Deliverance for Amelia.

by Bonny Capps.

Acknowledgements & Dedication.

To my guys I love you all so very much.

Dusty, you're an amazing husband, thank you for all that you do. It's always so fun bouncing ideas off of you!

To my amazing mother Bunny Bennett for taking the time to edit this novel. I love you.

To my best friend and sister, Heather.

Thank you to my amazing beta readers (Nicole Carter, Kelly Chandler, Sharon Sheeley, Melissa Martin and Misty Ford). Your feedback helps immensely.

To my amazing fans, friends and family.

Cover image: FlexDreams.

This is for all of the survivors out there.

"The feat of surviving is directly related to the capacity of the survivor."

- Claire Cameron.

Forward.

When I first began writing Deliverance for Amelia, I knew that it would be a difficult story to tell. What I didn't foresee was the amount of anger that would be felt or the tears that would be shed when writing this story.

Amelia's story is an abusive one. She goes through a lot in order to survive. The tale that you're about to read is not for the faint of heart, so it is very important that you pay mind to the warning.

This book does not glorify an abusive, controlling relationship in fact, it strips it down to the muscles and bones. There is no sugar coating what an abusive relationship is. Abuse is abuse, plain and simple.

It took some serious digging through the depths of my mind to create Gabe. He is everything evil, while Amelia is a kind heart, trapped in a very unfortunate situation.

There may be points where you want to put this book down, understandably so. I can imagine that if it was as hard to write for me as the author, it will be even more difficult for you as the reader. However, I can promise you - if you stick to it Amelia will find light at the end of the cold, dark tunnel that she has found herself in.

This is a story about strength and perseverance. Not allowing yourself to become completely broken or losing sight of who you are. Amelia discovers this throughout the book.

If you have triggers - please, put this book down. It was not written to shock and awe. It was written because I wanted to see a strong girl survive incomprehensible circumstances, and in order to do that, I did put her in shocking terrifying troubling circumstances.

In this book you will find that everything in Amelia's life is controlled. Absolutely everything. Everything that Amelia loves is either taken from her, or jeopardized in some way.

Yes, Amelia's story was a tough one to tell. You never know what you're capable of surviving.

Chapter One: Gabe.

WATCHING. I'M ALWAYS WATCHING.

Take Mr. Grant Jackson for example. When you're rather suave looking, it's always easy to lure them in some way or the other. Mr. Jackson's loving wife phoned me a couple of weeks ago and I've been following him since.

He's a successful CEO of a media corporation and she's a socialite who smelled the money. An odd couple they are, the fact that she's purely using him for his bank account is obvious. She has thousands of his dollars pumped into her balloon like lips and fake tits, but she paid up that's what matters, ironically with her husband's hard earned money.

It's always the same story, greedy wives or horny husband's wanting to off the other. Here I am, the proverbial hit man. Only, I take unique requests and I have a passion for medieval torture devices that would make even Eddie Gein's skin crawl.

Mr. Jackson is writhing about on the wooden table with ropes situated at the top and bottom. "The Rack" was designed to dislocate every joint in a human's body and is often where I strap my victims down to play.

His mind is clearing of the fogged daze set on by the chloroform soaked rag. I slapped it over his mouth hours earlier in the parking garage of his company. He's a stubby, short man a nerd of sorts. His hair is wiry and coming loose from the low pony-tail he was sporting earlier. His white, hairy chest heaving up and down, stripped to only his tighty whities with his sorry excuse of a package. I've left his cliche nerdy, black-framed glasses on. I want him to see the "toys" that I've set out for him.

It's go time.

All I can hear are his muffled sobs and attempted screams from behind the gag, drowning out the classical tunes I have playing. I cock my head to the side and examine his frightened face.

"What's that?" I ask as I stand over him, "Oh, where are my manners."

I remove the gag and the pleas begin almost immediately.

"Please, p-p-please. Whatever she paid you, I can double it triple it!" He exclaims.

I tick my tongue at him and turn to my table of instruments. I go for one of my favorite toys and turn to face him. I hold it over his face momentarily before turning it in my hands, his frightened gaze following.

"This is a Heretic's Fork," I say nonchalantly, a devious smile forming on my face, "the leather strap will go around your neck, and this piece here will sit right under your chin and the other right at your sternum. You'll want to be still, because the forks will pierce right through your chin if you're not careful."

"No... NO!" He shrieks as he tosses his head from side to side emphatically.

"Shhhh." I whisper, "Your screams will only motivate me." Tears are now escaping his eyes as he tries to still his convulsing body.

I strap the Heretic's Fork around his neck and he winces as he tries to lower his head, the fork jabbing him slightly, causing a single trickle of blood to run down his neck.

"Now," I say as I turn back to the table, "Ah, yes The Lead Sprinkler," I turn and show him, his eyes struggling to look towards me, he's afraid to move his head, in fear that the fork might pierce him again, "I will need to go heat it of course, but I can assure you that it will be rather difficult for you to remain still. I currently have tar inside the bulb end, these holes will release it with each flick of the wrist." I stop when my phone begins buzzing in my pocket. I retrieve it and look at the illuminated screen. The Mayor, the bastard still owes me half a mill for offing the blackmailing journalist months prior.

"Tony!" I say cheerily.

"Gabe, I've gone bankrupt, I don't know what to do."

I annoyingly place the Lead Sprinkler back on the table of instruments and respond with the most saccharine tone, "Ah, see that's going to be a problem Tony," I pause and wink at Mr. Jackson before continuing, "You knew going into this what the consequences would be if you failed to pay up-"

He cuts me off and I clamp my teeth together. I loathe being interrupted.

