Shattered Krystal Read online

  Shattered Krystal

  by Claire Lalique

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  Acknowledgements

  SHATTERED KRYSTAL

  Copyright © 2017 Claire Lalique

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Quill & Ink 2017

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Cover designed by Nerdy Girl Graphics.

  Dedicated to EVERY SINGLE READER I have. Without you there would be no reason to write.

  Chapter 1

  Krystal

  If I had only known what was going to happen to Donna and me when we decided to go back to the ravine that day, the day when all the bad stuff happened to us. That was the day I lost my best friend, the day I quit talking, and the day when I realized my mom didn't care about anything but herself, certainly not me.

  However, this was also the day my Samuel Blue found me, and that ended up changing my life forever although, I didn't realize it at the time.

  The ravine behind the Riverside Trailer Park was an important part of my childhood. Back then, around eight years ago, my best friend Donna McDonald and I had fun playing amongst the scrub pines and undergrowth in the ravine. To the other kids who lived in Riverside, the ravine was just an overgrowth of trashy bushes and pine trees. It was dusty and dirty, except down the middle where a bad smelling trickle of water ran. Thinking back, that water could have been pure waste, but more likely it was gray water.

  Gray water is what we called the water that drained from a washing machine during it’s cycle. The septic system couldn't handle all that extra water. On rainy days there would always be complaints about toilets overflowing. There was always the scent of feces wafting in the air. Since the trailer park manager charged an extra fifty bucks for a hooked up washer, most people didn't bother. When they washed their clothes they just put the drain hose out the nearest window. That’s why the ground behind the trailers of people who had washing machines was always wet and soggy.

  Donna and I would pretend that trickle of water in the ravine was a river of surpassing beauty and purity. We would pretend to be wood sprites taking care of our forest and all the animals that lived there. We also played FBI agents, fearless and brave, hunting down ruthless criminals, or Indians tracking deer through the forest. Although, that was harder because we knew Indian maidens didn't hunt.

  For the most part, I was reasonably happy growing up. As I said mom and I lived in Riverside Trailer Homes. It was one of the worse places to live in the west end of Louisville. The west end was the bad end of town as far as most Louisville residents were concerned. Even in the west end there were divisions of social status. Riverside Trailer Homes was absolutely the lowest of the low. I always joked with Donna that there should be another sign hanging from the main sign to Riverside. It would read, “Abandon hope all ye who enter here”.

  The kids at school teased me because of where I lived and because my clothes were ragged and not always clean, but I didn't pay attention. I would day dream and draw little doodles in my notebooks. I didn't care what other people thought. I figured I couldn't change where I lived or what I wore, so why worry.

  Donna was my one true friend and we had done everything together since the day we first met. We were alike in so many ways. We were both extremely smart, even though we lived where ‘extremely smart’ wasn't particularly useful. We had a vision of what we might become if we worked hard. We had no desire to work at the Galaxy Bowling Alley or the Riverside turkey processing plant where most of the parents we knew worked.

  I had met Donna when we were both 10 years old, when her family moved to Riverside. We were in the same grade and because both our names started with ‘Mc’; we always sat next to each other during homeroom, lunch, and any other classes we had together.

  Donna’s family didn't belong in Riverside. Her dad was disabled from a work injury and they had to move their trailer off their own land when the bank foreclosed on the mortgage. The trailer where they lived belonged to them. They didn't rent it from the trailer park like most of us did. Mr. McDonald worked hard to do repairs on their trailer when they were needed and both he and Mrs. McDonald kept the yard clean with pots of flowers on the steps up to the porch.

  Mrs. McDonald worked, but she was always there at night and she treated me just like she did Donna. She scolded us when we didn't do our homework and she made dinners for us.

  Their trailer always smelled good, like cinnamon and sugar or pizza sauce and burnt cheese. I would never have admitted it then, but I preferred spending the night with Donna rather than at home, where I was usually alone all night.

  Back then, I knew my mom loved me, though her mind was always preoccupied with feeding me, paying rent, and buying me clothes and shoes for the winter. Some years it was October before I could switch from the $1.99 flip flops to the $5.99 tennis shoes we bought at the Dollar General store. I didn't always have a winter coat and gloves either, but I made do with sweaters and hoodies, and socks on my hands for mittens.

  When I was born, my mom named me Krystal Flower McKenzie. She said she wanted me to have a beautiful name; one that matched how beautiful I was. Back then, other kids teased me about my name, but I loved it and thought it was special, a name like a princess might have. I still think it is a beautiful name.

  My mom used to tell me all the time how pretty I was, but as I got older the boys at school never asked me on dates. I figured at the time, the boys saw me as a tiny kid and just weren't interested.

