The Fool: The Carter Series

  The Fool

  Taylor K Scott

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2023 Taylor K. Scott

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the author.

  Warning: The following work of fiction describes content of a sexual nature. It also discusses sensitive themes including violence and mental health issues. See Author’s Note for more information.

  DEDICATION

  To my fellow cygnet inkers, a special group of authors, readers and reviewers, set up by the amazing TL Swan, whose books got me hooked on this wonderful journey.

  Musical Influences

  No Air – Jordin Sparks

  Kissing You – Des’ree

  Iris – Goo Goo Dolls

  Say Something – A Great Big World and Christina Aquilera

  I Wanna Dance With Somebody – Marian Hill

  Numb – Linkin Park

  Dangerous Woman – Ariana Grande

  Breathin – Ariana Grande

  Stronger – Sugababes

  I Fell in Love with the Devil – Avril Lavigne (The Devil-Book 3)

  Into Your Arms – Witt Lowry

  Apologize – Timbaland (feat. One Republic)

  Here With Me - Dido

  Keeping Your Head Up - Birdy

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to the community of writers and readers out there who have answered questions, read my work, given me advice, and shared my work. Thank you to all of you!

  To my beta readers, Liz Rogers, Freya Martin, Charlotte Mieu, Phoebe Black, and Mama Sue, who all took the time to read this book during the early stages. Just to have someone read my work and offer their opinion is always so empowering for me. I sincerely appreciate you offering me your time, support, and advice.

  I must also thank my poor, suffering husband for supporting me through my obsession with writing. Not only has he had to live with my reading habit, which is becoming more and more consuming, but also has the added bonus of losing me to my own works of fiction. Know that I love you dearly, as well as our two beautiful girls, and appreciate all the encouragement you have given me.

  Finally, but most importantly, thanks to everyone who has taken a chance on my novel. I hope it hasn’t disappointed, and that you might take a chance to read some of my upcoming releases. Thank you so much again.

  Author’s Note

  (Trigger Warnings)

  I write fictional books that encompass more than a central romance plot. Experience with mental health, living with PTSD, and working with people from different backgrounds have all helped me to shape my characters and their storylines. A lot of what I’ve included in my books is based on real people and real situations, or at least, a version of them. This includes my own experiences. I write stories that are sometimes hard to read; I don’t shy away from trauma. I also don’t write flawless characters because real people are never without fault. My characters might act irrationally or choose an option that an objective person might question, but they do, based on what I’ve seen and lived, behave realistically.

  This series contains scenes that may be hard to read and may trigger some people. They include sexual, physical, and emotional abuse. This series has a major theme of mental health running through it, including attempted suicide, depression, abuse, bullying, anxiety, and PTSD. There are also references to early miscarriage.

  “The fool doth think he is wise,

  But the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

  -William Shakespeare

  Prologue

  Let us begin with a party.

  An innocent night of care-free fun amongst teenagers.

  Nate Carter, the popular boy with a heart, was throwing one of his infamous bashes that aimed to let the kids of Westlake Prep let down their hair and give into their urges within the safe confines of the Carter household. Everyone knew who the Carters were, the girls in particular. There were few who hadn’t had a crush on at least one of them. The fact that they were known for their charming and respectful personalities as well as their mother’s Italian good looks, caused many a girl to daydream about being their girlfriend. Whereas the boys all wanted to be on first-name terms with them. Nate never discriminated against anyone who wanted to come, so long as they respected both his house and his rules.

  However, with the number of people who were sure to attend, it was impossible for him to know each and everyone there. The odd guy with a pocketful of LSD; maybe a girl with itchy fingers for Mrs Carter’s jewelry; a man looking to take advantage of a naïve teenage girl, or perhaps a girl who had just been betrayed in the worst possible way and was looking for somewhere to escape from the pain. It would have been so easy for them to slip in undetected. Everyone knew Nate Carter; Nate Carter didn’t know everyone.

  For one of those people, this night could have potentially been her last. Perhaps if she had met someone like the boy himself, he might have been able to change despair into hope. But she didn’t meet him on this night, she met someone who sought to take advantage of her vulnerability. Somebody who pushed her over the edge.

  She only just managed to survive that night and what was to follow, but she didn’t begin living again for a long time. She didn’t begin to believe in a ‘happy ever after’ or forgiveness until she finally met the youngest Carter brother.

  And on that note, I shall begin with my story. The story of how I fell for The Fool, otherwise known as Nathaniel Carter.