"Gabe, I'll come up with it."

"You better," I sneer, "Because I will take something very precious to you, without hesitation"

I snap my phone shut and retrieve the Lead Sprinkler from the table once more, "Now, where were we?"

Chapter Two: Amelia.

Two Weeks Later "DADDY, I'LL BE FINE." I murmur as I put the last layer of red nail polish on my pinky toe.

"I worry, sweetheart. That's all." He responds warily.

I smile as we say our goodbyes. My poor father, between the financial difficulties and the pesky journalist who's mysteriously vanished, he's been so stressed. Luckily, I was granted a scholarship to my first choice college, Berklee College of Music, after rigorously practicing for the audition that landed me here.

I maintained a high GPA in high school and I'm currently a first year in college, just arrived yesterday in fact. I came from a wealthy background and am currently struggling to find myself outside of the mansions, country clubs and flashy cars. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, so it was important to me that I earned this scholarship; that I worked to maintain high grades.

So, in turn - my nose remained in textbooks; my childhood merely an appearance. Everything had to be perfect, otherwise I would be on the news - my mother had warned - and we simply couldn't have that. Piano lessons, tutors and charity events ruled my life. But now, I'm finally free, and I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.

I sigh as my phone buzzes once more. It's Meg, I met her yesterday. She's in her second year and is a coveted violinist.

"Hey, so you're still down for the party?" She asks excitedly.

I bite my lip, my eyes travelling to the large bay window in my living room. My dad still gives me a hefty allowance despite our financial woes, so locating a nice apartment in Boston wasn't as difficult as it should have been. It's a nice, roomy one bedroom. The walls are a stark white and unopened boxes litter the cherry wood floors. My dad is sending the rest of my furniture and it should arrive in the next day or two. The streets are busy and people walk briskly with their different colored umbrellas as the rain pours from the sky. This is a day where I would prefer to stay in, but I don't feel like unpacking and my apartment is depressing without any furniture other than my bed.

"Yeah, I'm down." I respond.

She squeals into the phone and I cringe as I remove it from my ear. Once she calms down she replies, "Awesome, pick you up at eight!"

I look over myself in the full-length mirror attached to the door. I'm wearing a loose fitting tank that shows a bit of cleavage and skinny jeans along with a pair of black stilettos. My straight, brown hair is pulled over my shoulder, my eyes are smoky and my lips stained red. This is my first college party - my first party ever, really. My emotions are a bundle of nervousness and excitement.

I hear a honk outside and grab my purse and keys before heading out.

Meg is leaning against her silver Audi, the rain has calmed and for this, I am thankful.

"Wow! You look hot, Amelia!" She says as she walks around the car to get in.

"Thanks." I respond sheepishly as I get into the car. She's wearing a cute, flowing dress and flats. I suddenly feel like I possibly dressed a bit too sexy.

"You look really nice," I pause as I glance down at my outfit, "Did I dress too, uh..."

She scoffs, "Not at all, you'll be the talk of the party!"

I sigh in relief as we continue on our way; uselessly bantering about boys, music and college life.

Once we arrive, I'm overwhelmed from all the people in attendance. I'm used to social events, but not like this. Red Solo cups are everywhere, rap music is booming and I'm feeling a lot better with my attire when I see all of the scantily clad women unapologetically grinding against guys.

I follow behind Meg as she navigates through the crowd effortlessly. The fellow partygoers already look pretty inebriated and I'm antsy to catch up. I've never had a drop of alcohol in my life, which isn't surprising seeing as I was completely sheltered my entire life, plus I'm only eighteen going on nineteen.

We stop at a large keg placed randomly in the living room and Meg pours us both a drink.

I grimace as the beer hits my tongue - it is horrible.

"Not a beer girl, huh?" Meg asks, cocking her head to the side, "How about some liquor, it is quicker as they say."

I nod and she mixes a drink with vodka and orange juice before turning to me, "It's a screwdriver, you'll like it."

She's right - I do like it, and after several "screwdrivers" I'm seeing double. A handsome blonde guy comes up to Meg and me and wraps an arm around her.

"Amelia, this is my boyfriend Jackson," She pauses as another guy, this time a brunette with a dimple in his chin comes to join us, "and this is Brent. He plays piano also."

"Hi." He says, a smile covering his face.

"Hi." I whisper, self-conscious of my drunken slur.

Brent and I talk as Meg and Jackson mingle with others. Another screwdriver down and Brent takes full advantage, his hands becoming braver as they move from my lower back to the curve of my ass. Of course, at this point I'm losing my inhibitions and fail to stop him. I'm swaying from side to side and my vision is the equivalent of a kaleidoscope.

"Let's go somewhere a little quieter." He whispers into my ear, and begins escorting me up the stairs and into a bedroom. I slump down on the unmade bed and he quickly joins me, his hands once again going discovering.

"No." I murmur, struggling with the sickening feeling overcoming me. I may be drunk, but I know where this is going.

"It's alright." He says as he nips at my neck.

My head rolls to the side as I whisper "No." once more.

He pushes me onto my back and I'm now shaking my head emphatically as he gropes me.

He suddenly stops as the door flies open and before I know it, he is yanked from me and thrown across the room.

A voice I'm not familiar with booms, reverberating throughout the room, "Get out!"

I see Brent clumsily escape the confines of the room, and standing above me is a tall, muscular man. I can barely make out his facial features due to my spinning vision, but I can see that he's huge.

"You need to go to sleep, Amelia." He says sternly, and I don't think twice as my eyes fall shut, giving into the drunken slumber that's calling me.

Chapter Three: Gabe.