More Than Words

By Elle Henry

This novel is my most precious work. It took fourteen months to complete from conception to final manuscript. This novel started out as a 1,700 word fiction story for a creative writing class. My teacher encouraged me to continue to develop Ansley's character. I thought of myself as a young girl wanting love at 15-16 yrs old and Ansley's character developed. It was my objective to present Ansley and Simon in a relatable way. If you can fall in love and appreciate these two people trying to experience love and the possibility of happiness in lieu of tragedy; then I've achieved my task with part one of this novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elle Henry
• Release date: Nov 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9780692449899

Elle Henry

Elle Henry is a self-published author and Editor, her works include two Poetry and Story Collections: Pieces of Me and Epiphany, debut novel More Than Words and an Anthology Nightmarish Eve with The Writer’s Literary group. Her education includes BA in English and Creative Writing and a Master’s in English Literature. She is an Editor and writing consultant for self-publishing writers through her company Tres Chic Edits; crediting some of her favorite authors as the Bronte sisters, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Daphne Du Maurier, Sylvia Plath and Stephen King. In her spare time, she enjoys traveling and visiting museums. Elle lives with her family in Central Florida.

Book preview

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Main Body

1

Normally, I didn’t make a big deal about love and relationships. I mean who really cared at the age of fifteen anyway? Life to me was more about taking it one day at a time. Plus, I was nerdy. Guys never gave me the time of day and it never really bothered me to care. You could say looks wise I was cute. My height was short, with big wavy sandy brown hair that I often wore straight and hazel eyes. My only solidarity in life was my family, friends and reading. Oh, yeah and painting. I really, really liked painting; it took my mind off life and all of its crappiness. My therapist thought of it as a creative outlet.

Why am I in therapy at fifteen? Yeah, that part…

See what happened was…I suffered from a panic disorder with a social phobia and anxiety since the age of seven; however it’s being controlled with group therapy, medication and continuous weekly activities that my parents kept me occupied in. The reasoning behind my anxiety is another story for later. People just make me feel uncomfortable; I’m not trusting in social situations. I have a fear of being snatched—again later on that subject.

One minute I’m a happy, cheerful teenager; while the next, I’m balled up crying on the floor begging for my parents. Security is my safety net. I’m weary of new people, they make me nervous. Hence why guys are not attracted to me. I’m socially awkward and geeky. My parents enrolled me in homeschool in seventh grade due to my inability to cope with my surrounds or foster meaningful relationship with others that was the shrink talking. Whatever, I conceded and it got me out of school.

I have one friend that I trust with my life, her name is Maxwell Browning aka Maxi, and we’re pretty much the same person. I’m the brain of the friendship and she’s definitely the beauty. Except Maxwell is popular pretty and outgoing; while I’m just awkward pretty. Boys cling to her and I’m the smart girl who will help with the homework. I just tag along with her and my sister Claire happy to be included. I’m not a joiner, more of a watcher. Life has dealt me a bad hand and I’m trying my hardest to breathe and not succumb to this madness we call life. I’m fifteen, but I feel like I’ve lived five lives with my anxiety. People know my story and they pity me, only I want to be the stand out not for my anxiety issues, but for being special as a person. This summer I would like to find out who I am, the real me.

By the way, I’m Ansley Stevenson.

I live in suburban Toms River, New Jersey with my two middle class parents Hank and Jillian. My Dad is a dentist and my Mom is an accountant; my two older sisters Lindsay and Claire and Taffy the Pomeranian. Claire is two years older at seventeen a senior next school year and Lindsay is nineteen in her second year of college. The Stevenson girls, daughters of Dr. Hank the tooth king!

My town is average just fifteen minutes outside of Seaside Heights, NJ. I’m so Jersey everyone in my suburb knew one another in my neighborhood. I should be celebrating the fact that I made it through my freshman year. It was summer and I was bored as usual. Drawing wasn’t helping; I was putting off the big task Dr. Greene gave me. This woman wants me to journal my thoughts. CRAZY! I Swear sometimes I could just fire her as my psychiatrist. Staying cramped up in this house was no fun and I was tired of the Shore already. I asked mom if I could walk down to Maxwell’s house.

I could give you a lift Sweets? She said, in gentle tone.

 Jillian Stevenson the worrywart—at least that’s what my sisters and I called her. I was the last of the trio to enter high school. I think Mom was going through empty nest syndrome early.

No, Mom. I can walk and don’t call me that! I smiled, as she brushed my curls away from my face. She’s been calling me sweets, since I was born. Everyone said it was because I was red-hot and sweet as candy partially due to the incessant red flush of my cheeks and truly embarrassing way she acknowledges it every time in public. I’m the baby, so it was with good intentions for her to coddle me.

