Trauma Bonds

By Nataley Niehaus

Karmen Adamson is young, but she's already experienced adversity in her life. Kicked out of her parent's house at the age of eighteen, she moved in with her best friend, and now at twenty-one is learning about herself. In touch with her femininity but strong and independent, she works as an exotic dancer, but she makes sure she never falls prey to the vices the profession offers in its underbelly. 

 

Until she meets Judah. 

 

Handsome, mysterious, and charming, Judah enters Karmen's life at a time when she feels betrayed by her best friend, and she's confused about her next steps and what she's going to do to move forward. As Karmen falls down the path of drugs, sex, and shady dealings with Judah, her addictions take over. Karmen's path is tumultuous, filled with deep despair and brief moments of hope. Amidst the disruption caused by Judah, she occasionally sees glimpses of the person she aspires to be - a woman embodying strength, dignity, and grace. The nights spent at the club serve as both a sanctuary and a battleground, where she wrestles with the contrast of her life: the temptation of the dark world she is in and the resilient spirit inside her that craves a better tomorrow.

 

Trauma Bonds is a story of redemption for a twenty-one-year-old woman, out on her own, trying to become the best version of herself or who she thinks she should be. She struggles, and she thrives, and ultimately where Karmen lands totally depends on how she handles the trauma she experiences along the way.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nataley Niehaus
• Release date: Sep 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224732685

Book preview

Trigger Warnings

Prostitution

Detailed opioid use

Rape

To those who have been a survivor of domestic violence, I am so sorry.

To those who have been a survivor of substance abuse, be careful reading this, your sobriety is everything.

To those who have been a survivor of sexual assault or rape, I see you.

I see all of you.

Chapter One

Karmen

Igrabbed the Ping-Pong ball and squeezed it firmly, Ruth’s dwindling cups faced me, she only had four left. I attempted a predictably missed shot. I knew I would; I had jinxed it in my head.

Damn it!

Drink, hoe, Ruth said playfully, giving off a shit-eating grin.

"Why did you have to get the worst alcohol? I drew the cup to my nose and cringed at the sensation of it burning my nostrils, but I downed it. Aren’t we supposed to use beer instead of liquor?" I said, grimacing at the burn in my throat.

Ruth shrugged. Whatever. It makes it more fun, am I right? She tossed the ball, and it flew past me.

Nice shot, I teased as I held up my thumb and index finger to form an L. She gave me the bird in return. You’re going to be wasted before everyone comes over. You better tap. She took the drink and poured it down her throat. I watched the roll of her neck as she swallowed. She slapped the empty cup onto the table, which caused her to leave a lazy smile on her face. I can’t stand you, I said.

Suddenly, there was a heavy tread stomping down the stairs. It was Ruth’s dad, Mike. He was a different breed. Because of the way he looked and with his age, he appeared to be sophisticated. Maybe it’s the glasses or maybe the swoop of his salt and pepper hair that always laid perfectly without a baby hair to be seen. He always wore his shirt tucked into his pants. Now that I thought about it, I’d never seen a stain on his shirt, never saw his beard get any longer or shorter. It’d always been the same. He always had been very meticulous about his appearance but a five-minute conversation with him would always prove that appearances were deceiving. At sixty years old, he could handle his weed. He would always be a second dad to me.

I smashed my hands onto my hips. Mike narrowed his eyes as he hit the last stair. You owe me, I teased. He looked over at the ceiling while I tapped my foot. I gave him a little push—his shoulders slumped and broke the facade. C’mon, I gave you my last gram of weed! At least let me hit that. I eyed the joint he gripped between his pointer and middle finger. He laughed and walked over to the couch disregarding me.

Uh, that’s not going to work. I walked toward the couch and sat beside him. He glared at me, lit up a joint, and passed it over to me. Yeah, that’s what I thought. I broke the serious expression, pressed the joint in between my lips, and busted out laughing.

Mike turned his attention to Ruth. When is everyone coming for the party? Remember the limit is ten people, no more.

Ruth was mute; she was glued to her phone.

Mike rolled his eyes and nudged me. Can you believe this? He smiled then whispered, Huh, since my daughter can’t pay attention to me, guess who’ll get my inheritance when I die. He beamed.

Ruth still didn’t hear him as Mike reached the table and grabbed an empty water bottle. He tossed it at her.

Dad, what the hell, Ruth whined.

Mike stood up and jumped a few times. Yeah! There’s plenty more where that came from.

Watch it, old man, Ruth warned.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, to hide my laughter at his silliness.

Ruth darted upstairs. Mike and I stared at each other in deafening silence until we heard the pitter-patter of her running around upstairs. Then we heard her fly down the steps and she came back with a spray bottle—a spray bottle like he was a damn cat.

Her eyebrows raised; she had a mischievous grin. Play with me, motherfucker. I jumped up from the couch and stood beside her.

Hey! Whose side are you on? he exclaimed.

