Trinity

By Tierney S. Hamilton

Life has never been easy for Trinity Thompson. She lived in fear most of her childhood. Fear of failure, fear of her fathers abuse and fear of hoping for anything good. Discovering love seemed impossible to her since the only example of love she had ever seen was the way her father "loved" her mother, Trinity and her sister and all the women that he brought into his world. Then one day she meets Tristan. Hope finally seeps into her heart. Then he too breaks her heart, propelling her into hopelessness. Determined to get away from it all and find something positive in the world she lives in she discovers she is the only one that can pull herself out of it...but can she?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 22, 2010
• ISBN: 9781462831265

Tierney S. Hamilton

Tierney Hamilton is married with three children living in Colorado Springs, CO. For years she harbored a desperate desire to write a book. After several failed attempts, she had given up. One night while trying to go to sleep, the Preface of Trinity popped into her head. She prayed to God that if she could remember the line in the morning then she would write her book. After several months, the book is finally finished. Her hope is that it brings hope to young women out there in similar life situations.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was a cold night in October. The town, my parents had moved us to, had put together a dance night for the kids in town. It was a small town in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. If you were over thirteen you were allowed to attend. After two years of never being allowed to do anything, my parents actually agreed to let me go.

Walking into the make shift dance club warmed me. The setup was in the old rodeo hall near the center of town. The strobe lights were going strong and the base from the music pounded in my head. The smell of horses and saw dust filled the room. I loved it. Music, horses and books were what kept me going in life. They were the only things in the world that brought me any sense of joy.

I looked around the room, seeing kids from the town. The room was packed with people of all different clicks surrounding the dance floor. The jocks and cheerleaders were on the far side of the dance floor, while the stoners and skaters were nearest to the door. I didn’t belong to either group. My friends were to be found somewhere in the middle. We were not the most popular nor at the bottom of the social latter. We just went on with our lives, caring about everyone regardless of their status. My friends and I took over the center of the dance floor, dancing, laughing and dancing some more. We never cared what other people thought. We just enjoyed the opportunity to let loose.

I wasn’t looking for change in my life. At least, I wasn’t hoping for change because hope had long since left me. Love wasn’t something that I really knew. I loved my mom, my sister, Katie, and my friends. I even loved my dad, although, he was an abusive drug addict that made it difficult to love him the way my friends loved their dads. My mom worked so much just to make ends meet that I hardly ever saw her. When I did see her, she was struggling just to keep my dad happy. She was what I would consider to be an enabler. She hated the abuse that she, my sister and I had to endure but she did nothing to stop it. She stayed true to the love that made her marry him in the first place. Katie was a senior in high school and really could care less what happened to me. She had her own friends and life. She loved me, I was sure of that, but she didn’t have time for me. Lately, she had been gone so much that I didn’t even really know her anymore. I couldn’t really blame her for staying away. Being at home was too difficult when she had an alternate choice.

It was easier for me to pretend I knew what love was rather than admit to the truth. My heart ached to feel love but I shoved that feeling so far down for so long that I had learned to ignore it. All I could think about was growing up as fast as I could so that I could escape to have my fresh start. I had big dreams of going to medical school. I was an average student, nothing spectacular. I just wanted to be successful at helping others. I had a horrible save the world complex even though I couldn’t even save myself. I was the type of girl that would stop to pick up a stray dog to try to find it a home or give a homeless person my lunch money. I wasn’t a saint. Far from it but I tried to do my part to help people.

I had tried out God and realized that He couldn’t save me any more than I could save myself. I had heard people talk about Him my whole life. I had grown up hearing the saying, Ask and you shall receive. Well I asked a thousand times for Him to save me from this miserable life that I lived and didn’t receive anything. I believed He existed but I didn’t believe He cared about me at all. Most of my life I spent in fear of my dad coming home. Hearing his engine pull into our driveway was a sure sign that I would be receiving a new bruise for who knew what. So I prayed for God to get me out of his reach with no answer to that prayer.

