Justice for Jenna has been a major undertaking for me. I knew that I wanted to write the second book with the antagonist or "the one everyone hates" from the first book as the main character. I always knew that Jenna's story was going to take me to a different place. It was one that I knew where it was going before I even knew what Sable's story was going to be.
Here are a couple teasers and the first chapter of the book:
Chapter 1 – My Truth
I've
been a bitch. I know this. It's not something that I'm particularly
proud of and it's not something that I had intended to stop being. At least, I
hadn't until recently. I got what older
people call "a taste of my own medicine." I don't think I deserved
that taste. I have lived through a disgustingly
dirty sea of pain and horror. I wanted
others to feel that pain, know that fear. People would understand better if
they knew my story. Sable probably
wouldn't care after everything that I did to her, everything I put her
through. I wish I would've had the
courage to let her know what was going on, instead of being the coward I was
and giving her a glimpse of my pain.
I
am Jenna Nielson Turner. I am the
daughter of an abusive, alcoholic mother and the product of a sexual assault by
my father or so I'm told. If that wasn't
enough, add to it one of the members of the faculty here at Boardan High School
believes I am to be his personal love slave until I graduate. So, yeah, I'm a bitch, but I have some pretty
good reasons to be. Being that person
helps me cope with the hell that is my world, not just my damn life.
I
wasn’t always this way. There are
moments in my life that I can look back on that I was different, moments when I
was considered a good girl. They are few
and far between now. My cousin Sable has
been on the receiving end of my anger for a few reasons. First, she was the closest individual to me
when I first discovered the worst, or at least what I believed was the worst,
part of my life. I believe that I am over finding out my father had taken something
from my mother that she hadn’t felt ready to give to him. The complete ass…inine idiot that he is and
was, he believed that she was the Turner that she wanted to be with. I never knew that an older brother could be
in the shadow of a younger brother. My
Uncle Nathan has always had this larger than life persona from what I have been
told. If you met him then you would see that there is truth in that statement,
even now. Donothan Turner Jr. didn’t have what it took to be the charismatic
leader of Turner Industries. Yet and still, D. J. was given the reigns because
Nathaniel Turner didn’t want to just follow in his father’s footsteps, he
wanted to take the world by storm and pave his own way. I can’t fault the man for that.
The
second reason Sable has been on the receiving end of my frustration is solely
lying at the foot of my mother. My
mother’s ability to see the world through her own, special rose colored glasses
has done nothing but cause our family a world of hurt. I have learned that my mother wouldn’t know
the truth if it came up bit her on the nose and told her its name. Yeah, it was that serious. The sad thing is the fact that I have just
learned this little tidbit of information.
I would’ve done so many things different had I know. Oh well, hindsight and all that. Back to the second reason my mother is to
blame for part of my behavior toward Sable.
I
was told repeatedly, over the years, that the life we led wasn’t to be our
lives. We were the ones that were supposed
to be part of Nathaniel Turner’s life.
All that Sable and her mother had was supposed to be ours. My mother convinced me that she was supposed
to be Nathaniel’s better half and a certain conniving twit took it from her by
sending Donothan my mother’s way.
Sable’s mother was my mother’s best friend at the time. They went to high school, then college
together. My mother who was Nicole Green
during those years was head over heels for “Sexy” Nate Turner. Marguerite knew all about her feelings for Nate. My mother was a stupidly shy and trusting
teenager. She thought her best friend
would look out for her. She didn’t know
what a conniving slut Marguerite could be.
Margie told Nic that she would talk to him for her and see if he was
interested in her. She talked to him all
right. Margie “talked” to him all
night. By the time my mother knew what
was going on, her former friend had staked her claim and Nicole was left
reeling from the betrayal of it all.
A
few days later, Marguerite told my mother that she still had a chance with
Nathan. She swore that they do anything
“important” with each other. It was said
there was some touching, but that was all.
Arrangements were said to have been made. My mother was to meet him in the dorm room
that he shared with his brother and a couple of frat guys. She arrived all set to go on her “big date”
and got more than she expected. The room
was dark, no one responded when she called out.
