Graceful Scars Read online

  Graceful Scars Copyright © 2015 by Savannah Stewart

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission, except by a reviewer who may quote passages for review purposes only. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created fictitiously.

  Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs

  Photography: Lindee Robinson Photography

  Models: Mikeala Galli-Model & Anthony Hamelin

  Published by Savannah Stewart 129 Saddlebrook Drive Coxs Creek KY 40013

  Books by Savannah Stewart:

  Moments of Reckoning (standalone)

  Behind the Words Series

  (Can be read as standalones)

  Arianna

  Jayde

  Poppy

  Graceful Scars (standalone)

  Find the author at:

  http://www.authorsavannahs.com

  http://www.facebook.com/AuthorSavannahS

  http://www.goodreads.comAuthorSavannahS

  http://www.twitter.com/Savvy2287

  http://www.tsu.co/SavannahStewart

  “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”

  -Desmond Tutu

  Prologue

  Victim.

  The word bounced around in my head more times than I could count. I hated that word. There was nothing about it that made someone believe that they could overcome what has happened to them. It was weak, and made you feel exactly that. The room I was in was freezing, I was pretty sure it was close to Arctic temperatures, and the pungent smell of sterilizer was beginning to make me nauseous. My legs were hanging slightly off the end of the examination table on the inside of the stirrups that were attached for those horrid yearly exams. But that time, I wasn’t there for a routine checkup.

  The silence was deafening as I stared up at the off-white ceiling tiles that had tiny black holes haphazardly throughout them. The first thought that came to mind was how cheap those things were. For such a high class, remodeled hospital, they sure cut the cost on those God-awful tiles. I had half a mind to tell the doctor about it when she came in to check me out. My interior design experience was rearing its ugly head at the oddest time.

  It felt like I had been laying there for an eternity, but time passes slowly when you are someplace you’d rather not be. The thin material of the so-called gown they made me put on wouldn’t keep a mouse warm if you wrapped the damn thing in all of the material they gave me, and it felt like sandpaper when it moved across my red angry skin. The first thing I had done afterwards was strip the remainder of my clothes off and turn the faucet to hot before throwing myself under the heavy mist of water that felt like it came straight from hell itself. My skin was boiling as I frantically attempted to scrub away the pain that was radiating throughout my entire body.

  I. Couldn’t. Get. Him. Off. Of. Me.

  A loud scream was echoing through the hospital that startled me, almost as much as the nurse busting through the door looking like a deer caught in headlights did. I couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying and my eyes wouldn’t focus completely on my surroundings, but as soon as her hands touched my arm it was like I was zapped full force back to reality. That’s when I realized the blood-curdling scream I was hearing was coming from me. Gasping for a steady breath I latched onto the nurse’s scrub shirt that was decorated with colorful owls, and felt the warmth of my tears begin to frantically run down my face.

  “Tegan…take a deep breath, hon.” The nurse was trying to coach me into breathing slowly. “That’s it. Now let it out slowly.” She smoothed her hand down my arm as I continued to follow her directions. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital. No one can hurt you here.” Her words were soft as I continued to follow her breathing instructions.

  A few minutes and many breaths later, the doctor came in. She introduced herself as Doctor Mary Graves. Giving me her full name, instead of Doctor Graves, it was that personable bullshit they do when something traumatic happens to you and they want you to believe they honestly care. Most don’t care, or at least that’s how I felt about them anyway.

  “Tegan, I want you to know that what happened to you was not your fault.” She took a seat on the small, spinning black stool that sat just inside the door in front of the exam table I was lying across.

  Cue the bullshit, part two.

  “Can we get this over with, please?” My voice sounded weak. Fragile and shaky…I absolutely hated it.

  Mary, as I will call her, gave me one of those looks…the ones that let you know someone is feeling sorry for you just because of that fucking look they give you. I hated that even more than the fact that my voice sounded like a small child that was upset about some little brat stealing their favorite doll from them. I sighed heavily as I diverted my eyes back up to the ceiling tiles.

  “We have to do an exam before you can leave. Since the police are the ones who brought you in, my hands are tied.”

  “Let’s get this over with then,” I said robotically as I slipped my legs into the stirrups and squeezed my eyes tightly shut.

  The sound of rubber gloves snapping onto her hands made me cringe. I tried to block out everything that was happening as she started asking me questions regarding my health. I knew it was the usual song and dance when it came to situations like this, but those questions were the last thing I wanted to answer at that moment.

  Chapter One

  Nine Months Later

  I flipped the lights on in the studio and stood there for a few seconds as they came to life, illuminating the semi-dark bamboo floors, giant mirrors, and wood railings. The back wall to my left had the studio logo painted big and bright across it. When I first opened the place I wanted my students to help me create something with love and passion, so I had them help me create that wall mural. Paint splatter was spread haphazardly across the center of the wall in bright neon red, orange, blue, green, pink, and yellow with large black words that read, “Graceful Moves” in an elegant script. But stepping back into this building for the first time in nine months brought back all the haunting memories of that night.