My dad was gone a lot and for that I was grateful. When he was gone I felt the slightest twinge of freedom. Since my mom worked so much I usually just did whatever I wanted. It drove my mom crazy when she couldn’t get a hold of me. I didn’t care. I never intended to hurt my mom’s feelings or scare her but I found myself doing it more often than not. She worked hard and did the best she knew how. She loved my dad so she continually made excuses for his behavior. I came to believe that she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone. I had no doubt that I made her feel worse each time I stepped out of line.

Katie was the good daughter. She went to school every day, tried hard to get good grades and never got into any real trouble. None of this saved her from the wrath of our father. So I preferred to earn my abuse. My attitude since moving to Colorado two years prior had gotten horribly out of hand. I thought, why be good if you still got beat up for it. Standing up to him gave me a small feeling of control over my destiny. I figured eventually it would be worth it by making me stronger. I just never saw any incentive to be a good kid. It would cost me over and over again.

At 15 years old, I danced with my friends, pretending to be happy and actually enjoying myself. For once, I was following the rules and enjoying myself. My best friend, Jesse, was at my side. She was the only person in my life that knew the truth. She didn’t say anything to anyone because I had asked her not to. I knew that the repercussion from people finding out would be worse than a beating. She was the one person I could trust with everything, the only confidant that I had. I was certain that people suspected after arriving at school so many times covered in huge welts but no one ever questioned me after I told them, I trained horses. My bruises had an excuse from that point forward.

I continued to dance with Jesse and the handful of friends surrounding us when out of nowhere he walked into the room. He was tall with broad shoulders. From where I stood he looked as if God broke the mold with him. I knew he was older just by the way he walked. He carried himself with a purpose. He walked across the room, avoiding all of the clicks, sitting near the edge of the dance floor. There were tables surrounding the room that seemed to have no purpose other than to be out of the way. He had another guy with him that looked younger, less mature. The other guy had headed straight over to the stoners and skaters group while he sat quickly observing the room. I felt a strong compulsion to go talk to him.

I touched Jesse’s arm and motioned towards him. She smiled a reassuring smile and we walked across the room to sit directly behind him on one of the tables. I was normally a very shy person. I preferred to keep to myself around people I didn’t know to avoid any awkwardness. Tonight the courage was overflowing. I giggled, like a school-girl would, and Jesse couldn’t help but giggle too. She knew what I was thinking before I said anything. He turned to look at us and his smile made my heart melt. He was overwhelmingly gorgeous. He looked like a Calvin Klein model. His skin looked soft and warm. His eyes seemed to pierce my very soul. At that moment, I felt like the whole world had suddenly disappeared and him and I were the only ones left. There was no way I could stand another minute without talking to him.

I gently tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned I nearly lost all of my composure.

Hi, he said with a small laugh like I had amused him. His voice sent a jolt of excitement through me. He had a deep voice that flowed smoothly out of him.

Hi, I responded while regaining my courage, Wanna dance?

Sure. He stood up and turned to take my hand. He lead me to the dance floor, his hand in mine. We danced to the song that was playing. It was too fast. I wanted a slow song so that I could feel his beautiful, muscular arms holding me. It was a crazy thought. I was way too young to feel this way. I didn’t even know what I was feeling. It was so intense and overpowering. It was like the universe was drawing us to each other.

What’s your name? His voice broke into my thoughts.

It was a simple question but for a moment I just couldn’t respond. The courage swelled up again, like I had been storing it up for this very moment.

Trinity, I responded sheepishly.

I’m Tristan, he said, once again sending my heart and mind into a tailspin of emotions I had never felt before.

He smiled at me as I asked him the next obvious question that popped into my head, How old are you?

I feared his answer before he spoke knowing that this could cause the worst kind of trouble I had ever faced. Yet, I didn’t care. He was absolutely perfect.

18, he said, then returned the question.

For a moment, I considered lying but it would have been pointless in a town this small. My parents had moved us to this tiny mountain town to escape the violence of the big city. At least, that is what they told Katie and I. I loved it but had very few friends. I missed the ocean and the warm humidity of California. I didn’t mind giving that all up for the beautiful mountains.

