The Promise

The Promise Perpetually Broken Series – Book One By Kerry Taylor A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORI wanted to take a moment to explain why I do what I do. For me, writing started out as a form of therapy – a way to pour all of my turbulent thoughts and fears into something other than the swirling vortex in my mind. Then I started publishing my work and it was more well received than I ever expected or could have hoped for. I am so grateful every day for the fact I get to pursue my passion.Now, I write every one of my books with the intention of showing just a fraction of the struggles with trauma and darkness that countless men and women across the world face every day.This series is not one of a ‘kick-ass’ heroine who charges around alone, never needing anyone or anything, so if that is what you were looking for, maybe this one isn’t for you. This is the story of a ‘kick-ass’ heroine who has endured and survived darkness. It is a realistic account of the effects trauma can take on a person and of the journey to keep living and moving forward despite it. The heroine in this series has endured trauma. She has faced trial after trial throughout her life so far, and as a result she is fractured. She is dealing with PTSD and anxiety. She is not whole. She will need help from other characters in this series and she will not instantly be ‘fixed’ or ‘tough,’ because, in my experience, that is not how trauma works. I write trauma, anxiety, and PTSD as I have personally experienced it, and as I have understood it from others who have their own struggles. I write realistic portrayals because I want to represent all of the survivors out there and show just how strong they are. Some reviews have called the main characters in my books various things, including ‘annoying’, ‘weak’, ‘whiney’, ‘pathetic’, and many more. There have been remarks about characters crying, and ‘falling apart too much’, trembling all of the time, and being ‘too scared’, but in my lived experience this is what trauma can do. It can break the strongest of people and take away everything they once were.No one knows how they will handle a terrifying situation until it happens to them. No one knows just how much facing fear and violence, be it just once, or over and over again, could truly destroy them. So what I’m trying to say is if you’re looking for a tough as nails, 'Super-Woman' type heroine, this likely isn’t the book for you. I don’t write characters like that. I write about the quiet superheroes; the ones who survive hell, escape a little bruised, shattered, or even broken, but still find the strength and courage to pick up the pieces they can, stick them back together TRIGGER WARNING This book addresses some dark topics including physical and sexual abuse, violence, and kidnapping. While the sexual abuse is not detailed, it is alluded to in flashbacks, nightmares, and recollections. If you have further questions regarding triggers and the content of this, or any other of my books, you can contact me directly through my author pages on Facebook or Instagram. PROLOGUEBLAKE Don’t you dare cry, Blake Moss, I said over and over again in my head, fighting to hold back the burning tears that were filling my eyes. “Remember to keep our little secret now, lass. You wouldn’t want the doc thinking you’re back up to your old ways,” he whispered as he fastened his belt. The room was in darkness, except for a small amount of light coming through the thin curtains at the window. It was illuminated just enough for me to see his silhouette and the glow of his self-satisfied grin. “It’d be a shame if they had to drug you up as bad as they did when you got here. Not as much fun when you don’t fight,” he sneered in his heavy Yorkshire accent. I flinched back as far as I could, but the restraints around my wrists stopped me from moving more than a few inches to the side. Terry, the sick fuck orderly who had been doing exactly as he wished with me, several times a week, since I had been locked in that hell hole, six months before, placed his knee on the mattress beside me and leant over. He braced his hands either side of my head and the stench of his body odour made me gag. “Better be good, lass, otherwise you’ll never get out of here.” He moved his face down until he was nose to nose with me, then he licked up the side of my face. I thrashed my head to get away from him as much as I could, but I was restrained to the bed by my wrists and ankles, leaving little room to move. He was laughing at my revolted reaction as he sat up enough to unbuckle the restraints, which he had wrestled me into when he came into the room. When I had first arrived in that place I had been terrified and also filled with rage, which had resulted in me lashing out a lot. I had found myself restrained to that very bed for much of those first few weeks and also sedated heavily. That was what had given Terry his first opportunities to do as he wanted with me. I only have vague recollections of those times because I was so out of it on drugs, I had barely been there. Eventually, I realised the anger wasn’t getting me anywhere, so I forced myself to hold it back and behave. That