  At twenty-four years old I never thought I would be as successful as I was. Graceful Moves had been one of the top dance studios in the Chicago area for going on four years. Yet the feelings that were running through me at that moment were nowhere near pride. I walked into my office and dropped my bag on the floor beside the medium-sized metal desk. I had a little over an hour before my first group would start arriving and I had a ton of paperwork to go through before then. Adalynn, my assistant and renowned best friend, wasn’t coming in until later. She was my saving grace, and had been ever since I’d first decided to open the studio. Adalynn was my closest childhood friend and was a couple of grades ahead of me throughout school, but after she graduated she had moved away to attend college out of state. When I first opened Graceful Moves I had taken on every little business aspect on my own. After a few months I was about ready to pull my hair out when the dark-haired beauty came walking through the front doors sporting her usual witty grin. She had made some smartass remark about seeing an ad in the paper that stated I was in search of an assistant, which wasn’t true; she had actually heard it through the grapevine that I was about to flip my shit if someone didn’t step in and assist me with everything I had going on. After the incident happened, she took over the studio until I felt like it was time to come back to work.

  My family lived clear across the United States, just outside of Sacramento, California, so it wasn’t like I had them close where I could rely on their assistance when needed. My father was offered a higher-
up position with the company he had spent his life busting his ass for right after I had graduated so he and my mother jumped on the deal to take it and leave Chicago behind. Of course they begged me to go with, but I couldn’t up and leave. Chicago was my home, the only place I had ever known, and California sounded like a God-awful place to live to me. But there I was, thinking that if I had gone with them the life I had always known wouldn’t have been turned upside down and completely taken from me.

  I took a shaky breath and pushed the paperwork aside, it was just going to have to wait until later. My mind wasn’t fully back into working mode, and I was terrified I would screw the books up if I tried. Adalynn had tried to tell me I wasn’t ready to come back to work yet, but as usual…I didn’t listen. I took a deep, burning breath and pushed myself up from my desk. Sitting there until the students arrived wasn’t going to help me accomplish anything. I closed my office door and locked it, pushed a chair in front of it, and placed my bag in it. I quickly changed from my sweat pants and tank, into my leotard and ballet shoes. That day’s class was focusing on the basic steps of ballet, which owned my heart and soul. I zipped my bag and tossed it back beside my desk before moving the chair and opening my door again.

  My hands were shaking uncontrollably as each step I took pushed me closer to the center of the dance floor. All the mirrors around me were watching me move, like they were mocking my effort to try and begin again. Was I strong enough to pick up where I had left off? Was I ready to push past all the bullshit life had handed me and pick up the broken fucking pieces to create a complete puzzle again? I hadn’t the slightest clue, but I had to start somewhere, and dancing was my safe haven…or at least it used to be.

  I latched my now-sweaty hand onto the wooden ballet barre bolted to the wall before me and slowly moved my other arm up into the air. I needed to stretch, to warm my muscles up before I tried any form of dancing. Nine months was a long time to go without dancing when your life had pretty much depended on it from day one. I squatted a few times before kicking a leg up onto the barre, stretching and moving on to the other. After a few more stretching exercises I moved away from the barre, keeping my eyes aimed towards the floor so I wouldn’t take in my appearance in the wall of mirrors. I wasn’t ready to face myself in them, and thankfully I wouldn’t have to later while teaching class.

  My chest expanded as I drew in a full, deep breath and slowly exhaled it. I stood completely still in the center of the floor as my pulse thumped loudly within my ears. I can do this…I am strong, I will not be defeated, I said to myself as I took another deep breath. Pushing up onto my tip toes I began to move; the pull of my unused muscles felt good, refreshing even. As I pivoted and spun around, I allowed myself to leave all the sadness and pain that controlled my head behind. I allowed myself to feel. To really feel the way dancing took over my every emotion and pushed out everything negative. No pain, no grief, and no fear clouded me in that moment. I was free...from it all.

  As I continued to move, my muscles began to expand to meet my demands. The silence would usually be deafening, but the calmness that was taking over me kept the demons at bay. I moved from a simple stance to an arabesque and held my position; I absolutely adore an arabesque, as long as it was delivered properly. As my thighs began to burn I heard a loud banging noise that caused me to lose balance and fall onto my knees.

  “Shit!” I felt hands latch down onto my arms and I lost it. A loud scream ripped from my chest as I began to kick and hit the person who was trying to hold me.

  “Whoa…whoa…whoa!!!” The man yelled as I connected my right hook to his jaw and an Oomph followed. When his hands let go of me I quickly pushed myself back until I was flush against the wall of mirrors. My chest was rising and falling rapidly as I wrapped myself tightly in my own arms.

  “Please…” I said through my tears. “Oh, God, no… just leave me alone,” I choked on the last word as I gave in to my emotions and fell into a heaping mess on the floor.