  My hair is just that ordinary light brown color. Nothing special. Whenever mom had been drinking, she would always tell her current boyfriend that my hair was the color of lite beer. Then she always laughed, loudly, and said it was because I was such a light weight. As I got older this would embarrass me but I didn't know how to tell her to quit, especially since she only said things like that when she was more than a little drunk.

  I was born prematurely, and had been tiny my whole life. At 17, almost 18, I still didn't weigh 100 lbs. I was barely 5 feet 1 inch tall. I always figured I wouldn't grow any taller or wider. I was stuck being treated like everyone’s baby sister.

  My eyes were a boring grey, and I always thought they were too large, like I hadn't grown into them and they were deep set under dark brown eyebrows. Like I said, I am tiny-I do have boobs but no one notices. I look like a kid no matter how I try to dress like I am older.

  I always thought Donna was the pretty one. She was a little pudgy, but it gave her a soft look like she'd be a soft pillow you could hug or squeeze. Boys liked her; she was always being asked on dates, but she usually turned them down.
When I asked her why she didn't date, she always said that her education was more important.

  Since Donna and I were going to have our graduation from high school the next day, so we decided we wanted to get together and ‘play’ in the ravine once more. It would give us a chance to connect one last time before we turned 18 and were ‘grown-ups’ and our lives went in different directions.

  On that day, I was waiting for Donna and I hadn't decided for certain what I wanted to do next in my life. We were both National Merit Scholars and therefore we had a free ride to any Kentucky university. I wanted to get a degree in art, but my mom kept telling me it was a waste of time. She thought I should do something practical, maybe in the medical field. That sounded so boring to me.

  Donna had always been sure of what she was going to do. She was planning on getting her degree in special education. Her brother was autistic and she always wanted to be a special education teacher so she could help children like him.

  I admired Donna so much. She had her goals set and knew exactly what she wanted to do. To be honest, the only reason I had done so well in school was because Donna pulled me behind her the entire way. She would tutor me in math and German, she said, because she didn't want to be in AP classes without me beside her.

  We wanted this day to be special. Donna and I knew our time together would be ending. She was going to the University of Kentucky, in a different city. I was probably going to stay right here and go to the community college.

  So, Donna and I had a plan to take a walk in our old ravine to check out the old shed we had used as our clubhouse. We wanted to remember all the fun we had in the past, and talk about our plans for the future.

  I was sitting there on the rickety front steps of mom’s trailer waiting for Donna to show up. About a year ago, Donna’s dad finally got disability and they were able to move their trailer out of the trailer park to a small plot of land they had bought.

  Donna and I had already quit spending as much time together and it had been almost three years since we played in the ravine. We wanted to go to the clubhouse, specifically because we thought that our journals from when we were kids might still be there.

  Samuel

  I was almost through the police academy, and I had one year left before I graduated from the University of Louisville with a degree in Criminal Justice. I was also considered the up and coming rookie in my police academy class. I was only 24, but I had a plan for my life, and I was sticking to it. I wanted to be someone that mattered. The other guys in my class laughed at me when I turned down their invitations to go out to the bars and clubs. I didn't really drink and women would just be a distraction to what I wanted to become.

  It’s not that I didn't date women, I just took relationships more seriously than a one-night stand. I needed to be the controlling partner in a relationship, I am very possessive of the women I date. I want them to know deep in their bones that I would always have their best interests in my heart and that I would always be their protector. That just didn't match with casual hook ups. I knew some day I'd meet the ‘right girl’ and I figured we would recognize that connection between us immediately.

  I think it is obvious that I am a little older than most of the people in my college classes. I had to take off a few semesters to work for living expenses. This was part of me having a need for being in control. I didn't want to owe thousands and thousands of dollars to a bank or the government by the time I graduated. I didn't want to owe anybody money or for them to have the right to tell me what to do.

  When I was accepted into the police academy, I dropped to part-time college classes, so I had time to do the training required for the academy. This wasn't a problem for me. I would complete my plan of graduating college and becoming a police officer, all in good time.

  My family wasn't poor, but I had 6 siblings, and it was always known that we had to make our own way in order to be successful. Being smack dab in the middle meant I wasn't one of the older kids that got more attention from my parents since there were fewer kids vying for that attention. I also wasn't one of the younger ones who had the added attention of my older siblings either. I was closest to my sister Maeve, the next oldest up from me. My two oldest brothers, Phillip and Steve, mostly ignored me. That was a relief as the ‘littles, as we called them, were constantly in my face. Jackson, Adam and Josh, who shared a room with me before I turned eighteen and moved out, would tear the room apart, leave it torn up, and then “borrow” my things. I rarely got anything back, at least not in salvageable condition.

  I knew it was part of being in a large family of mostly boys, but when I moved into my own place, that first night I just sat on my couch and felt at peace. Maybe for the first time in my life I felt in control of my destiny.

