Fade to Black (The Black Trilogy Book 1) by MC Webb

Italian. He had jet-black hair, and big, broad shoulders. His eyes were so dark they looked black. I was struck by his resemblance to Brutus from Popeye.
    “Maurice Duchete! How ya been?” Papaw said, pumping the man’s hand in return. “What’s it been? Ten years?”
    The man smiled, creasing his brows together. “Yes, sir. I guess it has,” said Maurice.
    The younger version of Maurice was standing in the big man’s shadow. He eyed me slyly, and I felt heat rise to my face. I looked at him and then quickly looked away, aware I was blushing.
    “This is my boy, Jean-Paul,” Maurice said proudly.
    Jean-Paul shook Papaw’s hand politely. “How do you do, sir?”
    Just as politely, Papaw said, “Nice to meet you, son.”
    Maurice then inquired about my dad. My heart clenched at this question. Papaw only brought up my dad when he was in certain moods, and this was not one of those moods. He was unreadable, but I know the toll my dad’s death had taken on him—his only child, dead and buried in our family cemetery, up in the hills.
    Papaw had a sad smile for the man. “Nate passed not long ago.” He paused. “Car wreck,” he finished, in explanation.
    The man, Maurice, looked sad.
    “Nathaniel, I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said sincerely.
    If we had a dollar for every time I’d heard that said, we’d never have to work again. But I believed this man was sincere. Maurice turned his gaze to me, and Papaw followed it. For a moment, I thought he had forgotten I was there.
    “Oh, yes!” he said proudly. “This beautiful young lady is my granddaughter. This was Nate’s greatest gift to me during his too-short life.”
    I felt proud for a second. Papaw loved me. Me? But I’m dirty and diseased, I reminded myself. Now I had the nasty cuts to prove it. Unseen by the world, I made sure I kept the fresh cuts open, to remind me that bleeding meant being alive, because the other feelings would certainly kill me.
    The men talked about reservations and tree stands for the coming hunting season. I was bored with the conversation, so I said my nice-to-meet-yous and good-byes. The younger man, Jean-Paul, never took his eyes from me. I figured he could see I was dirty. I left before his dad noticed it too.
    On my walk back home, a car pulled up beside me. It was a miserably hot August day, and school would be starting back up in no time. Lana rolled the window down and smiled her best Hollywood smile.
    “Hop in,” she said, with her wicked grin.
    “Where we going?”
    “Who cares? Get you country ass in the car before I melt.” She waved long fingers back and forth to fan herself.
    I ran to the other side, and we set off to I-didn’t-care-where.
    We ended up at the river, a spot we would swim and rope jump into deep water. Handing me a swimsuit, Lana got out of the car. Unashamed, she immediately began to undress. Her body was perfect, and there were no ugly scars or cut-marks. She was not dirty as I was. I got out of the car feeling panicky and ashamed.
    “I’ll just swim in this.”
    I had on a shirt with three-quarter sleeves, and jean shorts I had cut off myself. My cuts were on the insides of my upper arms, and a few on my stomach.
    “Oh, no, you won’t! You need some sun. You’re as pale as a vampire, missy.” Lana reached for the button on my shorts.
    Nothing was weird or uncomfortable to Lana. She would often curl up against me like a cat, when we sat on the couch to watch TV. Although I had problems with physical contact, I was trying to overcome them. I had no choice with Lana, and I felt oddly safe with her. Nothing Lana did ever made me uncomfortable.
    Except for this particular time. I jerked away from her. She was my best friend, and we had been spending a lot of time together since the baby was born, but I had never shared anything with her that I was ashamed of. Nothing about my mother, nothing about Daniel.
    I thought about it daily. I’d had a mother who could have given me to Nana,