Title: Number Thirteen
Author: Bella Jewel
Expected Release Date: March 17, 2014
Genre: Dark Romance
**AUTHOR NOTE - This is NOT a BDSM Romance**
Synopsis
We're thirteen girls, captive, slave to our master.
A master we've never seen.
Obedience will become all we know in our shallow existence. It is the only emotion we're permitted to feel.
When we're bad, we're punished. When we're good, we're rewarded.
Our scars run deep. Yet we survive, because we have to...
because HE teaches us to.
All of us are special, we feel it with everything we are.
He has us for a reason, but it's a reason we don't know.
We've never seen his face, but we know that something deeply broken lies beneath the darkness. With every touch, with every punishment, we know it.
Then something changed.
He showed me who he truly is.
Now I want him.
I'll go against everything I know to be with him.
A monster.
My monster.
Loving him is a sin, but a sinner I am. I won't stop until I see every part of him. Even the parts he keeps locked deep down inside.
I am Number Thirteen, and this is my story.
No one said it was pretty, or right, but it's mine.
PROLOGUE
I didn’t want to come today, but Momma told me I had no choice. She said school
is for smart kids, and if I don’t go, then how am I ever going to get smart? I could
get smart, the man on the television tells me everything I need to know. But she
claims that I can’t make friends with the man on the television, that the only way to
make friends is to go to school. I could have told her that I don’t need friends to be
successful, but she’d only tell me I’m being silly.
So I came to school.
I didn’t tell her that there are bullies here, or that every day they push me around
and shove me into lockers. That would make me sound weak, and now that my dad
is working, and my brother is away because he didn’t like the school here, I’ve had
to become the man of the house. There’s no room for weakness.
Momma tells me bullies pick on the kids who are victims. I think she’s wrong. I’m
not a victim; I’m just a kid. They pick on me because I’m different. I don’t look at the
girls like they do; I don’t try to sneak out to parties. I’m only thirteen. I’m just there
to learn, then I go home and I take care of my family, because, I’m the man of the
house.
Like I said.
The shrill sound of the school bell ringing, tells me I’m late. I pick up into a jog,
rounding the corner and into the schoolyard. It’s a cool winter day, and I have
to pinch my coat together to stop it from flapping in the icy breeze. I can see the
students piling in the front doors, and I turn my jog into a run. I’m focusing so
heavily on the doors, that I don’t see them. A strong hand lashes out, catching hold of
my sleeve and tugging me into the alleyway that runs down beside my school.
I always knew this alley was dangerous.
My body is slammed against a hard wooden fence, and I set eyes on my bullies. Four
of them. They’re all bigger than me, all of them on the football team. They’re from a
few grades up, and they’ve just turned sixteen. The leader of the group, Marcel, steps
forward first. He scrunches his nose in disgust, as if I’ve just dragged myself out of
a gutter, as if I’m offending him. He leans in close, and I can smell cigarettes on his
breath.
Smoking is not cool.
“You’ve been trying to avoid me, Will. Did you really think you could hide at home
with Mommy, and never have to come out again?”
I stare at him, wondering why he chose me to pick on. I didn’t even know his name
until he flagged me down and shoved my head down a toilet six months ago. I was
just a kid, keeping my head down, studying and learning like I should. Now here
I am, pressed against a fence, wondering why they decided I was good enough to
take extra special effort to attack. I don’t bother answering him; it’ll only make him
worse. My answers won’t make a difference. If I answer, I’m wrong. If I don’t answer,
I’m wrong.
“Are you fucking mute, you little cunt?”
My body jerks. I hate that word, it’s so…vulgar. I let my eyes move to the four other
guys standing like protective pack animals around Marcel. I don’t know their names;
they’re not significant enough. The tall boy with orange hair looks nervous, like he
knows what’s about to happen could put him in a world of trouble - but he’s still
here, still making the choice to stay. The other two guys are stony faced, and fully
aware of their part in this attack.
I still don’t answer him. If I just let them beat me, it’ll go away quicker.
“You’re a freak, Will, do you know that?” Marcel hisses, leaning in closer.
Of course I know that. I wouldn’t be pinned against a fence if I didn’t know that.
Bullies are so dumb.
Marcel raises his fist, and brings it down over my face, cracking my nose so hard
blood spurts onto his shirt. I don’t cry out, because that’s what he wants, but the
pain radiating through my head is nearly enough to make me beg. Nearly. Marcel
takes hold of my shirt, and his grey eyes scan my face. He’s panting, as though I’ve
shoved him into an alley and challenged him. Like this is my fault. The world is
twisted like that, and it’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.
“You know,” he growls, locking eyes with me. “I heard my girl saying how handsome
you were the other day. Do you know how much it sucks to have my girl saying
that a freak is handsome? Especially a freak that’s only what? Thirteen years old?
Your dick would be no bigger than a tube of damned lipstick, yet she thinks you’re
handsome!”
I wouldn’t know how much it sucks to have a girl say that, because I don’t have a girl.
Again, bullies are dumb.
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