I’m 15, I told him, sounding more like an apology than a statement.

You don’t look 15, he said with a warm, welcoming smile. I returned his smile and the dancing continued. A slow song finally started, after what seemed like an eternity. He wrapped his warm arms around my waist and pulled me so close that I thought I was going to stop breathing from excitement. I responded by placing my hands on the back of his neck. He was so tall that I nearly had to stand on the tips of my toes to reach around him. His shoulders were strong and his eyes were a piercing, crystal clear blue. We moved in perfect synchronization with each other. It was just us. Everyone else in the room seemed to disappear. I stared into his eyes, felling a pain in my heart since I knew this moment couldn’t last. I didn’t want it to end. I could stay in his arms forever. My mind struggled to stay logical. I was too young and it would be three more miserable years before I could taste the freedom that I so longed for. He was probably a senior with less than a year left before he would disappear. He was already old enough to be free from the bindings of childhood. Why would he be interested in someone like me that seemed to be bound forever? I wanted to cry at the injustice of my life. I decided at the moment that I would just try to enjoy the moment and suffer for it later. Hope tried to sneak up in my heart and I quickly buried it deep down before it caused permanent damage.

Would you excuse me for just a minute? I need to use the restroom. He smiled sheepishly. I waited with Jesse while I counted the seconds until he returned. He came back and I met him on the dance floor. A slow love song played while the clocked ticked on too quickly. We never broke our hold on each other. Our bodies molded together like they were designed for each other. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone near the entrance and a sense of dread filled me. The time had come for the moment to end. My mom had just walked in. It was time to go home and face my misery once again. My lonely, miserable existence was all I had to look forward to.

My mom is here. I have to go, I whispered in his ear. His warm breath caressed my ear and neck as he said, That’s okay. I have to go anyway. I will walk you out.

I motioned to my mom that I was coming and I saw her walk out the entrance to go wait in the car. He surprised me by grasping my hand in his. His large hands swallowed mine. I felt so small and vulnerable. I wanted to cry. Why had I allowed myself this moment of incredible emotion. It would surely cost me dearly that night.

He walked me all the way to the car. I notice him wave to someone as if to say give me a minute. A man stood by a nearby car, waving back. Then the man retreated to the driver’s seat of his car. My mom glanced out the window but didn’t approach which I was both confused about and grateful for. She had a tendency to put her nose into all of my business which I figured was just a motherly trait. Perhaps if she had intervened my life would have taken a very different turn. Yet, she didn’t.

He stopped far enough away from the car to avoid eavesdropping ears. He smiled and gave me a strong hug. His arms felt like a comfort that was unreal. He leaned down and gently kissed my cheek. He handed me a folded up piece of paper and said two words that would ring in my ears all night. Call me.

Then he walked away leaving me alone and desolate again. That evil feeling of hope crept up and I tried to push it down but it had suddenly become too strong to ignore. I walked to the passenger side of the car and got in. I took a deep breath trying to avoid my mom’s gaze. She looked at me with a gentle smile and softly asked, Who was that? There was no accusation in her tone. She sounded truly curious and cautious all at the same time.

Just a guy I met at the dance, I responded trying to sound casual.

He looks a little old for you, she said still smiling.

Yeah, he is 18, I was always brutally honest with my mom. I knew she meant well but I just wanted her to drop it.

Will you be seeing him again? She asked almost too cautiously this time.

I don’t know, which was the truest statement I could ever have said. She must have noticed the sadness in my voice but she left it along, driving home to return me to the life I so desperately wanted to escape.

At home I wasn’t sure what I would face. All I wanted to do was run to my room and hide. I was exhausted. I had a whole weekend of misery to look forward to. There was rarely anything to look forward to. I wanted to look at the piece of paper that was sitting in the pocket of my jeans. I didn’t dare reveal its presence outside of the confines of my room. I knew my mom wouldn’t approve and my dad would probably throw it away before I could look at it. I was afraid that my mom would mention Tristan to my dad and who knew how he would react to that. If she told him after I went to bed maybe he would let me sleep and beat me up in the morning. Maybe I would get lucky and he would forget by morning. I guess I just had to face it and deal with whatever was to come.

