Twisted Love: A Dark Romance Read online

  Twisted Love

  CM Wondrak

  © 2020 Candace Wondrak

  All Rights Reserved.

  Book cover by Victoria Schaefer at Eve’s Garden of Eden – A Cover Group

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  Chapter One – Tenley

  Chapter Two – Tenley

  Chapter Three – Tenley

  Chapter Four – Tenley

  Chapter Five – Enzo

  Chapter Six – Tenley

  Chapter Seven – Enzo

  Chapter Eight – Tenley

  Chapter Nine – Enzo

  Chapter Ten – Tenley

  Chapter Eleven – Tenley

  Chapter Twelve – Enzo

  Chapter Thirteen – Tenley

  Chapter Fourteen – Tenley

  Chapter Fifteen – Tenley

  Chapter Sixteen – Enzo

  Chapter One – Tenley

  Darkness, pure darkness, enveloped me, stifling out anything I might’ve seen. Maybe my eyes were shut and I didn’t realize it, or maybe I’d gone blind. Or maybe… just maybe this was something else.

  I opened my mouth to try to speak. Not to scream, for screaming was a sign of fear, and I was not afraid. This darkness, this invisible, black thing that constantly followed me everywhere—I was not frightened of it. The opposite, really.

  I welcomed it. The darkness felt like home. How fucked up was that?

  My aunt, Kayla, didn’t like it when I talked about it. I’d learned that early on, years ago. I’d been with her for just about ten years now, after the accident with my parents.

  You might think I meant a car accident. I didn’t. Kayla refused to talk about the incident as anything other than a horrible accident the police must be wrong about. Yes, even after all these years as my legal guardian, my aunt still believed that my father never could’ve done what the police said he did.

  Some days I wondered if darkness was in your blood. If you were capable of anything good when nothing but evil acts and horrid morals ran in your blood.

  I was eighteen now, old enough to know what happened with my parents wasn’t an accident. If I had to choose a side, pick between what Kayla believed and what the police said had happened, I’d agree with the police. The non-official term for what happened to my parents was a murder-suicide. I tried not to think about it.

  “Tenley!” My aunt’s voice came from the hall. She didn’t give me privacy; after a single knock she barged into my room and found me, still in bed, curled onto my side and staring at the wall. “If you don’t get up right this second, you’ll be late for school. Again.” When I made no moves to, well, move, she added, “Get your butt up and get yourself in gear. You don’t have much more school left.”

  Ah, the ever-present reminder that soon enough, I would be thrown out into the real world, no longer a high school student, forced to pick a major and go to college and drown myself in loans because Kayla was basically a single mother to me, and had been since she was twenty-five.

  Some days I think she hated me, because I stole her early years of adulthood. She’d been living in an apartment when it happened, though I don’t remember much of that. A lot of my childhood was… just a black slate in my head, but that’s neither here nor there. After the apartment, she found a foreclosed house in the neighborhood and bought it on her vet-tech salary. Instead of going out and hooking up and partying, instead of living it up like her friends had, she’d had to take care of me.

  Kayla was nice enough. Thirty-five years old now, she was my father’s younger sister, by quite a few years. I couldn’t really remember a time when she was only an aunt to me and not a mother-figure-wannabe. She was always in her vet smocks, her dirty blonde hair never straightened and always kinky. Some days she applied the barest hints of eyeshadow and eyeliner to her green eyes, but today was not one of those days.

  When I lay in bed longer, she blinked at me, sending me a frown. “Get up. If I have to walk you into that school one more time and explain to the office staff why you’re late yet again, I think I’ll die of embarrassment.” Saying nothing else, she left my room.

  I was slow to sit up, running my hands through my hair. It was a much lighter blonde than Kayla’s, so light I was told it was the perfect shade to tone to a white or a light, silvery grey, but I didn’t care too much about looks. Not really.

  Here’s where I tell you I wasn’t like other girls, and cue all the eye-rolling that followed statements like that nowadays. When girls said that, they were usually proud to be different from the preppy cheerleaders or the girls who got around with any guy who’d pull their pants down for them. Being proud of who you were was one thing, but being proud of reading books and preferring hoodies and baggy sweatpants to tight leggings? That wasn’t really a personality trait.

  The thing was: I wasn’t like other girls, but I wasn’t like guys my age, either. I would blame it on what happened when I was eight, my father shooting my mother and killing himself shortly after, but it wasn’t like I was there at the time. I had no memory of it. I didn’t see their corpses or their blood or anything like that.

  No, when I said I wasn’t like other girls, I meant it in a different way. Sometimes I didn’t think my head processed things right, that I’d end up like my parents. Deader than a doornail.

  This morning was not the time to lose myself in my head—an easy feat, for me. I had to get up and go to school. As much as I hated it, Kayla was right. Only a few more months to go, then I’d graduate, and the next step of my life would begin.

  Kayla had forced me to apply to quite a few colleges in the nearby area, telling me it’d be way cheaper to do two years at the local community college before actually going to whichever school I wanted, and she was right. It’s probably what I’d end up doing, even though I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.