As she turned to leave, a pair of hands grabbed hold to her and spun her
around so she was face to dark covered face with someone. They shared a kiss and things led to a point
that she said she hadn’t been comfortable with yet hadn’t done much to stop it. When things were all said and done, she
gathered her clothes and left. She
didn’t tell anyone anything about that night.
It
wasn’t until later, a few months later that she got up the courage to ask
Nathaniel about that night. He told her
he didn’t know what she was talking about.
Donny later came up to her and admitted that it was him and told her
that he liked her. He said that he was
confused about why she went to his brother to tell him she was having a
baby. The first of many lies easily
slipped from her lips then. She told him
that she thought he should know and she must’ve been confused. Marguerite later told my mother that she set
things up that way. She told my mother
that Donny was the one that she needed to be with and not Nate. Nate needed someone worthy of him.
The
woman or should I say witch was and still is horrible. From
what I understand, she has done everything possible to make sure she held on to
the Turner name and all that came with it.
I will never understand how a woman can give birth to any child then use
them as leverage to gain the affections or attention of a man. I may be a lot of thing, but I would hope
that I would never be that person.
Sable’s mother should never have been given eggs to create life. When she did give birth, her children should
have immediately been taken away. No
child should ever have to deal with Marguerite Fremont.
I’m
getting ahead of myself and telling things that came later alongside what
happened in the past. My Uncle wasn’t
aware that there was ever an issue between the two women. Knowing that, I can’t
hate him for it. So, my mother was betrayed, lied to and “raped” as she put
it. She screamed it at me once.
“You
were a product of that man raping me, Jenna.
I don’t know how I was supposed to be more than I was with you. I tried my best. I’m sorry, honey. Mommy’s so sorry.”
She
curled in on herself and cried. My
“father” and I left her there to sleep it off.
We were both disgusted, but for different reasons. He was disgusted because he felt like she had
such promise as a “Turner woman” and she just “pissed it all away” on booze and
whatever else she tended to take. I was
disgusted because this woman that wore the same clothes for several days at a
time and woke up with a bottle in hand was supposed to be my role model.
I
used to wish when I was younger that my mother would leave it alone. I wished she would stop taking the pills that
didn’t make her happier, but seemed to make her sadder. I
thought that if I hid her “grown up juice” then she wouldn’t have anymore to
drink. It didn’t work that way I would
later learn. She just found a way to get
to the store and get some more if the bar wasn’t stocked. I even thought once if I had a sister like
Sable, then that child would make her happy.
If she was happy, then she didn’t need the juice or the pills. My father told me that there was no way that
I would ever have a sister or brother, not as long as she was the mother. I didn’t really understand that. I was six.
I did understand that my “daddy” didn’t really like my mother. I was angry with him for a long time because
I blamed him for her actions.
Learning
the truth of what happened from an intoxicated woman doesn’t allow you time to
really process anything. It also doesn’t
give you any way to pull more information out of them. Dealing with a alcoholic is one thing. Trying to get them to have a complete and
coherent conversation when they are in one of their drunken stupors was pretty
much impossible. So, I didn’t have the
full story until much later.
If
that didn’t just knock your socks off, then what I found out next might just do
it. A few years back I was walking by my
“father’s” office and overheard his conversation with his lawyer. It sounded as if he was changing his will. I thought that was rather odd, so I listened
a little bit harder. I’ve become quite a
pro at ear hustling. He was telling Mr. McMillan
to have his will reflect state clearly that he didn’t have any children. He did want it know that he would leave a
portion of his fortune to his niece, then spoke my name. As quietly as I could, I crept away from the
door that day. I couldn’t believe
it. It didn’t take me long to put two
and two together. He’d called me his
niece which meant that at some point in time my mother had been with my Uncle
Nathan. I tried to confront my mother
about it so many times that I finally decided to say I was done and I didn’t
want to have anything to do with either one of them.
I
watched many days as Sable interacted with her mother over the years and
everything seemed to be so wonderful with them.