As we pulled into the driveway, I felt a sense of relief to see my dad’s car was gone. I looked at my mom’s face. Pain filled her eyes. This was her usual reaction to his absence. I hated to see her like that. She always seemed so sad. She put on a happy face but I could see it. She was the only person in my life that seemed to be more miserable than me. She was much better at hiding it. I was sure that she had once been happy with him. Otherwise, why would she have had me and Katie. I never remembered seeing her happy. I would have given up my entire existence to see her smile a real smile, just once. I knew my attitude didn’t help but I just wasn’t ready to give up that little bit of control. No one could control what I said or how I said it. I clung to that causing myself and those around me pain. I figured that she and I would be great friends once I moved out. Unfortunately, the incentive to change my attitude wouldn’t be there until then. I tried not to think about it but deep down I blamed her for my dad’s abuse. She chose to stay with him even though she saw and felt the abuse. I still thought that one day she would wake up but doubt overtook that thought every time he raised his hand to any of us.

I walked into the house, said goodnight to my mom and Katie. Then I headed for my room. Jesse would be home and I could chat with her online. I had so much to tell her about Tristan. I was sure she already knew him since she had lived here her entire life. She knew everyone. It was an opportunity for me to find out all that I could about him. As I headed for my room, I decided a nice, hot shower sounded good. I quickly changed my mind. I would wait for the morning so I could have more time to talk to Jesse and to read the note Tristan had given me.

It was then I heard the sound from the engine that I dreaded, pulling into the driveway. He was home and there was an immediate pit in my stomach. We never knew what mood or state of mind he would be in when he walked through the door. I quickly undressed, throwing on a pair of shorts and t-shirt. I jumped into bed trying to fall asleep before the yelling started. I remembered that small, folded piece of paper in my jeans and all the questions I had for Jesse but they would have to wait for the morning. I couldn’t face him tonight. I had nothing left in me. All of my strength was gone and I swore to never face him when I felt weak and vulnerable. I couldn’t let him see me that way.

I heard the door open and my mom say something that sounded like a greeting. My dad returned the greeting in a decent voice but there was no emotion behind it. I thought it was possible he was going to be civil that night. The tense feeling of fear began to subside. I lied down in my bed listening just in case my mom would need me. I was always running to her rescue when the fighting would begin. I felt like if I could shield her then he wouldn’t hurt her. Katie must have felt the same way because she reacted the same way to every fight that they got in to. I feared one day he would lose control and I wouldn’t be there to stop him. I wasn’t strong and I was quite small but I knew how to fight. Around the age of six a man had tried to coerce me into his car. There was no doubt of his intentions since he was nude from the waist down but I walked away unharmed. After that my father began teaching me self defense. He had told me I needed it in a big city in order to survive. I had never thought I would feel the desperate need to use it in my own home until the first time I saw him hurt my mom. My mom was far from defenseless but she wasn’t strong enough to fight off a crazy man. I was six years old and they were fighting, as usual. He started throwing things. Katie and I were screaming but it had no effect on him. It was like we were not even there. He lunged at her causing her to fall onto the couch. He jumped on her and started choking her. I ran to her and pulled, as hard as a six year old is capable of, on his arm. I screamed at him but he wouldn’t budge. He had a crazed look in his eyes that I had never seen so intense before. I knew I was too little to pull him off so I jumped on his back pulling his hair. He let go of her and threw me to the floor. I missed slamming my head into our coffee table by an inch. I ran to my mom’s side as he stormed out of the front door. There was no relief as his engine sped up the street because we knew he would return. Like a bad penny, he always returned.