  Having eighteen-year-olds decide their futures? Not smart. Who the hell really knew what they wanted to do with their lives when they were eighteen? Not me.

  I lugged myself out of bed. It took me about fifteen minutes to get ready. I showered at night, so all I really had to do was slap on some deodorant and brush my teeth and change. I chose dark jeans that were torn at the knees—something our school dress code was against, but no one ever got in trouble—along with a simple V-neck shirt.

  Black, because that’s what most of the shirts in my closet were.

  No makeup. Nothing fancy done to my blonde hair. My eyes were already such a light blue that anytime makeup touched them, they looked almost fake in their brightness. I got a lot of compliments on them, and I hated it.

  When attention was on me? Definitely hated it.

  I had my backpack over my shoulder as I walked down the stairs, meeting Kayla in the kitchen. She was bent over the counter, her shoes already on, keys in her hand as she scrolled on her phone, waiting for me. Glancing up, she gave me a quick once-over before asking, “Breakfast?”

  I shook my head.

  “Right. You never eat,” she muttered with a sigh. Without saying another word, she grabbed her phone and we left the house.

  Banner High was your typical American high school. The main building might look shiny and new on the outside, but they
only cared about the scores on those stupid standardized tests they made the tenth graders take every year. Big on sports, too. We had a huge track in the back, along with a baseball field and a football field, all of it kept up with because, heaven forbid, we looked like we didn’t care about sports.

  I know. This was America. Sports mattered more than everything, or at least that’s how it seemed sometimes.

  Kayla dropped me off near the front doors, in a long line of cars doing the same. The high school had enough money to take care of its fields and its grounds, but it did not have the money to pay for busing for the high schoolers. Don’t get me wrong, most seniors had their own cars by the time they turned eighteen. Most were nothing but rusty beaters, but if they got you from point A to point B, that’s all that mattered.

  Me? I’d probably wait until the last minute to find a car, and hopefully I’d find it cheap. Kayla never seemed too thrilled when I mentioned finding a part-time job somewhere. If she was home being miserable all night and every weekend, I had to, too. It was a boring life, but it was mine.

  Yippee.

  I walked into the school, keeping my head down. It was at that weird time of the year when you could get away with not wearing a jacket; you’d only be a little chilly. I hated jackets. Too puffy. Even hoodies weren’t my thing. The other students were a mix of half and half; half wore something, while the others pretended the cold didn’t bother them.

  It didn’t bother me, though. It really didn’t.

  The halls were buzzing with chatter, as they were every morning. A lot of the students at Banner High waited until the last possible second to head to their homerooms, preferring to spend as much time as they could with their friends or trying to get a glance at their crushes. It was all so trivial to me, though.

  I’d been homeschooled for a while, yet another reason Kayla probably hated me, for it had required a lot of time out of her schedule to make sure I was keeping on track. I didn’t go to school until sixth grade, Banner Junior High. Six years ago. Frankly, I hardly remembered anything about homeschooling, except that it was nice, not having to worry about seeing other people.

  Other people were fine, I guess, but it was so much easier to be alone.

  As I walked to my locker, everyone ignored me. That’s usually what they did. I wasn’t popular, and I wasn’t one of the so-called emos or bandos or whoever else was on the hit list of the popular squad. I was just me, Tenley Goddard, and that… that meant I was next to invisible. The ones that saw past my invisibility usually got weirded out and stopped trying to talk to me; everyone except Aubree, who currently waited for me at my locker.

  Aubree was nice enough. A friend, I guess, the only one who talked to me daily at school. We sat with each other at lunch, had a few classes together. She’d been trying to hang out with me on weekends and such, but I always managed to come up with some excuse—even if, sometimes, I did wonder what it would be like to go to one of the parties that dominated school gossip on Mondays.

  You see, unlike me, Aubree had the strong urge to try to fit in, and she happened to have a crush on the biggest jock that walked these halls, Kyle Sturgis. She was about as much of an outcast as I was.

  Aubree’s brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail, a few curly strands having already escaped her half-assed attempt at a hairdo. She wore a long-sleeved shirt, and she unconsciously tugged at the sleeves every few minutes. When she saw me, her hazel eyes lit up, a smile drawing along her lips. She was pretty; prettier than I was, I think, but even her looks could not undo what had happened to make her the social pariah she was at Banner High.

  A few years back, she cut her wrists. It was before her time as my friend, so I didn’t know all of the details. I never pressed her on it, but I guess what should’ve been just an exercise in self-mutilation had turned into what her parents believed was an attempt at her own life. And so the rumors flew in Banner High. It was old news now, old, ancient gossip no one brought up but everyone knew.

  Aubree stepped aside to let me get at my locker, speaking quietly, “Hey. How was your weekend?”

  I shrugged, saying nothing. The answer was the same as it always was, but that didn’t stop Aubree from asking, just in case it was different. Just in case I suddenly sprouted a life that she could either leech off of or join in.

