Serena Vox
ONE love, blood, life
I wana say thanks to all my readers who've been giving me lovely comments on my previous chapters and a big thank you, as usual, to dianepm for being my wonderful beta. 
I recently created a journal to put this story (as well as anything else I may write) in, if anyone would like that, email me at dirnts_angel@hotmail.com and I will get that to you.
At any rate! On with the story!
Disclaimer: I don't know or own U2, don't make money off this and it never happened.
Warnings: Violence and language.
---
Weeks had gone by and life remained fairly uneventful. Grace continued to see Bono at his request to take her here or there. Whether it be to a restaurant or on a simple walk, he wanted to spend time with her. She didn’t protest this, of course. One would have to be insane to. They hadn’t considered themselves anymore than friends, regardless of what any random person on the street who would see them together said. Everyone stayed out of her way for the most part, even her own father. The mention of her mother a few weeks ago had so far held up to being nothing more than a rumor. Perhaps it was some sick joke. At least, that was what she had hoped for.
It was a day off work for the young woman and she made plans the night before via her cell phone to spend an afternoon with Bono and his band mates at his place. Apparently, they had been making quite the progress on their new album in the last few weeks and the eager lead man wanted her to get first listen of a couple songs. She dressed herself in some nice but plain clothing, donning the sunglasses and jacket he had left with her from the first day they met and made her way down the stairs.
Her father was sitting in his chair, reading the paper as usual. He didn’t bat an eye to her as she walked across the living room floor. His news paper rustled as he turned the page, his eyes lifting from it to look at the back of the jacket he’d grown accustomed to her wearing about. He cleared his throat with an ‘ahem’ and put the paper down into his lap.
“What?” She turned around.
“I talked to the guy who sells these papers you know...”
“Okay...”
What the...?
“Word has it you’re seeing that Bono character. What’s that about?” He asked, pulling his glasses off his face.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it seeing. We’re just friends,” She explained, lifting her sunglasses off her face and resting them on her head.
“Just friends, eh? That why you’re going to lunches with him and holding his hand on the street?”
Fuck
“Friends do that, no big deal.”
“I call having the family name being related to a whore a big deal,” He spat.
“Excuse me?!”
“Stay away from him. I mean it.”
“I am a grown woman. I will see who I want to see,” Grace retorted, standing her ground. She remained still as he got up from his seat, slowly standing up. His knees cracked and popped a little as his legs straightened out. With a bit of a groan, he stepped towards her, towering over her.
He glared down at her, seeming almost shocked at the fact that she was still unnerved. “You will not see Bono anymore, is that clear?”
Before she could open her mouth again, the back of his hand swiped her face, his knuckles grinding directly into her cheek bone along the way. She yelped, putting her hand on her face as the skin stung and the bone throbbed. She sucked in a deep breath, her heart began racing. Adrenaline pumped through her and she nearly raised her own hand up to him but she stopped herself, almost disgusted that she had. I can’t sink to that level.
“I’m still going,” She finally said, straightening back out. Her hand slid down her face and dropped to her side.
Disgruntled now, he slung his hand at her again, slapping her even harder. The prized sunglasses flew off her head and fell to the carpeted floor and some of her hair came loose from it’s ponytail. “Get out of my sight,” He hissed, turning back around and picking up his newspaper.
“You’re a freakin' ass.” The insult flew out of her mouth long before she could catch it. She regretted it instantly. He faced her once more, raising both hands up and pushed them against her, the force causing her to stumble back against the wall, the back of her head hitting it.
He didn’t say anything more and neither did she. Instead, she picked the sunglasses up off the floor and fled the house immediately. She would worry about her mussed hair and whatever marks showed up later on. She slipped the sunglasses back on and took off running as fast as she could to the hilltop.
Pedestrians all moved aside for her frantic scrambling down the sidewalk like a bat out of hell. She ran and ran until her knees began to get sore. Even still, she continued, landing upon the top of the hill where she flopped down and sprawled out into the cool grass. The afternoon air was very mild, a slight crisp in it’s breeze. It was more refreshing than anything. She lay out, arms and legs apart, heaving for air. She ignored the peaceful chirping, the bustling city, everything.