  I decided to become a cop when I was young. I liked the idea that police officers were the people who protected the community from the bad guys. However, as I got older I realized that I didn't want to just be a neighborhood cop satisfied to work at the precinct, not planning on going any farther than Sergeant. That’s what my father had done. He was happy at the precinct, but I wanted to rise to where I could affect real policy and change in the community. I felt that the racial tension and other problems in our city could be helped more with new ideas and some younger blood.

  One afternoon, my instructor at the academy asked if I wanted to go observe a special mission. Our cops, in conjunction with the ATF, were going to take down a gang of bikers that were running guns and drugs from Mexico. He said if this gang could be shut down, half the gun and drug trade in Louisville would disappear. My job would basically be as an observer and gopher, carrying messages and being an extra pair of hands. I couldn’t pass up an opportunity for life and work experience, so I agreed.

  Krystal

  My friend Donna finally showed up, bubbling over with plans, as always. “Krystal, once we walk the ravine, let's go to A&W for root beer floats, and then to Krispy Kreme for a donut! Then we can say we've done everything we always enjoyed doing when we were younger. Who knows when we'll get a chance like this again!”

  I happily agreed with her, and then we plunged into the undergrowth and trees of our ravine. The trails we had made by being in the ravine day after day when we were children were no longer quite so clear. We were again fearless hunters, as laughing, we wove through the green mass of weeds and debris towards the old shed.

  It wasn't as hot and humid as the day we had originally discovered the old shed at the end of the ravine back when we were twelve. The shed was broken down and dirty, but to the girls we were, it was a treasure. We had immediately claimed it as our clubhouse. Our secret journals were kept there, along with snacks and flashlights, in case we ever had to hide during a catastrophic event like WW3, a tornado, or just a gloomy afternoon.

  When we got to the shed we looked at each other in amazement! The old door was opened, but had big heavy padlocks hanging from it. The windows were covered on the inside with black garbage bags taped to the frames and heavy mesh screens were bolted to the windows on the outside. Obviously, someone had claimed our shed and probably for no legitimate purpose.

  We realized immediately that we needed to get out of there before anyone saw us. We needed to go back the way we came and get out of the ravine as quickly as possible. Our neighborhood was not the best, as I said, and whatever was going on was not something we wanted to know anything about. I started to turn when suddenly a large smelly dirty hand grabbed my hair, pulling me up onto my tiptoes! He also grabbed Donna's ponytail, wrapping it around his other hand.

  Time seemed to stop. The cicadas quit droning, the birds were still, and then Donna and I both screamed with such a piercing shriek I thought it could have been heard the next county over. I never realized I could scream so loudly, it felt like something in my throat had broken in pieces.

  The heavyset man who grabbed us had a big belly that hung over his dirty dungarees, and he had on what I recognized as a vest of the Rattler Kings. They
were the local bad guys motorcycle gang. My mom had spent my whole life telling me to never get near them, that they were dangerous. Of course, I already knew what all the other girls in the trailer park knew. I had heard the whispered stories about women who'd been seen with a Rattler, and then were never seen again. Some people whispered they had their hands in the sex trade.

  The man dragged us into the muddy clearing, yelling in a deep voice, "Jag! look whut I foun’! Fresh meat, and if I ain't mistaken, pure as the day they was born! Two pure pink pussies just for us!” Those words terrified me. I knew then there was going to be no easy way out of this situation.

  Another man came out of the shed. He scared me even worse than the first man, if that was possible. I knew Donna and I were in a very dangerous situation, and the chances of us escaping without harm was unlikely. I kept praying that somebody in this mess would just let us go.

  The second man, Jag, was huge, at least a foot taller than our present captor. Jag’s face was covered with old acne scars; his hair was greasy and limp against his skull. His neck had a ring of ground in dirt and grime, which I guessed said something about his hygiene habits. I almost giggled, I couldn't believe I was concerned about how clean he was, as if that made a difference in what he might do to us, or worse, how he killed us.

  This man ‘Jag’ leaned over and spit a stream of brown smelly liquid chewing tobacco out of the corner of his mouth. Donna was moaning and crying. Jag looked at us, sighed, came over and without warning and punched Donna in the stomach. “Shut up”, he growled.

  Donna went limp and was quiet for the first time since we'd been taken. I thought she might be unconscious. He turned to me, raised his fist, and yelled "How long you two been around here listening, bitch, whatcha know about us?"

  I stammered and whispered, “We haven't been around at all. We were just walking. I don't know anything, I promise. We won't say anything. Please let us go!"

  Jag gave a short vicious laugh and motioned to our other captor to bring us into the shed. It was dim and dirty and smelled of coal oil lamps and dirty sweat and body odor. I was afraid as I had ever been in my life. I couldn't stop shaking though I kept telling my body to stop.