I guess all of the Turners know what it means to show people one face
and really have another. I hated the
family that I’d been born into. I really
hated the fact that Sable looked to have this beautiful, cushy life while I
suffered. I wanted her to know what it
meant to suffer. I wanted her to feel my
pain. In the end, I just ended up with
more piled on to what I already had.
I’m
home now, sitting in the room that they gave me. I don’t know why I sit in here most of the
time that I do. They don’t know this,
but I don’t live here. I guess that’s
why I’m here now. I periodically sit in
this room and listen to some tunes as I’ve heard Carson call it. Being around that crew of maddening maniacs
has done something to me. I won’t admit
that it might be for the better to anyone other than myself. I sit here and move things around from time
to time so it looks like I’ve been here.
I found my first mp3 player as I was shifting some things around and
found some of older music from artist like Pink, Evanescence, Avril Lavigne and
Green Day. I didn’t even know that I had
some of Paramore’s music on my original player.
I was performing the task of moving the music from the old player to my
iPad. I don’t go anywhere without that
thing. Thinking about all of my family
mess and Sable’s mother’s part in it all had me taking to music and my
paints.
Pink’s
Slut Like You played loudly through
my Monster headphones and I felt the overwhelming urge to type a message that I
hoped would reach Sable’s mother. After
thinking about what I wanted to do and the stupid agreement that I’d decided to
be part of, I decided against it. Emily Osment’s Drift began to play on my headphones. I forgot how much I loved that song. It’s a simple song, but beautiful and one
that says just what I feel on most days.
I
am
Well suited for erasing
Fading into hazy
I'm sinking strong
I
have lived a very interesting life. One
would think, since I’m only sixteen years old all that I’ve already shared
would be more than enough to be my story.
Yeah, the person that thought that would be so far wrong they wouldn’t
ever be able to see right. My story
started the day I was picked up by the police right outside my school. That was one of the best days of my life.
Technically,
I wasn’t arrested. I was just put into
the back of a police car and fingerprinted once I was at the station with
Officer Russell. I never would have
thought that the actions I took against some of the students at the school
would ever land me down at county. At
most, I figured I might get kicked out of school for a few days, which I would
have welcomed. It turns out if you have
enough people threatened or beaten up and their parents get involved, then
possible charges could be brought against you.
Fortunately for me, my last name and my personal…situation got me a
different sentence.
I
had so much I was already dealing with since I have the parents that I have and
the situation with the idiot teacher. I
didn’t think I needed anything added on to that. It appeared I was wrong. I didn’t even get to celebrate the fact that
evil trick was no longer assistant principal at the school. Kelly had just told me the good news while
popping that nasty watermelon Bubble Yum gum and pulling a comb through her
short, layered cut hair. Her oval eyes
had widened when she received a text from Stacie. I saw her pic pop up on the screen next to
the message that said the coppers were there.
I shook my head. How I chose such
a crew as my friends, I didn’t even know.
Stacie’s new thing, at the time, was watching old detective movies and
shoes. In doing so, she tended to use
words like “coppers” and dames.” It was
annoying.
At
the time, I thought maybe they cops were for the assistant principal. Our group’s gossip had always been
Marcie. Her shoulder length honey blonde
hair, weave, swayed as she animatedly shared whatever information she was able
to hear in passing. She’d just returned
to the classroom and informed us that Mr. and Mrs. Tucker had been removed from
the premises by force. They had been
escorted to their offices and the areas were searched. What they found exactly, no one really knows,
but it was enough to have them arrested.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I
was going to get a little bit of time to actually enjoy school. At least, I would be able to enjoy the parts
that I loved about school.
My
victory was short-lived because my name was called over the overhead speakers a
few moments later. Stacie’s and Marcie’s
eyes widened as they looked at each other, then back to me. Kelly mouthed “what did you do” to me just
before Mr. Wilkins asked me to come up and get a hall pass to head to the
office. When I left the classroom, I was
met with an escort. The man was tall,
bald and very Men in Blackesque. We silently walked to the office and I felt
as if I were being led to the electric chair.