Dr. Greene called, no therapy tomorrow. She wanted me to remind you to journal your thoughts, so you could talk about them in the next session. She said barely taking a breath.

         Do I really have to do the therapy Mom? I begged.

Are you sleeping at night? She titled her glasses down and stared at me. Dang it, I hated when she stared at me like that. I knew where this conversation was going and where it was going to end. Also, I wasn’t sleeping at all during the night; however I didn’t feel the need to agree and give her more ammunition.

Not much, but I don’t like the therapy and Dr. Green is a bitch Mom.

Language missy! Dr. Green has helped you reach many milestones and I think the medicine has improved your outlook on life tremendously Madame. She scolded.

Come on Mom, I hate therapy Plus, I did fine in school and I don’t need the Xanax as much anymore…See progress. No more Dr. G! I was serious about that.

 Sorry, She’s the reason you are on the right track honey. She was right. I was back in school. I was able to attend my freshmen year of high school this past year. A major break through for me. Junior high school was a big anxiety issue for me. I couldn’t attend school seventh and eighth grade. I would hide out in the bathroom; the teachers would find me in the restroom curled up in a ball sweaty and shaking for my parents.

It was then my Mom decided to work from home and home school me. I went into therapy full time with group therapy with other children like me with social phobias. My incident happened when I was ten. The Doctors told my parents to make sure my surrounds were happy. It was only later the after shock came later. I suppressed the memories of what happened until I was until I was twelve. Grief counselors told my parents that I would be fine or it would hit me like a ton of bricks. Well let’s just say it hit me like a ton of bricks. That’s when the panic attacks started to take over my life. I was in the seventh grade. Children teased me calling me a weirdo, saying mean things like ‘Where’s your straight jacket?’ or "Did you take your happy pill today Ansley?’ Emotionally ill-equipped to deal with the bullying. I left school permanently that year. Those junior high memories still bother me.

         And look at all the friends you’ve made in the program. Jillian smiled. My mom always had a positive outlook on life. I guess that happy gene skipped me.

I think not! I give her a look of horror. We are kids with issues, a bunch of teenage freaks. Yet, I fit right in with them. Children who have been kidnapped, molested, or had eating disorders you name it. Some just have a fear of society with zero explanation. Therapy is considered a ‘No Judgment’ zone a safe haven. So, we are one. Zen or some shit…I hated it, but it did help.

I usually don’t have a potty mouth. Boredom tends to bring out the worst in me. Bratty and snarky are my two traits when I’m bored.

Okay—Mom, I will continue your shiny, happy therapy if you let me walk to Maxi’s? I begged. Pretty please… I said batting my eyes with my best Sweet’s face.

 Okay, then stay on the sidewalk and page me as soon as you get there. She demands walking out of our spacious family room.

         Thanks Mom, I love you! I dashed over to plant a smooch on her cheek.

Page me, please. I heard her yell from behind me, but I was gone in the hot summer breeze of June.

She had pause for concern when it came to my safety and even though I was responsible now. My family has never forgotten the day I was taken. Since then my parents have been extra cautious about our safety. Call when or page when you get to your destination and when you’re about to leave.

All thanks to Tanya.

Pinky promise. I smiled back grabbing my little messenger purse, checking again for the blue pager, running for the door towards Maxi’s house.

            Aunt Tanya was my dad’s middle sister; she was a free spirited hippie chick who lived life one hour at a time. She got caught up in drugs during the 1960’s after college and it resulted in my grandparents cutting her off. An addict to the extreme; she would risk anything to get high. My Dad would always save her, understandably she was his sister and he loved her. He always felt responsible for her as a big brother. That was until she stole narcotics from the Dentist office, later using the drugs to get high right. I wasn’t born yet. My grandma used to say ‘God was testing her, but she failed.’ I had never met her before the incident. Everyone said I looked exactly like her with my sandy brown colored hair and hazel eyes.

Tanya’s drug problems caused her to resorted to unsavory things. She had a baby she lost custody to its father. A baby girl I’m told. Every promise she made to get sober was a bad attempt to get clean. Lindsay said when Great Nana Evelyn died, she stole all of her jewelry and got high on heroin. Daddy found her in the cellar doped out of her mind. Of course he got her help. Tanya needed to grow up. She couldn’t be trusted with responsibility. The weird part was she was great with Lindsay and Claire. Good or not she was putting their livelihood in jeopardy after stealing the drugs from Dad’s dental practice. He could’ve gone to jail and my parents would have lost everything. Tanya was put on a psych hold and inpatient drug treatment never forgiving Hank for turning her in.

She kidnapped me as punishment. Losing me would hurt them the most. Tanya was clearly aware of this notion. An easy target. I didn’t know Tanya like Lindsay and Claire did and I wouldn’t recognize her.

