exact moment in time.

  The high dose of medication might make her unable to feel, but the bile running up her throat was telling her
she should be feeling something.

  The right side of her face was still swollen with a slash marking her face from about two inches above her eyebrow all the way down to a now very hollow cheek. The other one was about an inch above and below the right side of her mouth. The marks were fresh and grotesque, flaming a bright red with dried up blood that faded out to red, pink, and rosy on her skin.

  Chloe moved her gaze down as she slowly removed the rest of her clothes. She had been so concerned with the pain in her face at the hospital she didn’t even noticed her arms shared their own markings.

  I was in a car wreck; that’s all I know. I was in a car wreck. No one hurt me.

  “I don’t hear the water running.” Her mother swung open the door to reveal Chloe looking at herself with tears in her eyes. Immediately, she stepped into the bathroom, closing the door and going straight to the bathtub to run the water. “Get in.”

  When Chloe didn’t move and just continued to stare at herself in shock, her mother raised her voice. “Chloe. Get. In.”

  Chloe’s glazed eyes moved to look at her mother’s in the mirror. “I can clean myself.” It had been years since her mother had bathed her. Even though her brain was hazy, she could remember how rough she had been bathed, making washcloths feel like Brillo pads. As soon as she had been able take showers, she had. However, that was before her “accident,” back when she could be touched.

  “Then do it without getting your stiches wet.”

  Quickly, she got into the freezing tub. Picking up the washcloth, she held it under the water to give herself a sponge bath.

  “You’re getting them wet …” Elaine advised harshly.

  She tried to be more careful, but by this point, her vision was too blurry from tears.