We
made it to the office and I was silently handed off to the new acting
principal. I didn’t spend a great deal
of time there. They had evidence against me and Shelby turned on me to save
herself. I would’ve expected the one to
spill her guts to be Kodaira Chu. She is
friends with Sable after having hung out with us for as long as I
remember. Imagine my surprise when I was
met with a couple of the students that were “harassed” or “attacked” (the
acting principal’s words, not mine) and Shelby Donner. She has the “girl next
door” look that Scarlett Johansson has, but wears her hair the color of that Hayley
chick from Paramore. She always has her
strawberry blonde hair dyed pink. We’d
known each other since grade school.
That little whore bag wouldn’t even be a junior if I hadn’t carried
her. Good luck to her now. I will be completely stunned if that cow
actually makes it through this year. If
she becomes a senior, then the world will come to an end or she slept with
someone to get her through it.
I
spent the next hour with the officers at the station. I was escorted, once again, to my home by way
of a police car. When a counselor, a
Children and Family Services Division rep and the police officer met my parents
at the house, all hell broke loose then. My mother screamed about being set
up. Of course, she smelled like she’d
slept on the inside of one of her liquor bottles. My father was outraged that a member of the
Turner family was being “unduly harassed by law enforcement.” Officer Jordyn, a
very pretty, young African American woman with kind eyes rolled those eyes just
as I did the same.
After a few moments and some sound advice from
Mr. McMillan, they both calmed down and went peacefully with the officers. My mother and “father” had been requested to
go to the precinct to answer questions.
They were most likely going to be there for the rest of the night. The police had a lot of questions about why I
did what I did to those girls and some guys.
The question they kept asking me was where were my parents while I was
out terrorizing students at my school. I
just shrugged my shoulders. It was all I
could offer. I have never been so scared
in my life. They took me and all that I
hold dear to the detention center. I was
allowed to have a special room…I couldn’t be in a room with another
person. If I’d been placed with another,
then their night would have been miserable.
I think I spent most of that night listening to Torn to Pieces by Pop Evil.
The
next morning I made sure I left nothing behind and all I needed to have taken
care of was taken care of. I met my
parents at the courthouse. If someone
had told me that I would be charged with assault of a minor and defacing school
property, then I would’ve said “not in this lifetime.” Sitting in the courtroom waiting for my case
to be called was one of my least favorite things that I’ve ever had to deal
with. I sat back and listened as one
after another of the cases was called.
Finally, I was called forth.
The
judge wasted no time reviewing the documents.
It was almost as if he glanced at them while we stood there just so we’d
know he had them. Whatever he saw, he
didn’t like. The stern look on his face
told me that he’d made up his mind on the nature of my character and he found
me lacking. I listened as he listed the
charges, then sat back and steepled his fingers. His words were clear and
concise when he stated what his judgment was to be.
“Miss Jenna Turner, the
court has determined that due to your current circumstances, you will not be
remanded to the juvenile detention center as is the recommendation from the
prosecution. You will, however, log one
thousand hours of community service at Our House Shelter and Community
Center. You will meet with a counselor,
weekly and write an apology letter to each individual that you have caused to
be hurt or harmed with your actions. You will have twenty hours weekly that
will need to be logged. You case will be
reevaluated after the first six weeks have been completed. Case
closed. I’ll hear nothing further on
this matter and no, I will not see either counsel in my chambers.”
That was it. With those words, my fate was sealed and I
was cast away to the wolves that would forever torment then torture me before
making a meal of my remains. Why was I
the chosen target? There were those that
had it out for me, I know. I may have deserved
some of this, but I wasn’t alone in my actions.
Why was I the only one set to be punished?
I had the rest of the week
to get my thoughts together before my community service was to begin. My parents said nothing. They didn’t say anything while we were in
court, not on the way home and not in the week since then. I’ve waited to be yelled at. I waited for someone to scream, but
nothing. They went about their daily
tasks as if nothing ever happened. Every
day, I cautiously make my way to their kitchen and pick up the money for my daily
allowance. I call it my “:keep quiet”
money. “Go, live your life, just don’t
let it interfere in ours.” Not once have
they said a word. Our paths have
crossed, but nothing.
