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Authors: Sierra Jaid


BOOK: Fear
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Sierra Jaid


Copyright 2013 © Sierra




All rights reserved.

Copyright 2013 ©
Sierra Jaid


No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior
written permission of the author, except in case of brief quotations embodied
in critical articles and reviews.




Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Author's Page






The rampant beats of her fearful little heart threatened to
betray the cover of darkness black as a night’s fickle soul she found for a

“Sarah, honey, stay in there.” A woman’s
frightened imploring slinked in through the dark. “No matter what happens, do
you hear?”

Sarah had only ever known this voice in caution and fear,
however the fume of terror it carried today was nothing as she had heard
before. Its echo magnified the weight of her own dread ten times, and so
burdened, all she could do was nod in answer.

There was no nook or cranny left in her room where her
desperation had not led her to seek a cloak of safety. She had once been small
enough to hide under a pile of clothes. But whatever place she had chosen to
scurry behind or beneath, a feeling of bone deep chill always followed her

Today, it found Sarah in her closet with beads of primal fear
running down her temples as a man’s foul oaths, quickly drawing closer, rose to
hulking bellows. Under its menace her back throbbed remembering the furious
lash of his anger it bore the last time.

She shut her eyes against his vile effusion.
her ears to render mute the approaching flounce of his heavy feet.
as always, both actions proved no protection against either threat.

A loud bang rent the air when the door to her room was kicked

“Where’s she?” The man snarled.

Within the darkened closet, Sarah heard no answer given. The
agony of unknown was weighing her down when a purposeful stalking pierced
through the dense silence. What followed was a gouging angry scrape of her bed
being violently shoved aside. Then a vicious, “Where?!” brutally jangled her
wadded nerves.

“Bradley, I
-” The woman, too,
faltered–years of abuse bridling her bravado.

“I’ve seen you

to her.” He hurled the
accusation. “Have you already taught the girl how t’ barter for the meat on her
bones? Don’t delude yourself even
’ a second, that
I know
’ of those countless bastards who come

’ your prime ass.”

The man’s drunken risqué scorched the girl cringing in the
blinding dark.

“That’s not true! Let go, Brad, please. You’re hurting me
The woman sobbed miserably.

To her earnest plea, the man growled, “You don’t know what hurt
is, yet.”

commenced from here,
punctuated only by the roars of this livid man and the howls of the frightened

A sudden thunderous slamming of the closet door against its
hinges sent Sarah cowering farther within its shallow depth.

Then she heard a fractured begging, “
rise from
somewhere very close.

The tenacious bond that existed between this woman and herself
wrenched tears of blood from Sarah’s heart. She could literally picture the
broken woman sliding down the closet door in abject loss.

Even paralysed with fear herself, knowing there was nothing she
could do to
Sarah wanted to stand beside the
woman, sharing her plight if nothing else. Only the knowledge that her being
discovered by this man would hurt the woman far more than any injury he
inflicted upon her person stopped Sarah from coming out in the open.

all you
do, beg! ‘M sick an’
of it.” His slur became

“You’re sick and tired?!” The woman spat scornfully as her
endurance finally snapped.

No.., no don’t.
Sarah nearly cried for her to keep
silent. Provocation of him had always ended things much worse. She prayed the
woman would not prod him further into bestiality.

Perhaps her prayer was taking longer to reach the Almighty,
since the dreaded happened.

Unwisely, the woman again shot back. “It’s you, who come
begging, harassing me for every last cent
earn working hard day and

“Shut up.” The man horridly ground the two words together.

She continued, unable to restrain the flood of resentment for
once. “You dare complain when you have done nothing to-”

The Fuck.
Up.” His voice turned

She refused to see the last of warning. “You have made us live
hell with you-”

Up. Shut... Up. Shut U…P!”

Everything went quiet as a cold grave.

A foreboding enveloped Sarah. Her eyes tried to spear through
the darkness. She took a step forward, but the long instilled fear shortly
locked her feet again. An icy dread began freezing her inside out. She prayed
the sanctuary of her closet remained forever.

But it was not the day for her asking.

The door flung open. Stark brightness infiltrated, and along
with it, a nefarious hand.

Dragged out and shoved hard to the floor when Sarah’s sight
adjusted to the light, a harrowing shriek tore from her.