  Chapter 1

  Past

  Bea, 18

  Have you ever asked yourself, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?

  What would your answer be?

  Ran away from home?

  Slept with another woman’s husband?

  Caused someone to lose their life?

  Called your brother in the middle of the night after taking a potent concoction of vodka and painkillers? And you did it right; you took those pills over time, hoping that when someone finally found you, you would have already slipped away.

  I managed to tick off each of these transgressions before I’d even turned nineteen. My run of bad decisions began early in life, and I take responsibility for all of them. I could list off my excuses, and blame others for what I did, but ultimately, it was me who took my brother’s car without permission. It was my body that gave itself to a man who wasn’t free to take it. It was my actions that caused another to die, regardless of what they said. It was my finger that shakily managed to dial Ben’s number when I thought I was on my way out of this world. It was me; all me.

  My admission has got you thinking now, got you questioning what the hell happened to turn this girl into a monster. It all began when my high school began an innocent online platform so students could talk to each other. A safe place, a private place, an unpoliced place. While they thought it would be a secure cyberspace for us to communicate about school projects, missed notes, or perhaps college choices, it turned into a place where you could let loose your ugly without anyone knowing who you really are. The wholesome jock and the homecoming queen who smile and hold the door open for everyone, the head of the school council, even the kid who donates his time to charity, they could all become villainous.

  If you ever had the chance to read some of the comments that appeared online, you might believe the seven deadly sins had come up from the pits of hell to wreak havoc.

  Envy frequently appeared in the form of gossiping about the girl who got the boy; did you hear? She opened her legs on the first date because she’s a slut with enough STDs to land you in the hospital if you so much as look at her.

  Greed came in the form of the popular kids who wanted even more people to look up to them. The more likes and followers you had, the more you could tell yourself you were better than all the rest.

  Vanity was for all those kids who masked what they really looked like with too many filters to count, people like my sister.

  Lust is something we could all be accused of, the wanting someone from behind closed doors, even those who we already thought we had. I’ll openly admit, I lusted after my boyfriend, even after he hurt me in the worst possible way.

  Sloth was for those kids who spent hours in front of this platform when they should have been working, spending time with their families, being at school, or even getting fresh air. It became an obsession for most, a time waster, something to help you avoid having to face real life.

  Wrath frequently gave into itself on this platform, for where else could you vent your kind of hate without comeback, or revealing your true identity?

  Pride came to all of us. No one wanted to admit it was getting just a little too much on there; to ruin it for everybody else.

  And finally, gluttony. This was on all those people like me, the ones who kept on returning. You knew it was bad for you, and yet, you kept on going back for more – a glutton for punishment.

  It didn’t destroy me straight away. Like any vice, it crept up on me, prayed on my weaknesses, my fears, as well as my bad days. Just when my senior year was coming to an end, and I naively thought I had survived it all, the b
ad days came at me like a series of tidal waves. I fought them at first, dove straight beneath the break, but pretty soon, they came at me without any pause for breath. I could no longer duck below the torrent of crushing water.

  It was easy to spot the passive-aggressive messages that turned up on Western High’s webchat, the sly digs from people who you thought were your friends. However, I would usually let it slide off my back. I was the tomboy who had managed to bag one of the pretty boys; I was positively an urban legend. But this is exactly how Dean and I got together. I was one of the boys until my body morphed into something that could no longer hide the fact that I was a girl. A flirtation ensued before he finally leaned in and kissed me. It was so out of the blue, it was like a fairy tale. I kissed him right back and that was how we became Western High’s odd couple. I never paid it much attention, not even when I was told outright that I was extremely lucky to have him.

  But then, shortly after me, my sister also morphed into something that made her look more woman than child. Whereas I had kept being who I was, she embraced the world of social media, the vanity, the make-up, and handbags. She seemed happy, even if I didn’t understand how she had come to change so much in such a short period of time. I didn’t question it, but that didn’t mean I didn’t worry about her.

  _____

  Bea, 18

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I have to try hard to stop myself from laughing at the scene playing out before me because from where I’m standing, it looks pretty ridiculous. Full on pout with makeup troweled on to perfection, my baby sister, Emma, is extending her favorite life support, her mobile, at arm’s length. Several clicks later, she studies her art for several intense moments before finally responding to the actual human being in the room.

  “I’m taking a selfie for my profile page,” she says as though I’m pathetically stupid for not having come to that conclusion myself. Being only a year younger than me, she pities the fact that I don’t choose to make myself up in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, only to stare at my phone with a pose that any Kardashian would be proud of.

