Her Shattered Wings

By John Randall Meulman

Shattered Wings is more than a suspense thriller about a brutal rapist and his victim. It is a hard look at the courts and our legal system. This intense, fast paced novel takes you into the mind of Julie Stevenson whose world is shattered by horrifying violence, and Raymond Carter, a tormented misfit who knows only desire, disappointment and ha

• Language: English
• Publisher: Best Book Writers
• Release date: Oct 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781961407527

Book preview

Preface

A sudden puff of wind gently stirs the stars and stripes on top of the old Plaza Hotel in the waning moments of daylight as the heart of Dallas readies itself for the evening. The commuter traffic dwindles to a trickle, leaving only an occasional passing vehicle to break the silence of the reawakening giant. A toothless woman clothed in rags swaggers slowly, mouthing soundless words with meanings known only to her. A drunk, clad in dirty green trousers and a tattered gray sweater, sits in an idle doorway, solving the world's problems with incessant babblings connected only with emptiness. As the lengthening shadows grow, they disguise the faces of the many vacant buildings long abandoned for want of more attractive locations. The city within a city emerges, taking on a form of its own, unknown by most who live in the light of day.

Chapter 1

November 4, 2022

Raymond Carter appeared from the alley that ran parallel to Young Street, carrying a small sack containing his evening's wine. His 5’11, stocky frame, with dark, matted hair, evidenced his nickname, Greaseball.

That bitch at the unemployment office can stick it up her ass! he thought. He had gotten his last check. He sipped at the bottle of White port as he watched a speckled starling pick around the bags of trash that lay up against the dirty, orange brick wall.

The sun, filtered behind the buildings, made it seem later than it really was, and the temperature was dropping quickly. The large red hands of the old clock on top of the Mercantile Building read twenty minutes to seven.

Raymond sat with his back against the wall, knees drawn to his chest, while his right boot fidgeted with the loose gravel as he waited for the girls to come out of the old three-story building across the street. One girl in particular had caught his eye a couple of days before. She looked like some of the girls in his magazines, the type that would always look down on him. The kind he fantasized about having.

Through darkened windows, he could see movement on the second floor. They seemed to be running and jumping, yet he was unable to get a clear image. He felt restless with the waiting. A black and white siren blaring turned from Wood to Pearl, heading south. The siren made him uneasy. He wanted to run. Raymond knew the town well, the old buildings, every alley and side street. His knowledge of the area had saved him more than once from a trip to jail, although he had a long record of offenses ranging from aggravated assault to indecent exposure. He had spent time in the county jail but had escaped doing any hard time at Huntsville.

He watched the door with anticipation. Come on bitch, show me your sweet little ass, he pleaded as he took another sip from the bottle. Growing anxious, Raymond was ready to leave when he saw the door open. She came running down the steps, breasts bouncing. As he stumbled to his feet, his fixation never wavered.

She fumbled with her handbag as she watched the light. Walking rapidly, she headed east on Young Street. Raymond cut through a parking lot, careful not to follow too closely, his eyes focused on her firm buttocks. At Central, she turned right, crossed the street to her car, quickly got in, and drove away. He hurried down the street, ducking into a nearby alley. Kneeling between two dumpsters, he dropped his jeans, exposing his penis. As it swelled in his hand, he began jerking in a frenzied motion, envisioning her firm white breasts with pink nipples as he sucked and fondled them. I want to fuck your pussy, he whispered. He imagined the black hair surrounding her vagina and could visualize cramming himself into her. As the semen discharged from his body, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

He soon discovered her routine, and he waited for her. Watching for the old Chevy, he would park as close as possible without risking discovery. His penis exposed and covered by a newspaper; he'd slump down in the seat anticipating her arrival. He would imagine making her lie down on her back. Straddling her, he would put his ass in her face as she licked him. Stick your tongue in, whore, he would command. Turning around, he would jack off on her face. Soon, his feelings of hostility heightened, especially after seeing her with the punk who came to meet her. At times, he contemplated killing her. He wanted to kill both of them after he took her in front of him.