Her phone had rang a few times, a few beeps of missed texts and messages sounded. But she ignored them both. She simply didn’t have the will to pull her phone out of her pocket for anyone. She rolled over onto her side, placing her hand flat against the green grass beneath her and sighed. Why? Why the hell is he like that? Her thoughts were everywhere now. Wandering from what had just happened, to its humble beginnings in early childhood. She closed her eyes, not even caring if she’d fallen asleep on the quiet hill by now.
After what had felt like days, but turned out to have only been a few hours, a familiar voice cried out to her, “Grace! There you are! You didn’t answer your phone...”
“Huh?” She sat up, turning around with confusion written across her face. There he was, Bono, knelt down next to her. His expression changed to one of shock when he saw the mark on her face.
“Oh fuck, Grace, what happened to you?”
What happened? Oh! It bruised!
“What?”
He pulled her close, rocking her in his arms. She squirmed, trying to push him away. Her breathing picked up and her heart raced. Before he knew what had happened, she was slapping at his chest, using her arms to wedge them apart. She broke out of his arms and scrambled to her feet, but her balance gave on her and she tumbled over, landing right on her back and slid halfway down the other side of the hill.
Bono panicked, he was confused and freaked out at the same time. He jumped up, helping her to her feet at the risk of her freaking out all over him again. “Grace, please tell me what happened to you.”
“Bono I—” She swallowed hard, her eyes welling up with tears.
He put his arms around here again, pulling her against him. His hand lovingly rubbed her back and he pressed his lips against the top of her head, trying his best to sooth her as she sobbed against his chest. She gave in, throwing her arms around him. She clung to him like life itself depended on it and buried her face into his shoulder.
“Who did this?” He asked again, clearly wanting an answer.
“Wh...I...it...i-it was...dad...” She sputtered, fresh teardrops soaking into the dark shirt.
“Come on, my car’s just by the railroad. I’m going to take you back to my place.”
She watched as he pulled back from her and nodded his head in the direction of the cross road where the road met the railroad tracks. He began to walk ahead at first but her hand flew out and grasped his suddenly, holding it tightly. He looked back, seeing her give him that shy, timid glance of hers and broke the hold just enough to slide his arm around her. He walked her to the car and eased her into the passenger seat, then made his way around to the driver’s seat, climbing in and putting his seat belt on.
“I’m sorry,” She apologized as he started the engine.
He turned to face her. “Listen, you don’t need to apologize. This is not by any means your fault. I’m just glad that you’re not seriously hurt.”
They got quiet and remained that way the entire trip to the apartment building. He got out of the car, locking the driver’s side and made his way back to her side, opening the door. She stepped out and he pulled her close to him as he locked that door too and closed it. He led her into the building, waving by the same woman he always had on their way up. They walked to the door and he opened it, leading her inside and closing the door.
“Just sit down right here,” He instructed, pointing towards the couch. “Do you need anything? A bottle of water, maybe? Something to eat?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll live.”
Ignoring her response, Bono went into the kitchen and returned with an unopened bottle of water, handing it to her. “Here, drink it.”
Grace took the bottle from him and twisted the cap off, taking a gulp of it as he sat down on the couch next to her. His phone rang, startling him and he fished it out of his pocket, standing back up to take it to the other room. She sighed, staring down at the coffee table not even a foot away from her as he attended to whatever call he had just gotten. He could be heard talking indistinctly and then he hung up, coming back out into the living area.
“If I’m being a bother...”
“Oh, no honey, you’re not a bother, please...” The singer replied, shuffling back to the couch and sitting back down with her.
She leaned into his arms as he sunk back into the couch, putting his arm around her. The two of them remained silent, an awkward air lingering between the two for a long moment. He shifted noticeably and she conformed to his movement, laying her head down on his shoulder. She felt safe there, like no one could hurt her and that’s what she liked. Unfortunately, it was also something that was too easy for her to get used to.