Pool of blood, everywhere blood, and in the middle of this gory
sea lay her mother’s body, cold and lifeless.

Sarah seemed unable to stop screaming. This was the day of her
sixteenth birthday. An ironic, bitter initiation to an age vastly believed
sweet. The man, who had bestowed this gruesome, cruel gift upon her, was her
own inveterate drunkard of a father.



On defeated steps, two months past that tumultuous incident,
Sarah dismounted the stairs from her room and walked into her Grandma’s

Grandma Ruth turned from the hot stove.

At fifty-eight, rigours of life might have etched their mark,
but they hadn’t yet succeeded in erasing every trace of the striking woman she
had once been.

Ruth Carter understood it was still far too soon for the young
girl to accept the truth of what happened and make peace with it, but to see
the wound of the haunting past gaping so painfully open in her eyes was

“Oh, my poor child.”
Through the haze
of her own wet lashes a loving smile still touched her quivering mouth. Closing
the distance, she embraced her grand-daughter.

“A sweet girl like you can’t only know a life of tears.” Not a
doubt marred the indomitable faith she gathered from the ages in the white of
her hair. “That painful chapter of your life has closed. It ended with your
father. Bless the officer, who shot him before he could have taken you, too,
from me.” Her thoughts grew pensive and all colour left her face. “I shudder to
think what would have happened if one of the neighbours hadn’t called 911 on

Sarah wiped a stray tear from her Grandma’s cheek, bringing her
out from the pain of her loss.

Ruth looked at the precious girl before her. “I had already lost
a daughter to that
I couldn’t have survived
losing my precious grand-daughter, too.”

Adoringly she smoothed down a hand over Sarah’s braided hair
resting on one shoulder.

Light brown in colour, Ruth had seen them gleam as the purest
honey under the beaming rays of dawn. The peach hued sundress Sarah wore
gracefully evinced her feminine curves at the threshold of full bloom. Her face
was reflection of innocence itself. And her eyes, green as a Jade lost in the
deepest blue of the five Oceans, observed everyone with shy apprehension.

Sarah’s father might not have curtailed his vices from her, but
upon his own twisted logic he had sheltered his daughter from most other evils
of the world.

“Look how beautiful you have become. Like the first blossom of
Eden.” A twinkle sparked in her Grandma’s eyes. “And to mark this new beginning
of your life, I have a present for you.”

Moments later, a shiny silver charm bracelet graced Sarah’s
slender left wrist.

Ruth, however, didn’t see the joy a girl Sarah’s age took in a
bauble like this.

Oh, how effectively her worthless son-in-law had killed even a
hope of happiness from his daughter’s life. All this poor girl had ever known
was pain and fear.

“Don’t, sweetheart. Don’t just yet give up. This bracelet, it’ll
bring the love destined for you, you’ll see.
The love that’s
just waiting to gather you in its arms.”

“Thank you, Grandma.” Sarah whispered her gratitude.

She didn’t suffer from illusions of love and happiness but she
smiled nonetheless, unconsciously displaying the allure of two tiny dimples on
either side of her cheeks, to ease at least somewhat of her Grandma’s worrying
on her behalf.






Walking through the giant gates opened wide, Sarah watched a
colossal ‘WESTHIGH’ crowning one of the three buildings looming before her.

campus was empty,
except for the few early arrivals scattered here and there. They each
her way in open curiosity, making her nervously
fiddle with the charm bracelet her Grandma had gifted her that very morning.

Sarah had never found comfort standing out from the crowd. And
being the new girl at school was daunting.

Wanting to avoid their scrutiny, she decided to take a tour of
the school herself. It was far better than the school she transferred from in
Minneapolis, Minnesota. Every amenity–classrooms, gym, track, football-field,
indoor summing pool–of
, in the small town of
, located on the north-western part of
surreal Upper Michigan, could rival with the best of any big city moneyed

It was hard to believe this was all due to the goodwill of a
benefactor, who preferred to remain anonymous. Except for the few important
members on the School Trust Body, no one had even an inkling of who he might

Grandma had said, though the people of this town craved to know
his identity so they may get to personally thank and honour him for his
generosity, they also didn’t want to disrespect the man’s wish to continue
remaining nameless.


A heavy, dull noise interrupted Sarah’s expedition.







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