Tanya was released from the court ordered drug treatment facility in 1988; where she met the cocky Steve Cooper a crack head who had no family and nothing to lose in her stupid extortion plan. It took me years in therapy to understand why she would take me instead of one of my other two sisters. Selfish of me and I would never say that aloud. I wouldn’t wish what I went through on anyone, but the only thing that tied me to Tanya was my Dad and the fact that I looked the most like her.

And that’s what did it.

I had replaced her as his favorite person warped as it sounded. With me being his last daughter and he having more responsible as a father, there was no time for him to bail her out anymore. She was no longer his best friend and Hank Stevenson always being the responsible one betrayed her when he turned her in to the police after she stole the medication from his practice.

I don’t’ remember attending school that day; however I do recount the weather. It was a really nice spring day. Right before Easter, I know this because we had just went shopping for our dresses for church that Sunday. I was super excited about the egg hunt and painting eggs with Grandma and Papaw. Claire and I rode the bus home after school. Lindsay would pick us up from the bus. Claire hated waiting at the bus stop with a follower kid sister.

As I continued to walk down the street, I flashed back to my shoes. I will never forget the white leather Keds. My Mom always dressed us in white leather Keds sneakers as little girls. I was so happy, because Daddy had just taught me how to tie mine and I was finally a Big Girl and not a loser as my big sisters had called me. They called me a loser because I caught on to those types of things late. I was a late bloomer in life; almost eight when I learned how to finally tie my shoes. Yes, very embarrassing. The late in learning things and eager to catch up with my sisters mainly because I was the baby and my parents liked to coddle me.

I loved to follow my sisters.

That day like every other day, Lindsay who was in middle school had to meet Claire and me at the bus and walk us straight home. Life in the 80’s was relaxed, kids still played in the street until the lights came on and we walked home without adult supervision. No one thought about abduction in our safe neighborhood. Everyone knew everyone. The biggest news of that time was baby Jessica McClure being rescued from that well. There was no need for worry in the lives of the Stevenson family. Claire and I got off the bus and Lindsay was late as usual. Probably goofing around with her friends. Claire went ahead with her friends chatting about Jordan from the group New Kids on the Block. While I trailed behind noticing my shoelaces were untied again.

Claire, my shoe! I stopped to fix them, so I didn’t trip again.

        Come on baby! Claire yelled as I bent on one knee to tie the shoelace.

         But Claire continued to walk with her friends running her trash box about that stupid boy band. I thought Joey was cuter anyway. At first I didn’t notice the man. I was busy chanting "Over, under, around the loop..."

I couldn’t remember the rest, when the tall man walked up to me.

        Looks like you need help with that Ansley? I should have been frightened right then, because he knew my name. But I wasn’t. I smiled. He wasn’t out of place in the neighborhood. He was casually dressed in denim jeans, a black t-shirt and a blue New York Yankees baseball cap with the NY embossed in the front black and white Nike sneakers. Even though he looked decent for the area he smelled bad. I mean really bad. I remember the smell of musk and cigarettes. My grandpa smoked cigars, so I knew what smoke smelled like.

I was walking into impending trouble without a clue.

I got it. I said, but I couldn’t get the second loop around the tree. Where was Claire? I looked up briefly she was out of sight.

You can help, if you want. I said feeling suddenly defeated wondering where was my sisters as the tall man with the dank smell kneeled to help me. There was a calming smile on his face that made me feel trusting of him.

        Where’s Claire? Panic started to kick in and Lindsay wasn’t there to meet us.

Lindsay was late again and Mommy’s gonna be mad at her. I wiped my nose.

        Don’t you worry pretty girl. I’ll take you to your sisters and your Mommy won’t be mad. He smiled, as he double knotted the white shoelace.

As he stood he reached for my hand. I looked around once again for Claire, but I didn’t see her and this man did know my name.

We can go get ice cream and I will take you to Claire. He said, then I took his hand and we walked to the silver truck. I should have known better and not been so trusting. I was eight years old and I liked ice cream, dolls and cartoons.

What I did not know was that my sisters were scared frantic looking for me…But I was walking in the arms of danger.

What do you like to do Ansley? The man asked.

I don’t know, I like to play with my Barbie’s and My Little Pony, I said continuing, Lindsay said that Barbie’s are stupid and I’m stupid. I looked down feeling very sad and wanting my Mommy. He put me in the passenger side of the car, buckled me and shut the door. His closeness made me uncomfortable, but I wanted the ice cream so I said nothing. Looking around the truck, it was dirty with food containers on the dashboard and clothes on the floor. He got in the car and I noticed a black backpack on the middle