Give Me Grace (Devil's Right Hand MC #5)

Prologue

Grace's POV
April 11th, 2002

Sun streams in through my perfectly pink curtains as I watch the hands tick by on the antique clock on the wall. Another night in hell has passed and for the first time in forever, the morning light doesn't drive me deeper into the black hole of despair and depression inside me. For the past three years, every morning has been a reminder of what happened the night before and a promise of what would happen again that night. Every sunrise and sunset only promised more fake smiles and teenage giddiness during the day while the horrible truth came out under the cover of darkness. But today is different. This sunrise promises a new beginning. By sunset tonight I will be living a new, adult life.

Last night will be the last time he ever lays a filthy hand on me.

The hands on the clock strike 7, and I mentally prepare myself for what is about to happen. In this family, this perfect suburban family, 7am is considered sleeping in. My foster mother, Janet wakes up at 4:30 every morning to go for a run before doing a daily bible devotion and making breakfast. Todd, my foster father, isn't far behind her as he is up and dressed by 6am to watch the television preacher on Spirit TV. Before moving here, I didn't even know there were sermons on TV during the weekdays, but leave it to these people to find Jesus in every corner of their life.

But my room, this bed, it's a corner of their house even Jesus wouldn't dare enter at night.

As predictable as my foster parents are, their biological children are the same. Their 8-year-old daughter Avery is the perfect all American girl with blonde pigtails and dimples that could coerce even the toughest business men into catering to her will. She's the one good thing in this house. She's the only thing that makes me question my plan because if he doesn't have me, will he turn to her? Is she too young for him? Or worse, what will happen when she grows into his type?

As if on cue, hushed whispers echo through the thin walls. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, still sore from the night before, and grab a scrunchy from my nightstand to pull my stringy, dark hair, into a bun. Knowing what would happen, I got out of bed early this morning, not that I ever went to sleep, and put on concealer to hide my undereye bags and a loose sweatshirt with sweatpants to hide the marks.

The foot steps in the hallway become louder, matching the beating of my heart, as I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the pristine, white door to open.

Three......two.....one.

The door swings open so wide it bangs against the wall behind it as a little blob with blond ponytails runs into the room.

"Gracie!" She yells as she catapults into my arms.

"Good morning, sunshine!" I beam as I wrap my arms around her.

"Happy birf-day," she says with her toothy grin. She just lost her front right tooth, and I have to stop myself from giggly every time she talks or smiles.

"Happy birthday sweetie!" Janet says, as she enters the room carrying a tray piled high with breakfast food.

The one thing I can say about this foster home is that they always had food. Hell, most of the time Janet made a gourmet five course meal for dinner. Like most traditional southern housewives, she prides herself on her ability to cook, clean, and take care of her children all while maintaining her perfect appearance inside and outside.

Take care of her children.

I nearly laugh at that ridiculous thought. She doesn't give a damn about her children, or at the very least she doesn't give a damn about her foster child. How could she not see what was going on right under her nose? Didn't she hear me crying at night?