  “Yeah,” she muttered, frowning to herself. Her bag was slung over her shoulders; she hadn’t gone to her locker yet, I assumed. “Mine sucked. My parents made me sit down and play Monopoly with them and my brother. Like, who the fuck plays Monopoly anymore? Even before the internet, I’m pretty sure that game was lame.”

  Busy getting stuff for my first few classes out, I didn’t pay much attention to her. I knew I wasn’t a good friend, but that was because I didn’t care to be. Never did. Everything was just so… inconsequential. In a few years, none of this would matter. Call me cynical, call me a realist, whatever.

  The bell was only a few minutes away from ringing, so Aubree heaved a sigh and pushed herself off the lockers near me. “I’ll see you in math.” She said nothing else as she walked off, and I turned my head to watch her go, wondering why she clung to me.

  It wasn’t like I would ever tell her to go fuck herself. Not sitting alone at lunch was nice, and on the rare occasions I felt like talking, she was there. We might not be besties, but having her was better than not having anyone, right?

  That’s what I told myself, what I would continue telling myself.

  Having a friend was normal.

  But I wasn’t normal. At least, I didn’t feel normal.

  The day passed in a blur, and soon enough lunchtime rolled around. Banner High had two different lunch periods, so you were never guaranteed to have it with your friends. The cafeteria was a well-lit space near the office with large windows and long, rectangular tables. Aubree and I sat off to the side, away from everyone else, in the corner of the room, near one of the halls that led out of the cafeteria.

  It was a good location to people watch, if you cared to do that. I tried not to stare too much at anyone else. Sometimes they stared back, and I didn’t like it. Being seen—it wasn’t something I wanted. I could only feel the darkness when I was alone.

  I was sure most of the other students thought I was weird. Tenley Goddard, the girl who lived with her aunt, the girl who never went out or dated. The girl who always kept quiet in class, even when the teachers called on her. I didn’t fit in here, but to be honest, I never really tried to, so maybe all of this was my fault.

  Aubree was busy opening a chocolate bar that she’d gotten from the school’s vending machine. I didn’t bring lunch; what Kayla had said was true. I hardly ate, but by now my body was used to skipping breakfast and lunch. Kayla forced me to eat dinner, and that was bad enough.

  “I can’t wait until graduation,” Aubree was busy rattling off. She took a bite out of her candy bar, chewing obnoxiously as she glanced around. Her eyes scanned the cafeteria for a few moments, eventually landing on someone. “I will miss staring at his sexy face every day, though.”

  Even though I was pretty sure I knew who she was talking about, I turned my head, following her line of sight. Kyle Sturgis, the big-muscled, preppy jock she’d been in love with since freshman year. Needless to say, he did not know she existed, and each day it killed her inside.

  He was cute enough, I guess. Blonde hair on his head, the sides shaved short while the top was a bit longer. Dark eyes that were usually accompanied by a smirk or a grin. He was loud, witty, and the teachers loved him. He was also the school’s star quarterback for the football team, worshipped every day, even though football season had ended a long time ago.

  I wanted to tell her something along the lines of: I’m sure there will be someone new you can obsess over, but I didn’t. To say something like that might only cause Aubree to further bug me about going to the same college she was.

  Every single time she brought it up, all I could think was, why would I want to room with her? Why would
I want to smile and pretend everything was good for me? It wasn’t, and, truly, I only felt at ease in my bed, with the blinds shut and nothing but the darkness of the night around me.

  Some might hate the night, it’s pitch-blackness… but I didn’t. I couldn’t. The darkness was home to me, and it was something none of these other kids would understand. I’d tried to explain it to Aubree once, but she’d acted as if I was speaking another language, so I’d stopped, never bringing it up again.

  Some people would never understand it, no matter how you tried to explain it.

  The darkness was my only real friend.

  “I heard Mrs. Johnson is assigning a project today,” Aubree went on, cutting into my thoughts. “Something about choosing your favorite American author and making a presentation about it.”

  I made a noncommittal noise, because I wasn’t invested in this conversation at all.

  Aubree stared at me like I was missing something. And that’s because, apparently, I was. We had language arts together, but she and I were not the only ones in that class. I’d give you one guess as to who else was in it.

  Yep. Kyle Sturgis.

  “She chooses the pairs,” Aubree said, flicking her eyes over to Kyle again, who was busy laughing and talking with his friends, acting as if we didn’t exist. Because we didn’t, not to him. “How amazing would it be if she paired me up with him? I think I’d freak the fuck out.”

  Honestly, I tuned out. There was nothing worse than group projects other than projects where you were only working in pairs. They forced you to talk, to work with someone else, to be social. More pressure was put on your shoulders when it was just you and someone else. Ugh. I could not dread this afternoon’s class more, even if Aubree was itching to get there, in the hopes Mrs. Johnson would pair them together.

  “Good luck with that,” I finally said, watching her finish chowing down on her candy bar.