He spoke back up, picking up from their conversation on the hilltop, “You said your dad did this? What exactly happened?”
“I just...came downstairs and got ready to leave...he told me...told me he heard that we were ‘together’,” She explained with air quotes, continuing, “and that I shouldn’t see you anymore. I don’t know what I did wrong...”
His eyes widened, but she never saw it. A barely audible sigh rattled out of his chest and he stroked her arm with his hand, trying his best to comfort her. “You didn’t do anything wrong...” He managed, holding back another ragged exhale.
“Why does he think I’m a whore then?”
“Because that’s just how he is.”
Just how he is...?
“What do you mean?”
Shite, he thought to himself. “Just that...controlling fathers like him usually think that of their daughters,” He said, covering for himself.
“But I’m not a whore!” She protested, wailing.
“Oh love, just because he said it doesn’t make it so,” Bono put his other arm around her and squeezed her lightly. “However, I’d like you to get some rest. Can you do that for me?”
“I suppose...where would I...” She agreed, trailing off as her eyes wandered to the hallway.
“I’ve a few bedrooms,” He replied, helping her up off the couch and he led her down the hallway. She walked with him hesitantly as he led her to the middle bedroom, opening the door for her. He motioned to the rather large bed over by the window and she walked ahead of him, sitting down on the edge of the soft mattress.
“Bono?”
“Yes, love?”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t need to thank me. Get some rest. I’ll still be here when you wake up,” He said, making his way over to her. He gave her one more hug and turned back for the door.
“Bono?”
“Yes?”
“Here’s your sunglasses,” She offered, holding them up towards him.
“Keep them.”
Grace kicked her shoes off and tossed the jacket over onto the chair. She pulled the covers back and crawled under them, getting comfortable as he exited the room, closing the door behind him. He put his back up against the door and sighed hard. He wasn’t sure what to make of how the day had unfolded.
***
Several hours later, Edge and Adam dropped by the apartment and Bono let them in. They gathered around the living area, talking amongst each other. The singer had told the two what took place today and they both looked to each other for reassurance, the guitarist giving one of those ‘I told you so’ looks to the lead man. Unnerved, he ignored it and went about his business.
“She said her dad hit her?”
“That’s what I’ve gathered. I wouldn’t doubt it either...” Bono said.
Adam suddenly chimed into the conversation, “what exactly do you expect us to do?”
“I don’t know about you lot, but I’m looking after her.”
A silence lingered in the air. Neither of the band mates said anything more; rather they just gave each other mirrored confusion instead. Adam sat back against the couch, his hands investigating his own pockets for invisible contents. Edge watched for a moment, turning his attention to Bono who was putting a cigarette out in the ashtray and sat back into his chair.
Finally, with a loud sigh, the guitarist piped up, “I thought we discussed this.”
“Come on, Dave. Cut him a break, will you?”
“He doesn’t need to be getting too close to her,” He said, holding his palms out and shrugging his shoulders up.
Bono snorted, “Yeah, that’s what her father apparently told her before he decided to wallop on her.”
“What exactly are the two of you?” Adam asked.
“We’re just friends.”
“Just friends...” Edge mirrored, trying not to roll his eyes up at his band mate.
The bassist let out an annoyed sigh and looked at his friend across the couch. “Will you stop giving him grief already?”
“She is too young,” He replied simply. “I, for one, don’t want to see another broken heart added to the list.”
“She’s well over age, isn’t she?” Adam asked, looking at Edge.
“Well, yeah.”
“Then drop it.”
The singer scoffed, sinking into the comfortable chair. He watched his friends bicker once more over the young woman he’d been spending time with for the last couple months or so and shook his head. He’s right, isn’t he? I’m a fuck up when it comes to commitment.