Ruth started spraying Mike frantically as I was fortunate enough to have the joint to myself; they chased each other around the room like headless chickens. The carpet had drops of water on it and Mike’s hair was soaked. I swore they had the strangest father-daughter relationship, but I envied it. Ruth collapsed on the couch.

Okay, I give up, but you better watch your back, she said. I plopped down next to her and handed her the joint.

Hey! That’s barely a roach, Mike complained about an inch of the joint left.

Haha! I told you; you owed me, I said. Ruth smiled at me, and I nuzzled up to her.

People are pulling up. Dad, get out! Ruth demanded.

Mike jumped off the couch and grimaced. Ruth returned the gesture and shooed him off. He mocked her as he ascended the stairs.

My best friends, Ruth and Mike, and I lived in Orlando, Florida, about thirty minutes from my parents. Mike gave us a free pass to throw parties in his basement because he preferred us to drink under his roof rather than risk getting into trouble while driving under the influence.

It seemed average but it was home. Though they had their flaws like everyone else, I didn’t mind the imperfections. If it were up to me, I could have lived with them forever.

The basement was nice enough for any average family, with a cool pool table and a fantastic seventy-five-inch TV. The carpet, which was from the nineties and had stains, covered the floor. The walls displayed posters of popular movies like Freddy vs. Jason, Batman, and Superman…to mention a few. But it remained a finished basement.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew my attention to the doorway. I could never remember who Ruth invited. She jumped into Malcolm’s arms. I nestled into the couch with a bottle of vodka in hand, since it was all Ruth wanted to drink tonight. Lucas approached me with his shaggy brown hair, dark-brown eyes, and a classic Bob Marley T-shirt.

What are you up to…hiding? He sat on the couch beside me and reached for the joint. I could feel the invasion of memories from our past together creeping into my thoughts. I pushed them back.

I am just hanging out. You know I don’t like people.

Lucas hummed. Why not? Try to socialize.

Settling on the couch, I leaned my head back. "I can’t imagine being friends with anyone like that." I subtly nudged my head toward the girl behind me, cackling and being sloppy. I didn’t understand the point of coming to a party if you are already shit-faced. At some point, call it a night. Some people took pre-gaming too seriously.

What’s wrong with her?

I choked. You must not know me at all. These people are fillers for Ruth, not me. I am completely content with partying on my own.

Okay…fillers? Lucas scrunched his eyebrows together.

I absentmindedly scratched my arm while I mulled over the idea. You know, acquaintances, or those who don’t really play a significant role in your life, I wanted to say that I couldn’t trust anyone. The thought of getting close to anyone but Ruth and Mike made my skin crawl, but I would not tell him that, not exactly.

We all have those filler friends. The issue arises when that filler friend digs into your personal life and then spills the beans to their own filler friends. I shrugged, a hint of frustration in my voice.

Lucas giggled. You said, ‘Spill the beans’.

I broke my serious expression and let out a laugh. Is there something better I could have said? I asked.

Lucas stretched his arms and sunk deeper into the couch. I don’t know. Maybe let the cat out of the bag?

That’s still cliché. Guess you can’t do much better than me, I teased.

We have a lot more in common than I thought. Lucas’s hand grazed mine, missing by mere millimeters. My hands found their way into my lap. He continued, Why don’t you get laid?"

How do you know that I’m not getting laid? I changed the topic before it was too late. Where you been anyway? I hugged myself and sunk deeper into the couch, allowing the liquor to take over.

Lucas brushed his fingers through his hair. Ah, it’s a long story. My brother… he— He sucked in a sharp breath. Maybe I’ll get around to talking about it. He reached for the bottle in my hand, our fingers briefly overlapping. He took a swig and relaxed beside me on the couch.

I missed you, I murmured.

I know. He winked, giving me a big grin.

Can I lay on you without it being weird? I’m tired I slurred.

Please don’t throw up on me. I just bought this shirt.

You just bought it? All the love to Bob Marley, but I thought you dug that out of your middle school closet. I nuzzled my head on his chest and his heart rate increased against my ear and his whole body stilled. "Lucas."

Yes, Karmen?

I told you not to make it weird. And even though I felt my heart race, I could drown out the music and the voices with only his heartbeat. I knew we could never happen, regardless of how I felt. I had feelings, but I was afraid of becoming too emotionally invested. I always would.

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Karmen, Karmen. I heard a comforting, singsong voice that I loved to wake up to. A groan escaped from me. I opened my eyes, and Ruth held a cup of coffee, then waved it in my face with a dopey expression. I shooed it away and raced to the bathroom, I hit the toilet just in time and puked my everything up.

Damn, Karmen. I didn’t think you drank that much.

It’s the fucking vodka. It never sits right with me.

Here. Ruth handed me two oval-shaped pills, Tylenol. I swallowed them and they lingered in my throat. I continued to drink the water from the sink to wash them down.

You were getting cuddly with Lucas. How cute, Ruth said jokingly.

No. He’s nice to lie on, though. I retorted, pushing my feelings down. My arms stretched out and I let out a yawn. I’m looking at the apartment later today. Do you want to come and check it out with me?

