Beautifully Damaged Read online

  Beautifully Damaged

  by Gina Sevani

  Blue Tulip Publishing

  www.bluetulippublishing.com

  Copyright © GINA SEVANI

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  BEAUTIFULLY DAMAGED

  Copyright © 2015 GINA SEVANI

  ISBN: 978-1-942246-53-4

  ISBN 10: 1942246536

  Cover Art by P.S. Cover Design

  To God,

  for giving me strength when I desperately need it.

  And to my daughter, my miracle,

  for always giving me a reason to smile.

  Your happiness, your love, makes my world a beautiful place.

  Always believe in yourself

  and chase whatever dreams your heart desires.

  I love you!

  PROLOGUE

  Then

  SIXTEEN YEARS OLD.

  How was it possible that someone's whole life could be shattered into a million tiny pieces in just a day? Everything changed so fast. I went from being happy, free, and feeling loved one morning to feeling crushed, empty, abandoned, and completely dead that same afternoon. I didn't feel alive. I felt wrecked!

  People think they know what pain is but truth be told most of them don't even have a clue. Pain was feeling absolutely nothing that resembled happiness. Pain was the constant crushing tightness in the chest. Pain was the inability to breathe because life just hurt too damn much. I didn't just lose a close person—a friend; I lost everyone I'd ever cared about. In a blink of an eye my family was gone. My world was shattered; my life, over. My body might still be here on earth, but my heart, my soul, was completely gone. I lost it a long time ago, and I never thought I would ever get it back. Not completely. I was beyond damaged.

  I knew I wasn't the only one suffering in the world. The only one who felt so much pain and complete emptiness. I stopped having appreciation for life, for what most people find beautiful. How could the world be so huge, while I felt all alone, like I was the only one living — no, existing — here. I no longer wanted to be here, not without them. When a person loses so much, it's hard to find anything worth living for. It had been so long since I smiled a genuine smile or actually laughed without forcing it. I recall a time in the past where I remembered what it was like to be happy, but then tragedy took place, and my whole world came crashing down all around me. Everything that ever mattered to me was gone. I lost it all one afternoon that some would even describe as a sunny, beautiful, perfect day. My whole entire world was gone just like that.

  Everything changed. I used to find beauty in things like watching the stars at night, rainbows, amazingly blue skies, clear water, and couples in love. When I saw those things now, I didn't feel anything anymore. Nothing, all I ever felt was pain and numbness when I was lucky. I welcomed that feeling with open arms. I embraced it. After all, I was evil. What's a person like me supposed to feel? Joy… happiness… love and laughter? No, I don't think so.

  I had so much hatred and sin in my heart that it consumed me, almost every thought. I got the revenge I had sought. Damn right I did, but by doing so I lost who I was. I lost the innocence I'd once portrayed, the spirit of kindness. I committed one of the worst sins possible. I would never be the same girl again. I wasn't even sure I could remember exactly who she was anyway.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Now

  IF ANOTHER OLD GEEZER TRIED TO grab my ass, I was going to flip out and go full-blown crazy on someone. It blew my mind that he thought he could actually get away with copping a feel. Geez, what a creep! I let it go in order to keep the peace, but he didn't get off without a warning look from me. Tip be damned. My life felt like a merry-go-round that forever spun, and there was no way to get off. It was just a continuing cycle — over and over and over again. Smile, take the order, don't spill anything, don't be rude, smile again, and never let them know you were having a crappy day. Oh, and don't forget to smile some freaking more. I couldn't bat my eyelashes and smile at the jerks that came in like the other girls could. Props to them because the only thought that brought a smile to my face was imagining smashing their faces into the tables — repeatedly.

  Being a waitress had its perks. It brought in more cash, and we needed it. It might not have been my favorite thing in the world, but I was forever grateful to Big Joe, the owner of Dalton's where I worked. God bless him for looking out for me, even though I was far from great as a waitress.

  Big Joe was about six foot four and 280-plus pounds of solid muscle. Seriously huge. I never asked him his age, but I knew he was about ten to fifteen years my senior. He had a shiny bald head, and his skin was covered in tattoos. Even with all his scars, he was still an attractive man. Rumor was he'd been in a terrible car accident, but I never felt like it was my place to ask questions. After all, we all had scars; some were just hidden. At first glance, he might have looked extremely scary, but he had the biggest heart of any man I knew, besides my father, of course. I appreciated Big Joe more than he probably realized. He had always known Grams and that was how I met him a few years back. Big Joe would never admit it, but I think he was a tad bit scared of her.

  I never realized how hard waitstaff worked or the insane amount of BS they have to deal with on a daily basis. When I first started working at Dalton's, I knew nothing of the place. I didn't know that it sat waterfront. I thought it was just a hole in the wall, a small restaurant and bar. I was wrong. The place was huge and spacious. It was lit up beautifully; you could see it from miles away.

