Stitching these Wounds (Michael Jackson)

Prologue

[Imani]

•••

May 1st, 1976

Broken.

That's the feeling that was coursing through my veins as my blurred gaze viewed my father's tombstone. It'd been nearly a year since my father's tragic passing, and with everything that'd been done to me, life's hardships continued to come my way.

My mother's hand was tightly in mine as a single tear streamed down my face. "I still can't believe that he's gone," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too," my mother's voice said next to me, her heart aching just as bad as mine. "It feels like yesterday that we brought you home from the hospital, and now—"

"It's okay, babe," the gruesome man, who stood next to my mother assured her. His intentions seemed pure, but if only my mother knew what he was doing to me. "You have to remember that he's in a better place and he would want you to be happy with me, not continuing to grieve him." I nearly gagged at his words. "Plus, now I have the best wife and the best stepdaughter." The look of hunger he gave me sent shivers down my spine.

My mother took a deep breath, attempting to rid of her tears. "You're right, Felix," she admitted. I grimaced at how easily he was able to manipulate her into thinking he cared. "I just get more emotional when I come here."

Reaching for her hand, Felix gestured to the direction in which the car was parked. "Then, how about we get out of here?"

My mother nodded. "Okay," she agreed, beginning to walk to the car after placing one final flower on my father's tombstone.

"I'm just going to stay and have a word with Imani," Felix informed her as she continued to walk away. I feared what would happen in the next few moments. When she was no longer in sight, Felix wasted no time before looking me up and down. "Cut the crying."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my shock evident in my tone.

"Did I stutter?" Felix questioned, his tone harsh. "Face it, kid," he started. "Your father's never coming back, and your mother will never figure out what I'm doing to you, because you better believe that I'll continue to make your life a living hell if you dare utter one word to her." He snickered. "It's not like she'd believe you, anyway. To her, I'm her caring, innocent husband that's helping her in this time of grief."

I closed my eyes for a long moment, praying that this wouldn't result in the same conclusion that it had many times before. "Please," I practically begged. "Spare me today. I've already had a rough day, and the last thing I need is this." I tried walking away, but before I could make it another step, Felix grabbed my arm forcefully and pulled me back. I winced slightly at the pain it caused me.

He looked at me with horror in his eyes as he put his hands on my neck, squeezing tightly. "Don't you ever walk away from me while I'm talking to you!" Felix yelled menacingly. "Do you understand me?"

I gestured to my neck as I struggled to breathe, my vision becoming clouded with many black dots. He released me from his hold before I swallowed as much air as I could, coughing violently. "Y-Yes," I answered.

"Good," Felix simply said, walking closer to me. My heart started to race rapidly. His lips grazed against my ear, and I felt my eyes starting to burn with tears once again. "Because I'll continue to use you as my bitch for as long as I need to." With that, he started towards to the car, a smug smile stuck on his lips.

The many nights of being abused at the hands of Felix instantly filled my entire being with fear, but the only thing that was worse than that was having the weight of keeping this horrific secret away from the ones I cared about most on my heart.

•••

Yikes! That's some pretty heavy stuff. Welcome to the beginning of my third book, Stitching these Wounds! I know it doesn't seem like it now, but things will lighten up quite a bit. I hope you guys enjoyed your first bit of it! I love you all so much, and as always, thank you for reading.