  “You should try it sometime. You might get yourself more friends if you did.”

  “Oh, because befriending people who take an interest in me based on how many likes I get on social media is clearly the way forward. Trust me, I know what people say about me and I’d rather not see it in black and white.”

  I scoff over her ridiculous outlook on life, shake my head with an eye roll, and wander off to answer the door.

  Don’t ask me why my boyfriend of two years insists on knocking when he could just walk in. Maybe he’s being polite, maybe he’s being respectful, or maybe it’s because he always looks like he’s about to piss his pants every time he sees my big brother, Ben. Either way, he’s here that often, I’ve told him he should just come in.

  Dean’s shaggy blond hair greets me as he continues staring down at his phone when I open the front door. He manages to kiss me on the cheek without even taking his eyes away from the screen.

  “Hi?” I exclaim, seeking acknowledgment from the guy who once told me he could stare at me all day. Granted, it was leading up to a rather intimate moment, but still, it kind of bums me out that he’s so easily distracted. “I could have been Emma for all you know,” I huff.

  Taking his sweet time to look up at me, he smirks cheekily and with an air of confidence any life coach would be proud of, before sauntering over to kiss me properly.

  “Nah, I saw your shoes,” he says as Emma sashays into the kitchen, face plastered in makeup and wearing a low-cut top that shows off her very sizeable bust. “She wouldn’t be caught dead in trainers, would you, Em? Nice pic, by the way, you already have at least a dozen likes.”

  She gasps over the very idea of being seen in my raggedy old trainers, then proceeds to pour herself a glass of OJ.

  “I don’t do scruffy shoes, that’s Bea’s signature style.”

  Feigning insult, I mouth the word ‘bitch’ to her before sinking back against Dean’s lean frame with a casual grin. He wraps his arms around my waist before resting his chin on top of my head because I’m that small.

  “Maybe she has a point, babe,” he says to me, “you could sex it up a bit. The guys are always telling me what a tomboy you are. I’m sure Emma would help you out.”

  “Damn straight!” Emma’s eyes bulge with renewed enthusiasm. “Please let me make you over, pretty please!”

  She dramatically sinks to the floor, hands poised in a begging position, making both Dean and I laugh, just as Mom walks in with two heavy bags of shopping.

  “Gee, thanks, you guys, I think I’m actually offended,” I say half-heartedly as I rush over to relieve Mom of the bags, which have left red indents inside of her small fingers. She blows onto her mangled hands before offering a smile in thanks. Neither Dean nor Emma have noticed the exchange, being that they are currently engaged in a non-verbal affair with their phones.

  “Mom, do you think I need a makeover?”

  “What? No, you are beautiful; don’t mess with perfection!” she says with her mom goggles on, but I love her for it. A pang of hurt hits my chest without warning. Why doesn’t Dean see me in this rose-tinted light? I thought he loved me, but if he did, surely, he’d want me to be who I am, not an Emma wannabe.

  “Yesss! One hundred likes in only five minutes. That’s how it’s done, bitches!”

  She begins jumping up and down like an idiot. She manages to gain Dean’s attention with her jiggling chest, hypnotizing his primitive urges with their rhythmic movements.

  “What?” Mom gasps when she finally looks up from sorting items around in the fridge. “Oh, where are you going, Emma? Out on a date?”

  “No, why?”

  Emma looks positively confused, not realizing it’s a perfectly valid question given the fact she looks ready to hit the local nightlife at three in the afternoon. Mom simply gestures to her outfit with a quirk of her brow.

  “Oh, no,” she says as she flaps her hand in front of her perfectly coiffed head, laughing at Mom condescendingly because she’s clueless to social media. “This is just for my profile pic.”

  Mom makes an ‘oh’ shape with her mouth but still looks just as oblivious. I shake my head and smile, silently telling her it’s not something to worry about, just another first-world issue.

  “Right, then,” Emma finally says to me before grabbing a hold of my hand, “time to get this party started. Dean, come back in a couple of hours, and I’ll have her ready for you.”

  She blows him a kiss as he walks over to peck me on the cheek.

  “Can’t wait,” he says with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

  This was the beginning of the end; the moment I began to realize that being just me was never going to be enough.

  _____

  Bea

  “Is this really necessary?” I huff at the mirror as Emma vigorously straightens my hair; I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s slowly killing off my hair follicles.