  Anyway, I started in the back. I cleaned, cooked, and washed more dishes than I could ever think possible, but it was my happy place. I wasn't a people person; I was a loner. I enjoyed being in the back because even though it was fast-paced, no one really bothered me. I had my own little piece of solitude. I didn't have the unwanted attention from guys, the nasty looks from stuck-up girls, or the rude comments that always seem to fall on the wait staff's head, even when it wasn't our fault that mistakes were made. Oh, and let's not forget about the pervs whose hands got a little frisky at times. Although I had been happier in my previous position, I knew I couldn't stay there.

  Breathe, I told myself Deep breaths, Ariel.

  It really didn't help that I had issues with anger; the first step was admitting it, right? I had been told several times that I wore my feelings on my sleeve. That people could tell what I was feeling just by looking at me. I was sure that fact was pretty accurate. I also had a short fuse when it came to people pissing me off. I used to have the perfect mask, but somewhere along the line I stopped caring what others thought. I never told anyone anything about my personal life, but I quit trying to fake it a long time ago. Whatever opinion they had of me was fine.

  My body was exhausted, I fought yawn after yawn. No clue how I managed to actually function with the amount of sleep I received each night. I guess somehow my body just got used to it. I had made myself a promise that I would try and eat better and sleep more. That was only a few days ago, and I had already broken it. Energy, I desperately needed. Skipping meals wasn't a great idea. I never did it on purpose. I just didn't have much of an appetite. It must have been my lucky night because thankfully, business had quickly slowed down. I was struggling to keep it together. Not even an hour left, and I could call it a
night. I glanced down at my last order and headed for the bar.

  "HEY, TRISH. TRISH!" I snapped my fingers in front of her face to get her attention. Trish, one of our bartenders, was a few years older than me. Tall and gorgeous. She was super friendly and a hardworking single mom of two adorable kids. When I first started working there, I kind of thought something was going on with her and Big Joe, but apparently not. Maybe it was over before it actually got started. I was new, I had no clue, but I could definitely sense something between them. Trish and Xavier were awesome bartenders, and I knew for a fact I couldn't do what they did, move as fast as they could. I could barely walk from point A to point B without falling flat on my face, which is why waitressing was probably a terrible, horrible, very bad idea for me.

  "Two Buds please," I said a little too sweetly. It took her a minute. I knew who she was staring at; the man every guy wanted to be and every woman wanted to tame. It was freaking Damon.

  "Oh, you have a little bit of something right there." I pointed toward her chin, and she giggled.

  "Whatever, Ariel… you're just blind not to notice how hot that young man is. If I was your age, I would be all over him." She pointed up and down her body to stress the point. "I mean, all over it. Poor guy wouldn't stand a chance."

  "Trust me. I notice. I'm just not the type to make a fool out of myself like most of the girls here. Besides he's just a hot guy. Take a look around. He isn't the only one. I don't see what the big deal is."

  Trish's hand came to an abrupt stop on the beer tap. She stared at me; her eyes were wide as her jaw dropped. "What?" I asked and wiped at my face at the same time. "Do I have something on my face? She leaned over the bar and placed her hand against my forehead.

  I pushed her hand away. "What are you doing, woman?"

  "No fever. So is your vision okay? Time for a checkup?"

  "You're crazy." I smiled, rolled my eyes at her comment, and walked away; the last thing I wanted to do was get in a conversation related to him. I wasn't sure Damon would ever have any competition in the looks department. Hell, if I was honest with myself, he was in a league of his own, but what I thought, or what I allowed others to think was completely different.

  I didn't want anyone to know I was even a little bit interested in someone, because once they knew that piece of info, the matchmaking process began. Not that I had experienced much of that because I would actually need friends for the whole matchmaking mess, but I'd witnessed it, and I wanted zero part in it.

  Back to Damon, he had never spoken one word to me. Not a single one. His band — just two other guys — hadn't always performed here, although they'd been almost everywhere else, from what I'd heard. The smoking-hot drummer was wildly energetic. He sang backup for Damon on certain songs. He looked like one of those California-surfer types who spent every day on the beach. The other guy was the complete opposite; every time I saw him, he reminded me of the vampire dude from Twilight. He even acted like him somewhat, always kept to himself. I'd noticed a few girls try to approach him, but he was all about business. He did his set and left as fast as he could, unlike Damon and the Cali drummer guy. From what I could tell, Twilight dude played bass, and I had seen him on the drums as well. He was still handsome, just in a different way.

  I'd seen Damon play his famous guitar and the piano on a few occasions. Crazy talented. His band had several videos on YouTube and had performed a lot. People followed the band and came to wherever they were playing. It was pretty awesome. The music industry was extremely hard to get into, I'd heard, but there was just something about those guys that made the world — and me — think that they would make it somehow. He was beyond amazing. Actually fan-fuckin-tastic, like melt your panties off, but I would never admit that to anyone.

  Not a soul.

  Damon was tall, dark, and handsome as the saying goes: mysterious, tattooed, and very muscular with broad, defined shoulders — at least six foot two — and the most crystal-blue eyes I had ever seen. Strange, because normally eyes like his were on blonds and fair-skinned people. He looked like he'd just gotten out of bed and thrown on whatever jeans and shirt he could find, without caring what people thought of him. Honestly, that probably made him even more attractive to me. And his hair… I bet he never even brushed it. Just ran his fingers through it, leaving it messy, and somehow it fell absolutely perfect. Damon was the epitome of sexiness, no doubt. But problem number one was…

  He was a jerk. He was constantly surrounded by groupies, and I had never seen him leave with the same woman twice. So what does that tell you? Exactly.