I often wonder and want to
ask God just how it is possible that I got saddled with the two of them as the
two that were going to mold me into the woman that I was supposed to
become. I am who I am despite the two of
them. When I was asked if my parents
would be disappointed in my behavior, I just shook my head and told the two
officers the truth. I honestly believed
that they didn’t care and wouldn’t until I did something to defame the family
name. That statement got me looks of
sympathy. I didn’t say it to get that
and I didn’t really want it. I’d turned
my attention to the obvious camera in the room and awaited the next
question.
Now, I was sitting in my
bedroom on the floor, painting. My
parents talked to me, but not about my “crimes” or punishment. They went about doing whatever it was they
did during the day and I went to school, then work afterwards. Not one soul at school has a clue that I have
an afterschool job. I already let my
supervisors know that I have to change my schedule. The manager of the little eatery is very
understanding about so much when it came to me and my life. The owners know everything that they need to
know and then some about me. We agreed
that I would work two to three days out of the week and every other weekend, as
needed. I work as a hostess for Beats and Eats Café. It’s something that I decided to do so that I
can take care of all that I need to. There
are certain things that I have to purchase for myself that I can’t go to my
parents for. It will raise too many
questions.
Some days it’s just easier
to sit here and enjoy the very rare silence of the house I share with my mother
and the man they call my father. I’ve
spent years pretending that I didn’t hate the jerk that has shared with others
his feelings on what he believes is the truth.
I’ve spent the better part of that time trying to determine if there was
a way that I could completely relieve myself of his genes. He barks regularly about his being my uncle
and not my father. Evanescence’s Good
Enough begins to play in my ears and I allow the words to wash over
me. I wasn’t going to get upset about
the old crap. It shouldn’t hurt that he
is what he is and the way he is when it comes to me. It shouldn’t, but it does.
I blame him for the messed
up family dynamic that we have. I blame
him for the pain that I feel whenever he is the room. I blame him for my mother making that bottle
of whatever liquor of the month it is her best friend and companion. I blame him for my not being able to find
happiness in much of anything. I
definitely blame him for that ass…muncher that is Mr. Tucker having the ability
to be in my life.
There are certain things
that I wouldn’t change about my life or my personality, but that man being part
of it would definitely be a “must get rid of” if I had three wishes. I didn’t and don’t. So, I sit and wait or bide my time until I am
free to exit this space and not have to be questioned on why I’m doing what I’m
doing. It doesn’t usually take
long. If they believe that I am doing
homework or prepping for a cheer event, then they won’t bother me at all. In the background is some upbeat, perfect for
cheering music. I check my watch and
figure it is a good time to turn it off.
I’ve been pretending long enough for them to have no interest in trying
to get me to talk to them now. Another
night with a reprieve from the parents attempt to own up to their given title. I turn the music to a slightly lower volume
then pack up my paints and other materials.
It’s a quarter to five and I am able to slip out undetected. Being completely free of them would be too
much to ask. I look back to make sure
that my mother isn’t secretly watching my exit.
If she is, then she usually calls me back at the very last second to
play twenty questions from the drunk to the sober; me being the sober one in
this equation. When the coast is clear I
practically run full force to my own, little piece of heaven. I am at a complete Zen place when I cross the
threshold. It is a sad, sad day when the
little apartment above the garage is more of a sanctuary than the house that
your parents’ home.
Another day, I made it
another day without a Nicole or Donothan incident. I’m home, finally. It’s the only place that makes me feel
safe. Until tomorrow, I will enjoy what
it is that I’ve set up here. Tomorrow
will bring whatever it is going to bring.
Today is the beginning of my next step.
Whether that step takes me to a better me or not is something I will
soon find out.
Thank you for taking the time to read the first chapter of my upcoming release.
Here is the purchase link for it: http://amzn.com/B00MS3WU2S
Isa*