  When those same hands touched me again, I surrendered and went limp. Feeling myself being lifted from the floor I closed off every ounce of emotion I had and squeezed my eyes as tightly shut as possible. If he was here to try and fully destroy me, there was nothing I could do about it. Lady Luck was on my side before…and she doesn’t come around twice. My blood was pumping loudly within my ears, making it hard to hear what he was saying, and for once in my life I was thankful for it.

  “I don’t know what to do…” I managed to make out as I felt my body being laid across a mat and the man’s hands disappeared. The voice sounded different, not like the one that I initially heard. Was my mind playing tricks on me?

  I robotically opened my eyes and found myself lying on a warm-up mat a few feet away from where I had been dancing. My nerves were getting the best of me and the fear that he was back in here had my stomach churning, but I slowly turned my head to see whose voice I kept hearing. His back was to me, but I instantly knew it wasn’t who I thought it had been. Sitting up just enough to brace myself with my elbow on my side I cleared my throat. The man turned around faster than any of my dancers could, just not as graceful. He looked terrified and a thick bruise was starting to form across his strong jaw line. Before I knew it he was at my side and frantically shooting off words that I couldn’t quite make sense of just yet. I shook my head and blinked a couple times to try and regain my senses, but they were coming slower than usual. These spells had been happening to me ever since that night in the hospital. It was like my whole body would shut down and I would go to some other place where the real world couldn’t bother me. The sad thing was that I didn’t even care that the spells happened. It was nice to get away from myself for a while, even if it was within some weird as hell zone-out session.

  “Can you hear me?” His dark eyes searched mine as I continued to stare at him like he had two heads. I definitely heard that.

  “Who are you?” I managed to mumble without thinking about how rude I sounded. Luckily he laughed, exposing his perfect pearly whites. He was gorgeous, with eyes so dark they were almost black, and hair to match.

  “Talon Fisher. My sister is starting a dance class here today.”

  “Do you usually just barge into a place that isn’t open yet?” My mouth was getting ahead of my brain and I was mentally smacking myself for sounding like such a bitch.

  He sat back on his heels and ran his hand down the back of his neck. “Adalynn told me the owner would be here today. When I knocked, no one answered but the door kicked open just enough for me to see you dancing.” One good thing I managed to take from his honesty was the fact that Adalynn knew him. That calmed my nerves enough for me to stand, and he followed suit.

  “So you know Adalynn, huh?” I walked briskly ahead of him towards my office.

  “Yeah, we bumped into each other down at the coffee shop a few weeks back when she was hanging up flyers. We’re new to town and Zoey has always loved to dance so when we saw the flyers I couldn’t tell her no.” He smiled widely at the thought of his sister, and I felt my heart flutter. The damn thing was betraying me and I couldn’t allow it.

  “So Zoey is starting class this morning? Where is she?” Surely I hadn’t noticed a little girl running around here while the madness was taking place.

  “I told her to go get ready in the locker room when everything happened.” Almost simultaneously the cutest long-haired skinny brunette came skipping through my office door singing the lyrics to the edited version of Fancy by Iggy Azalea. She was wearing a deep purple leotard, leopard print tutu, and matching dance shoes. Zoey was officially the most adorable little seven-year-old I had ever laid eyes on.

  “Hey, Zoey,” Talon called out to his sister as she wrapped her tiny arms around his waist.

  “When are we going to dance, Talon?” She was looking up at him like her world solely revolved around their relationship. It made my heart hurt because I’d never known what it was like to have a sibling that loved you that much. Being an only child s
eriously had its disadvantages.

  “Soon, Zoey.” He ruffled her long dark locks and bent down to kiss the top of her head.

  “So when’s the owner usually get in?” He directed his attention to me as Zoey admired the numerous awards that lined all the shelves to the right of my desk.

  “You’re looking at her,” I said shyly. I’m sure the last thing he was expecting to hear was that the girl who flipped out on him was the same girl who would be teaching his sister dance.

  “Oh,” he replied, arching an eyebrow at me.

  “Hey, Zoey, how about you go do some stretches before the others get here. Okay?” Talon directed his little sister.

  “Okay,” she replied and skipped out of the room.

  “You really should put some ice on that,” I suggested as I pointed to his jaw.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a mean right hook?” He laughed as his humor danced within his dark eyes.

  “I really am sorry.” A few giggles escaped me before we both fell into an uncomfortable silence.

  “So…” He rubbed his hand down the back of his neck again. It wasn’t hard to notice that he would do that when his nerves were getting the best of him. It’s a tell-tale sign.

  “So…” I mocked him.

  “Do you always do that when someone scares you?”

  My heart rate spiked through the roof at his question. I hadn’t talked to anyone about my crazy shit, except the counselor I attempted to see, and Adalynn. I took a few deep breaths to try and slow my heart rate so I didn’t flip the hell out in front of Talon again. I’m sure if I did he would take Zoey and run as far away from my place as possible.

  “Umm…Not always,” I lied…flat out lied to his face, but in the smallest way possible.

  “You might be able to convince someone else with that answer, but not me.” He tapped his finger on the desk, pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and slid it over to me before walking out of my office and taking a seat in the area designated for family members.