He knew who she was, nothing more than a whore. He would take from her what she valued so much. He had taken it from the others, only they weren't quite as pretty as this one. He'd shown them who was boss. He'd show her as well.

***

Julie made the slow drive home after a frustrating rehearsal. She was tired and sore, her mind preoccupied with events of the day. That morning, she had another fight with her mother. Lately, it seemed every time they talked, the conversation turned into a quarrel: Julie, you're spending too much time with your dancing, and your studies are suffering.

Charlotte felt the dancers in the company were a bad influence on her daughter, but when she had started in on Chris, it had proven to be too much for Julie: You're seeing more of that boy than you should, and at your age, no good will come of it. Julie, he's not Catholic!

At that moment, Julie's frustration had boiled over, and she'd reminded her mother that her father, being Catholic, hadn't kept him around. What difference does it make if you're in love? she contested.

Why does she have to fight me on everything I want? Julie thought, braking her car as she neared the gates of the tollway. Julie liked the old building housing the Dallas Ballet Company, as it gave her a feeling of authenticity. A great number of artists chose to live in abject poverty rather than to prostitute their profession. If necessary, she would choose the same. I don't care what Mom thinks, she said to herself determinedly. It's my life, and I'll live it my way. Digging through her purse in search of lipstick, Julie hoped Christopher would be waiting when she got home. He was a junior at the University of North Texas, an all-conference football player, and president of Theta Chi. Although outwardly he appeared self-assured, even to the point of being cocky, Julie knew the sensitive, gentle side of his personality. Those qualities had often surfaced during the times they’d been together.

***

It had been over a year since they'd met. Strolling through the midway at the State Fair, taking in the scent of popcorn, simmering hot dogs, and orange pop, she and Jeanie had stopped to buy caramel apples. Turning around to leave the concession, she bumped smack into that large letter jacket. Glancing up, she caught a boyish grin, green eyes, blond hair, high cheekbones, and a square jaw. She felt dwarfed by his size.

She had always detested the game of football, thinking it not only absurd but brutal. Those who played the game had not interested her until her eyes and those of Chris met. His apology was awkward and shy. She started to leave when he asked her name. Julie, she replied softly.

They spent the rest of the day together. It was the first time anyone ever won her a panda bear. When the Ferris wheel finally stopped, their feet never quite touched the ground.

Julie had vowed to save herself for the man she would marry, but as time passed, it was getting more difficult. She was all mixed up about her feelings. For years, she had attended confession weekly, but now it had been almost three months since she had gone. She enjoyed the sensations of her developing sexuality yet feared them at the same time. Sometimes, she felt an overwhelming desire to experience intercourse. She loved it when Chris fondled her breasts, yet afterward, she was haunted by feelings of guilt and fear. Confession magnified those feelings, so she simply stayed away. She didn't want to have to choose between her desires and God.

Christopher's ambition in life was to follow in the footsteps of his father, a businessman who had risen to the presidency of Standard Computers, Inc. Chris wanted to be able to travel and enjoy the many pleasures the world had to offer. He knew it took hard work and money. Julie, on the other hand, couldn't care less about money, though she, too, wanted to experience so many things.

Her desire was to become a great ballerina. Mastering control over her body in this, the purest art form, gave her feelings of true freedom. Often, as she danced, she felt like a bird learning to fly, as her wings soared towards the heavens. She loved the people associated with the company and felt at home in this world of beauty and creativity. While in high school, she had been written up in the Dallas Times Herald for her part in the company's annual production of The Nutcracker, having been hailed as a promising young dancer with unusual ability.

Though often paralyzed with self-doubt, she was gaining confidence in her talents. Chris had a way of motivating her, though his tactics often resembled those of a football coach. Julie, you've got it, he would say as he continually pushed her.