  And there lies problem number two… I just wasn't like that!

  My grams told me all the time I needed to get a life — meet some people, hang out with friends my age. I knew I needed to get out more. I just didn't have it in me. I was fine the way things were. I could trust myself, and depend on me. Anyone else would hurt me in the long run.

  Just give it time, it would eventually happen. Unfortunately, I learned a long time ago that I had to be my very own best friend in this world. I'd been popular in school. That was until I lost the people who meant the most to me. Turned out, after all that had happened I realized I didn't really have any true friends either.

  I DROPPED THE BEERS off at the corner table with one of my favorite customers and some of his friends. His name was Alex. He was always nice, flirted just a little, and left big tips. Most of the time he came in after work, still in a suit and tie. He was employed by the biggest law firm in town.

  "How are you doing, Ariel?" Alex smiled.

  "Good. You?"

  "Better now that I get to see you." One of his friends laughed at his attempt to flirt.

  "Such a charmer." I smiled at them.

  Alex had never crossed the line, and I appreciated that tremendously. He was always quietly chilling with friends, and I hardly ever saw him with a girl. If and only if I was interested in dating someone, he would be the type I would have liked. Safe and not a man-whore like Damon.

  I heard the strum of Damon's guitar as he announced the last song for the night, "Heartless," by The Fray, and I couldn't help but move my hips a little. Other than singing, dancing was my next favorite thing. Who was I kidding? I was way too exhausted to be dancing. I leaned on the table I had just cleaned and had time to focus on his performance.

  Confidence radiated off him like it was effortless. Damon's talent was incredible and he knew how to control every song he sang. I had followed music my entire life and had never heard anyone do what he could. Usually a country singer like Damon was mainly just that — country. But no, his tone could hold enough soul or raw rasp to rock out the house. You never knew what to expect. The band together was incredible.

  I could see the outline of every muscle under Damon's dark shirt. His hat was facing backward, and his hair was unruly and wavy underneath. His skin glistened from a light sweat. How the hell he made veins popping from his neck sexy as he hit certain notes, I had no clue, but damn. Long, dark, full eyelashes and luscious, kissable lips completed the look that all girls dreamed of. A strong jaw and… defined sexy forearms. Those were just ridiculous. I was probably the only female who bothered to check out his forearms. I couldn't pinpoint a certain feature of his that I liked the most.

  Life was a struggle.

  Damon was hot and very enticing. He acted like he knew it, which, in turn, made him suck, but… my God… that voice was insane. I wondered what he'd done to get blessed with those looks and the ability to swoon any woman around with his charming ways. By any woman, I mean, any other than myself, of course.

  I had never had that pull or connection that made it insanely hard to look away from a person. It was like I felt completely satisfied just by looking at him. It could be so dark, and he could be all the way across the room, but I could feel him staring at me. Yes, I said feel. I know. It was crazy, right? Somehow I would sense him before I ever laid eyes on him. His presence could be a bit overwhelming. It was intense and so very hard t
o explain, but that was what I had with Damon. I knew it was probably one-sided somehow. Every time I went to look away, it was like I let go of a part of myself. I hated to even feel like that. I swore I didn't understand the feeling or what the hell I was thinking, but there it was. I didn't have to like it, and I guess there was nothing wrong with admiring the view, because there would never — I mean never — be anything between us. It was pretty weird, considering we had never spoken to each other.

  Dead serious, we had these stupid staring contests, and it wasn't the kind where you check someone out from head to toe and back again. No, it was where we would just gaze into each other's eyes as we tried to put all the puzzle pieces together. Unfortunately at times Damon wore another expression when he stared at me as well. I would say that those I-wanted-to-kill-you, hate-you looks were stuck permanently on his handsome face, but that just wasn't so. I had seen the smirks and the drop-your-panties smiles; they just weren't aimed at me, which was totally fine. It was much safer that way. It was easier to resist him at a distance. If he ever got close, I wasn't sure I could control myself. I hated that he got to me; hell, the sad part was he didn't even have to try. There was something there, something more, perhaps unexplainable. But I felt it, strongly. I wanted to look away, I really did, but no, it was almost impossible until I got my little fix. Not to mention the strength to look away quickly, and hope the next time I have the urge to look again, he wouldn't notice.

  That's how I felt anyway.

  I'd accepted the fact.

  I didn't have to understand it.

  I didn't even have to like it.

  That was what I'd told myself multiple times. It helped.

  Damon was a Grade-A player, and I wasn't naïve like those girls who ran around thinking they would be the one to tame and change him. That, magically, his love would overpower everything, and he would be the perfect boyfriend, future husband, and we would have that white house with the cute little picket fence. Oh, and let's not forget the 2.5 adorable little rug rats. That wasn't how life worked… especially not mine.