A loud noise from the bedroom suddenly startled them all. Bono darted up from his chair, the door opening right up for him. Grace stood there in the doorway with what could only be called an extremely pissed off expression on her face. She raised her arm up, phone in hand and tried to sling it against the wall, but the lead man grabbed her hand, holding it still and pulled her into his arms.
“What’s wrong, love? What happened?”
“I can’t believe the she had the fucking nerve to call my phone! I can’t believe her!” She screamed, squirming out of his grasp.
His band mates both stood up, racing each other to the hallway only to find the young woman trying to worm her way out of Bono’s grasp. He pulled her close again and took the phone from her hand. He shoved it into his jacket pocket and walked her into the living room. Both the bassist and guitarist moved out of the way, allowing him to make his way past them without any obstruction and he set her down into his favourite seat.
“Who called you, Grace?”
“That stupid—” She yelled, cussing indistinctly and flailing her arms.
“Who?”
“Mother,” She snorted, glaring at the wall. With crossed arms, she stared down the wall, not willing herself to look at anyone. Mother.
I recently created a journal to put this story (as well as anything else I may write) in, if anyone would like that, email me at dirnts_angel@hotmail.com and I will get that to you.
At any rate! On with the story!
Disclaimer: I don't know or own U2, don't make money off this and it never happened.
Warnings: Violence and language.
---
Weeks had gone by and life remained fairly uneventful. Grace continued to see Bono at his request to take her here or there. Whether it be to a restaurant or on a simple walk, he wanted to spend time with her. She didn’t protest this, of course. One would have to be insane to. They hadn’t considered themselves anymore than friends, regardless of what any random person on the street who would see them together said. Everyone stayed out of her way for the most part, even her own father. The mention of her mother a few weeks ago had so far held up to being nothing more than a rumor. Perhaps it was some sick joke. At least, that was what she had hoped for.
It was a day off work for the young woman and she made plans the night before via her cell phone to spend an afternoon with Bono and his band mates at his place. Apparently, they had been making quite the progress on their new album in the last few weeks and the eager lead man wanted her to get first listen of a couple songs. She dressed herself in some nice but plain clothing, donning the sunglasses and jacket he had left with her from the first day they met and made her way down the stairs.
Her father was sitting in his chair, reading the paper as usual. He didn’t bat an eye to her as she walked across the living room floor. His news paper rustled as he turned the page, his eyes lifting from it to look at the back of the jacket he’d grown accustomed to her wearing about. He cleared his throat with an ‘ahem’ and put the paper down into his lap.
“What?” She turned around.
“I talked to the guy who sells these papers you know...”
“Okay...”
What the...?
“Word has it you’re seeing that Bono character. What’s that about?” He asked, pulling his glasses off his face.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it seeing. We’re just friends,” She explained, lifting her sunglasses off her face and resting them on her head.
“Just friends, eh? That why you’re going to lunches with him and holding his hand on the street?”
Fuck
“Friends do that, no big deal.”
“I call having the family name being related to a whore a big deal,” He spat.
“Excuse me?!”
“Stay away from him. I mean it.”
“I am a grown woman. I will see who I want to see,” Grace retorted, standing her ground. She remained still as he got up from his seat, slowly standing up. His knees cracked and popped a little as his legs straightened out. With a bit of a groan, he stepped towards her, towering over her.
He glared down at her, seeming almost shocked at the fact that she was still unnerved. “You will not see Bono anymore, is that clear?”
Before she could open her mouth again, the back of his hand swiped her face, his knuckles grinding directly into her cheek bone along the way. She yelped, putting her hand on her face as the skin stung and the bone throbbed. She sucked in a deep breath, her heart began racing. Adrenaline pumped through her and she nearly raised her own hand up to him but she stopped herself, almost disgusted that she had. I can’t sink to that level.
“I’m still going,” She finally said, straightening back out. Her hand slid down her face and dropped to her side.
Disgruntled now, he slung his hand at her again, slapping her even harder. The prized sunglasses flew off her head and fell to the carpeted floor and some of her hair came loose from it’s ponytail. “Get out of my sight,” He hissed, turning back around and picking up his newspaper.