Nearing the house, she again hoped he'd be waiting so they could get away before her mother got home. It was already turning dark as she pulled into the driveway. He was there.

Have you been here long? she asked.

A few minutes.

I’m starving.

Me too, he replied. Do you think your mother would mind if we go out for a burger?

You know she'll mind, but we'll leave a note.

The wind had shifted to the north, dropping the temperature twenty degrees in the last hour. Julie cuddled up close to him. A quick trip through a fast-food restaurant left them heading toward Bachman's Lake, munching on French fries.

He could feel the warmth of her body against him as he pulled into the parking lot facing the water. The moon had already risen to its full height, and the wind had picked up, displaying thousands of glittering ballerinas dancing across the water. They sat in silence as he gently stroked the side of her face and then fondled the back of her neck. After several minutes without a word spoken, Julie looked longingly into his face. Their lips met. She gently caressed his face with her lips slightly parted. I love you, she whispered.

Chris yearned for the time Julie would let him come into her. Those feelings tugged at him now. As though reading his mind, she opened her mouth wide as they clung together. Their tongues coupled, wanting more. His hands moved over her body, the intensity mounting.

Massaging the soft texture of her sweater, his hand came to rest gently on her breast, his fingers forming a cradle as he slowly caressed her. Her breathing quickened as she pressed against him. Sliding a hand around her waist, he enjoyed the silken skin of her back. Then, moving with purpose, he released the catch on her bra and lightly stroked a firm nipple. Her breath was coming in gasps as his fingers crept under her loose cotton skirt. He felt her legs slightly part as he slipped his hand into her panties. Feeling the soft skin and then her pubic hair and the wetness around the lips of her vagina, he gently slid his finger inside her.

Please, Christopher, no, she sighed.

Slowly, he pulled his hand away, the intensity still building within him. As he drew her on top of him, their bodies moved together. Starting with a slow, harmonious rhythm, they rubbed, the pace quickening until the explosion came within him. After a few moments, he struggled to get back into his seat behind the wheel.

Julie straightened her clothes, feeling confused. She was sexually aroused, and the inevitable guilt returned. After several moments of silence, Chris was the first to speak. We better get going before your mother really gets pissed.

Julie remained quiet, besieged with nagging thoughts of judgment. The immoral adulterers, fornicators will not inherit the kingdom of...

What's wrong, Julie?

Several moments passed before she spoke. I'm not sure this is right, Christopher. Maybe we should wait.

Julie, we love each other. When two people love each other, what could be wrong?

I don't know, but it's how I feel.

Christopher's irritation grew as he spoke. You mean if we stand in front of a priest and get God's divine approval, then is it okay? I suppose after we're married, the only time to have intercourse is when we want children.

Tears filled her eyes. She didn't know what to believe or say. When Chris noticed the tears, his anger melted away. Honey, I'm sorry. If you want to wait, we'll wait. I do love you. With that, he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him.

As he was nearing the house, his thoughts turned toward Charlotte. God, his pants were a mess! He hoped he could bring Julie to the door and get back to his car without a confrontation with the old lady. He knew that many of Julie's hangups had to do with that self-righteous bitch. He would be glad to see the day when Julie was free from her.

Chapter 2

The following Friday found Julie running up the steps to rehearsal, anticipating the evening's practice. She was a few minutes early and met Michael as she entered the large, barren room with its black floor tile. The walls were covered with mirrors, and handrails lined the room. A piano stood conspicuously in the corner.

Ms. Stevenson, you look absolutely ravishing.

Why, thank you, Mr. Leon.

Michael Leon stood five feet, nine inches tall, had jet black hair combed straight back, and was slender with dainty features. Julie loved him for his patience with her and the special attention he lavished upon her with extra hours of instruction, which had greatly increased her skills. Michael had been the primary force that enabled Julie to reach beyond her feelings of doubt and