I must have fallen asleep during my reflection on the past. The nightmare began in the same place every night. I had had this nightmare since that horrible incident when I was six. The room was flooded with sunlight coming in from the sliding glass door. The brown carpet felt soft on my bare feet. The grey, fluffy couch was close to the door. The yelling had drawn me to the living room of our old house. It had escalated into screaming as I tip toed out of the kitchen. He had turned into the crazy man standing over my mom as she cowered on the couch. The light reflected on something shiny in his hand. I was horrified to realize it was a small, silver handgun. He raised it to point it at her. I ran to her to help her but was frozen in place facing the couch from the opposite side of the coffee table. He stood over her as she screamed at him to stop. She pleaded with him to put the gun down. He pointed the gun directly at her heart. I screamed again when I felt my feet move. I was running but I couldn’t reach her. As the gun went off, I woke up pouring sweat. I was completely out of breath. My chest hurt like I had been running for miles. I turned to look at the clock that read 5:15am. I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I knew the nightmare would repeat itself. I wasn’t sure I wanted to get up either but I knew my mom would be up any moment to get ready for work. She always poked her head in before she left to check on me. I didn’t have it in me to pretend to be asleep. I slipped out of bed and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. White it brewed, I went back to my room to get some clothes to wear that day and my homework that was due Monday. I was too tired to work on my homework. I would finish it after my shower. I heard my mom up and moving around. Then the water started running. I sat down at the kitchen table waiting for her to be done so I could get in the shower. Her showers were always quick so I poured us both a cup of coffee. She walked into the kitchen noticing me sitting there with my coffee in my hand and her coffee sitting across from me. She looked slightly surprised, although, this had become a regular routine over the years. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept past seven o’clock in the morning. I seemed to be the only teenager that got up early every day without an alarm clock or a good reason.

What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? her concern was clear. She knew I had nightmares but I never told her what they were about. There was no reason to make her worry any more than she already did.

I played it down to ease her concern, I had a bad dream that woke me up. I figured I would just get up and have some coffee with you. Besides, I have homework and chores to do anyway.

She still looked concerned, Do you want to talk about it?

It really wasn’t a big deal, Mom. Just a little scary. I’m fine. Really.

Okay. Well we can have some coffee before I go off to work. Thanks for making it.

Your welcome. I smiled to show her I really was okay. I had taken my first sip of coffee when I was five years old. Enjoying it so much I tried to make it a routine to have coffee with my mom. No one else got up that early so the house was peaceful and quiet.

Hey, Mom, do you think I could go up to the shopping center today? Of course, I will finish my homework and chores first. I asked with little hope of a positive answer. I was rarely allowed out of the house for anything that didn’t include an adult. Usually, over protective was an understatement when it came to me leaving the house. I just hated the thought of being in the house with my dad there while she was at work.

She thought about it for a minute and then turned towards her purse. She reached in pulling out a twenty dollar bill. She handed it to me and said, Please make sure everything is done first. I will let your dad know that I said you could go. Be back by curfew, okay?

Wow, thanks, Mom. I will, I said surprised and relieved all in the same breath.

Well, I gotta go to work. I will see you later tonight. I love you.

I love you too, I said but the words really had no strong emotion behind them. It had nothing to do with whether I loved her or not. It had just become routine to say it. The word love tends to lose its meaning when you say it so often without putting any true feeling behind it.

I listened for the sound of her car pulling away. I gulped down what was left of my coffee and headed for the shower. The water was hot and steamy. It felt incredible as I let it run down my back. I had made it a simple goal in life to fill the bathroom with as much steam as I could to emulate the humidity I missed so much. I loved Colorado but the dry air was miserable. I got out after a nice, long shower. I quickly got ready to leave the house. I brushed my hair and threw on a small amount of makeup. I breathed in the steam for a few minutes when my mind wandered back to the night before. It was then I remembered the small, folded up piece of paper in my jeans. I opened the bathroom door, steam billowing out, and headed for the jeans I had worn the night before. I reached in the pocket and pulled out the note Tristan had handed me. Sitting on the edge of my bed starring at the paper, I thought about my plans for the day. I glanced at the clock that read 7:00am. The time had flown by quickly since I woke up so early. Soon Katie and my dad would be waking up. I opened the piece of paper. In small, perfect print, it read:

Trinity,

Call me tomorrow. I would like to get to know you better.

