Love Lies Bleeding
A Silver Publishing Book
Love Lies Bleeding
Copyright © 2013 by Remmy Duchene
E-book ISBN: 9781614959472
First E-book Publication: June 2013
Cover design by Reese Dante
Editor: Jamie D. Rose
Logo copyright © 2012 by Silver Publishing
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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This book is written in Canadian English.
PUBLISHER
www.SPSilverPublishing.com
Note from the Publisher
Dear Reader,
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http://www.spsilverpublishing.com
Dedication
To my wonderful Venus—I miss you terribly.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Rolex:
Rolex Watch USA Inc
CNN:
Cable News Network Inc
Google:
Google Inc
Hawaii Five-0
: CBS Studios Inc.
Skype:
Skype Corporation
Hallmark
: Hallmark Licensing LLC
Jane Eyre:
Charlotte Bronte
The Raven:
Edgar Allen Poe
Baby-Baby-Baby
: written by L.A. Reid, Babyface, Daryl Simmons
NYU
: New York University not-for-profit Corporation
CNN
: Cable News Network, Inc. Corporation
Hallelujah
: written by Leonard Cohen
Prologue
He sat in the front row watching everything. Half the time he got so confused, he felt as though someone had blindfolded him, whacked him over the head, spun him around, then turned out all the lights. Law terms were new to him and he had no idea what most of them meant. When each person took the stand, he would watch their faces. Most cried—others looked stone cold. He remembered opening the freezer when he was younger and seeing white smoke coming from it. The people lacked any form of emotion and in their coldness, he could see the same kind of white smoke emanating from them. One woman peered at him through beady eyes, sending a shiver or something nasty down his spine.
The little boy exhaled out his mouth in a noisy
whoosh
because his chest was tightening.
The courtroom smelled like doom. There was no other way to describe the stench swirling around the room. Lawyers gave off that smell—bottom feeders—those who seek to get what they want and to hell with everyone else. The little boy took a breath and leaned forward in his seat. He never took his eyes off the judge, who had been sitting silently since the defence rested. It was as though he was in deep concentration, but the little boy knew better. As young as he was, he could still see the judge's utter disappointment and the robed man looked outright at his wit's end.
The judge's shoulders lifted and fell heavily while he shuffled the papers before him. He pressed his eyes closed then lifted his gaze to browse the courtroom. "This case has tested me. There are so many things in it that leave a bad aftertaste. I don't know what is more disturbing, the abuse or the fact no one here is willing to take responsibility. As much as I would love to do what my heart is telling me, I have to do what the law dictates. I've listened to both parties and the child, and I am now rendering the following decision."
He didn't know what render meant but the little boy was very sure it was all bad. His little body shook slightly and though he was now painfully twisting his fingers, he couldn't stop. He needed something to keep his mind off the hammer about to drop.
"The law dictates I must do what is in the best interest of the minor. I have to make a decision based on what will give him the best chance of recuperation and life. I cannot make a decision on the property you two are arguing over. That is not my jurisdiction. What is in my jurisdiction is the welfare of this child. I hereby order the he be remanded to the state…"
The little boy felt his world end then. The judge kept speaking but he was too numb. All he heard was a dull, throbbing sound. Eventually someone took his hand and pulled him from the seat and shoved him into a car. There was a flurry of activities but he just couldn't wrap his mind around any of it. Something banged atop him but still he sat, head down, fingers clenched tightly, and eyes glazed over. He wasn't sure what it was and since it caused no physical pain, he didn't care.
The days seemed to melt into one big night and eventually they found him a foster home. He would sit in a corner, silently. Each day blended into another—then another—and soon he'd lost track of time. From time to time he'd hear a bit of the conversations around him and it was always the same.
"He hasn't said a word since he got here."
"Nothing? How do you know he's hungry?"
"I don't. I just put the food out and when he's hungry, he eats. But it's been three months and nothing."
"Maybe it's a phase."
"I doubt it… I've been begging someone to take him to therapy but the government doesn't care and we can't afford it…"
His eyes glazed over again and he hung his head lower.
Chapter One
Anderson sat up from the bench and exhaled. His body wasn't in the mood for a workout but he couldn't let that stop him. Since it was a little wet outside for a run, he had to settle for the university gym before anyone else got there. Reaching for his towel, he patted the back of his neck, then his face, and grabbed his water bottle. If he hurried, he would have enough time for a shower before he had to motor it back to his office and prepare for class. He was excited about the day, for he was teaching his students about the great masters of literature.
The thought spurred him through a quick shower, a stop for coffee, and a short climb to his office up the stairs. He never liked elevators, even on a good day.
The moment he walked into the office, his phone began ringing. Arching a brow, he grabbed it and dropped it between his head and shoulder.
"Hello?"
"Hi, son. I know you forget things."
Anderson laughed. "Hi, Dad. I remember our date for tonight."
Jazmon chuckled. "Yes, but will you in an hour?"
"Dad."
"I know. I know!"
Anderson spent a little time speaking with his father before glancing at the clock. He wanted to cry because now he was definitely late for his first lecture.
* * * *
Luckily his students didn't mind. He set up their attendance clicker questions and while they mused over the right answers, he got his slide show ready and grabbed his copy of
Jane Eyre
.
"Okay. Did everyone have a chance read the first chapter in
Jane Eyre
?" he called, glancing around the large lecture hall.
A few hands went up—more than he thought would. He smiled. "Good. Very good. First we're going to dissect the characters."
The class erupted in a lively discussion. Anderson loved that; he loved having his students participate and ask questions without the fear of being wrong.
"Jane, I don't like cavillers or questioners; besides, there is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent." Anderson read from his copy of the book. He looked up at the class and walked forward up one row. It was more to give them a chance to think on it, let it sink in. "Tell me what this means to you."
"She's been broken," one student hollered from the back.
Anderson turned. "Mikail, what do you mean by that?"
"Well. She seems to be a free-spirit—a person who thinks for herself—and they're basically telling Jane there was something wrong with her because she doesn't conform to what they believe in."