I wish I could, but I have a shift at two-thirty, which, speaking of, I need to get ready for. You don’t need to leave so soon, Karmen. You’ve only been here for a year, and I don’t plan on moving out anytime soon. The economy is tough.

First off, I want a cat. Second, I really would hate for your dad to end up hating me like my parents do.

Karmen, I don’t have time to argue with you. My dad loves you, and this will always be your second home. You need to remember that. Ruth kissed me on the cheek and hurried upstairs.

Emerging from the bathroom, I wearily navigated past the disarray in the basement and ascended the initial flight of steps, mustering my strength to get to the second story, leading to my room. Although the room itself may have appeared boring, it had big windows, casting prismatic hues upon the carpeted floor. A futon bed found its place against the wall, while a makeshift stand held a thirty-inch TV.

I organized the contents of my existence neatly within the confines of the closet. After selecting a simple ensemble comprising a crisp, long-sleeved white shirt and pastel-blue skinny jeans, I donned my trusty Converse sneakers. I flung the door open and descended the staircase.

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Here we have a one bedroom, one bath request. The apartment is perfect for animal lovers, with a small fee of $25 per month. It comes equipped with a dishwasher and there’s a community laundromat available. Would you like to view it

Absolutely, thank you!

The apartment manager guided me through the halls and up the stairs of the complex. As we walked, I noticed a funky smell, but the manager assured me the issue would be fixed.

The apartment manager inserted the key to the unit and stood with the door open to let me in.

You can check it out for a few minutes; I have to return some calls if that’s okay? She closed the door before I could respond.

In front of me was a ridiculously cheap apartment that was beaten down, but anything would do. From the entrance, I could see the medium-sized living room and the small kitchen beside it. I walked toward the kitchen to see the appliances—the sink leaked with rust that grew on the frame, leaving an impossible stain I wouldn’t be able to get out. The bathroom only had a stand-up shower, making it impossible for me to use. If I moved wrong, objects would hit me from all directions. The bedroom was empty, with no closet. It might have been big enough for a king-sized bed, but it would be impossible to move around if I had a dresser. I examined it one more time and gathered my thoughts.

I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t care what Ruth said if we lived together for another year, we would end up killing each other. Living together, I’ve heard stories of best friends and things never being the same. I don’t want to jeopardize my friendship. She and Mike were all I had.

I’ll take it.

Great! We’ll need to run a background check, and once that’s complete, you’ll receive an email from me. The deposit will be $545, and the application fee is $25.

Thank you. I’ll apply tonight and look forward to hearing from you.

I hopped into my 2009 Honda Civic and headed to work at Oceanside Diner, where I’d been working for three years. Despite the management being challenging, I enjoyed my job, and the regular customers made it all worthwhile.

As I walked into the diner, I couldn’t help but feel excited about my upcoming move, if I got approved that is. I hated being a burden on my friends, even though Ruth and Mike welcomed me with open arms and treated me like family. I headed straight to the kitchen where things were quiet as usual. I was thankful to have a shift at the club later because I needed the extra cash, especially with my move coming up in a week.

Karmen, we might close early. Business has been awful. Do you mind telling your family to come to get some lunch, for God’s sake? Nadeem snapped. Yeah, Nadeem, I’ll text my heartless parents. My poor boss is going bankrupt and needs more customers. He was drying off dishes, his pot belly hanging over the sink.

Mhm, will do.

And right on cue, my phone buzzed.

Mom: Hey Karmen, your dad and I are having dinner downtown and would love it if you could join us, not stoned, please. Love, Mom.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. How goddamn ironic. Feeling more frustrated, I shoved my phone into my apron and stared at the clock. I needed to find another job. I doubted I’d even break even in two separate shifts. The bell chimed as the doors swung open. A friendly face, his eyes looked kind and there were no wrinkles. Only old people came in, but this guy’s young. Maybe twenty-five, tops.

Sit wherever you like. Is it just you?

Yes, ma’am. He strolled in like a panther, my stare unable to detach from him.

I grabbed my pen tucked my straight brown hair behind my ears and approached him. Hello, my name is Karmen. I will be taking care of you this afternoon. Would you like a cup of freshly brewed coffee? Or we have Coke products as well, I said as if I were an automated voicemail working on autopilot. I caught his gaze. His eyes were a sage green, and he looked freshly groomed. I could smell the aftershave that lingered on his face. His Rolex flashed me as it reflected the sunlight in the window, and he was wearing a flannel with a white T-shirt and baggy jeans. One thing was for sure, I had seen this man, and I could not put my finger on where exactly.

I will have some coffee, please—and I already know what I want. I will take the ham and cheese melt. His voice was upbeat and cheerful, but underneath was like a low grumble. I nodded, and he snagged my arm before I could walk away.

Do you have any tattoos by chance? He tightened his grip and tilted his head.

My body became rigid. A stranger just grabbed my wrist. I felt my heartbeat bouncing onto the pads of his fingers. I couldn’t tell if it was