Tristan

He put his phone number at the bottom of the paper in larger print than the rest of the note. I sat there in shock. It was not at all what I had expected. Actually, I didn’t know what to expect. I was running through my mind all the ways I could call him without my dad knowing. Nothing was going to work. Then I remembered the money in my pocket. I would call him from a pay phone and the center. I folded the paper back up and shoved it into my pocket after memorizing his phone number. I was trying to remember when he would have had time to write it. We only stopped dancing once to take a short bathroom break. I vaguely remembered it. I was so absorbed by him that I must have pushed the short separation from my mind.

I walked back into the kitchen to do my homework before starting my chores. Nothing opened before nine o’clock anyway, so I had plenty of time to get everything done. I finished my homework in twenty minutes. I began cleaning up my books and papers when Katie walked in.

Good morning, I said flatly.

Hey, we better get this house clean before Dad wakes up. I’m going to Michelle’s house today and I don’t want him pissed off before I leave, she said in her usual bossy tone.

I’m working on it, I shot back at her angrily, I just had to finish my homework. I don’t know why I felt the need to try to explain things to her but I usually did.

She shrugged and started picking up anything out of place in the living room. Our house was usually immaculate but my dad would find any excuse to make us clean. If he noticed a speck of dust out of the corner of his eye, he would make us start cleaning all over again until he was satisfied. I quickly put my school stuff back in my backpack in my room. We cleaned until the whole house sparkled. It didn’t take long since it was perfect already. My dad finally woke up around nine. He got a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. He left a mess where he had poured his cup. I took a rag and cleaned up the coffee that had spilled and the sugar that had spread all over the counter. I half thought he made the mess on purpose just to keep us busy.

You two better get this house clean before you go anywhere, he snapped at us. We just nodded and tried to find more to clean while he sat there saying nothing. It was apparent he had a hangover. From what, only God Himself would know. He looked angry. He always looked angry, although, we could never figure out why.

He looked at me while I wiped down the counters in the kitchen for the third time just so I would look busy. "What are you doing today?" He asked, his voice filled with malice. I could practically feel the hatred flow from him in my direction.

Mom said I could go shopping today. I thought I might go to the park after that, if that’s okay, he tended to respond better when I formed things like a question. He wanted to be in control. I waited for his explosion that never came.

He grunted and turned to Katie, And you?

I’m spending the rest of the weekend with Michelle, she said looking scared and angry but holding firm.

Whatever. I’m leaving. Tell your mom I will be home late, he scowled as he got up, tossed his mug in the sink and walked out the front door.

We didn’t move until the sound of his car was completely gone. It seemed like forever that we both held our breath. Then with a deep breath and sigh of relief we both got ready to go our separate ways. I practically ran to my room and threw my good, walking shoes on. It was a warm day for October but I grabbed my coat anyway. It was impossible to tell what the weather would do. It was always so unpredictable because of the mountains. I wanted until Katie left before I showed much sign of leaving the house. I decided to call Tristan from the house since everyone else was gone. Hopefully, he wasn’t busy today and he could meet me at the center. I was desperate to see him again.

I picked up the phone to dial his number. It rang a few times before a man answered, Hello. His voice was warm and friendly.

Hello, is Tristan there? I tried to put on my best phone manners. My mom had always taught me that you never got a second chance at a first impression. If this was Tristan’s dad I wanted him to like me.

Can I tell him who is calling? He asked politely.

This is Trinity. We met at the dance last night.

Hang on one second and I will get him, he said in a manner that seemed so foreign to me. There was gentleness to this man. I wondered if anyone had ever been that nice to me. Not just in the words said but in the way they were spoken. I knew the answer to that without thinking much about it. There hadn’t been.

I heard him call to Tristan that he had a phone call. Tristan asked who was calling. He sounded busy. My heart sank at the possibility that he had just given me the note to be nice. I thought I might be bothering him. His dad whispered something I didn’t understand. Within seconds, Tristan was on the phone.

Hello? he sounded happy. My heart jumped at the sound of his voice. The courage I had felt the night before slowly started to creep up.

"Hello. This is Trinity. We met last