“You’re a freakin' ass.” The insult flew out of her mouth long before she could catch it. She regretted it instantly. He faced her once more, raising both hands up and pushed them against her, the force causing her to stumble back against the wall, the back of her head hitting it.
He didn’t say anything more and neither did she. Instead, she picked the sunglasses up off the floor and fled the house immediately. She would worry about her mussed hair and whatever marks showed up later on. She slipped the sunglasses back on and took off running as fast as she could to the hilltop.
Pedestrians all moved aside for her frantic scrambling down the sidewalk like a bat out of hell. She ran and ran until her knees began to get sore. Even still, she continued, landing upon the top of the hill where she flopped down and sprawled out into the cool grass. The afternoon air was very mild, a slight crisp in it’s breeze. It was more refreshing than anything. She lay out, arms and legs apart, heaving for air. She ignored the peaceful chirping, the bustling city, everything.
Her phone had rang a few times, a few beeps of missed texts and messages sounded. But she ignored them both. She simply didn’t have the will to pull her phone out of her pocket for anyone. She rolled over onto her side, placing her hand flat against the green grass beneath her and sighed. Why? Why the hell is he like that? Her thoughts were everywhere now. Wandering from what had just happened, to its humble beginnings in early childhood. She closed her eyes, not even caring if she’d fallen asleep on the quiet hill by now.
After what had felt like days, but turned out to have only been a few hours, a familiar voice cried out to her, “Grace! There you are! You didn’t answer your phone...”
“Huh?” She sat up, turning around with confusion written across her face. There he was, Bono, knelt down next to her. His expression changed to one of shock when he saw the mark on her face.
“Oh fuck, Grace, what happened to you?”
What happened? Oh! It bruised!
“What?”
He pulled her close, rocking her in his arms. She squirmed, trying to push him away. Her breathing picked up and her heart raced. Before he knew what had happened, she was slapping at his chest, using her arms to wedge them apart. She broke out of his arms and scrambled to her feet, but her balance gave on her and she tumbled over, landing right on her back and slid halfway down the other side of the hill.
Bono panicked, he was confused and freaked out at the same time. He jumped up, helping her to her feet at the risk of her freaking out all over him again. “Grace, please tell me what happened to you.”
“Bono I—” She swallowed hard, her eyes welling up with tears.
He put his arms around here again, pulling her against him. His hand lovingly rubbed her back and he pressed his lips against the top of her head, trying his best to sooth her as she sobbed against his chest. She gave in, throwing her arms around him. She clung to him like life itself depended on it and buried her face into his shoulder.
“Who did this?” He asked again, clearly wanting an answer.
“Wh...I...it...i-it was...dad...” She sputtered, fresh teardrops soaking into the dark shirt.
“Come on, my car’s just by the railroad. I’m going to take you back to my place.”
She watched as he pulled back from her and nodded his head in the direction of the cross road where the road met the railroad tracks. He began to walk ahead at first but her hand flew out and grasped his suddenly, holding it tightly. He looked back, seeing her give him that shy, timid glance of hers and broke the hold just enough to slide his arm around her. He walked her to the car and eased her into the passenger seat, then made his way around to the driver’s seat, climbing in and putting his seat belt on.
“I’m sorry,” She apologized as he started the engine.
He turned to face her. “Listen, you don’t need to apologize. This is not by any means your fault. I’m just glad that you’re not seriously hurt.”
They got quiet and remained that way the entire trip to the apartment building. He got out of the car, locking the driver’s side and made his way back to her side, opening the door. She stepped out and he pulled her close to him as he locked that door too and closed it. He led her into the building, waving by the same woman he always had on their way up. They walked to the door and he opened it, leading her inside and closing the door.
“Just sit down right here,” He instructed, pointing towards the couch. “Do you need anything? A bottle of water, maybe? Something to eat?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ll live.”
Ignoring her response, Bono went into the kitchen and returned with an unopened bottle of water, handing it to her. “Here, drink it.”
Grace took the bottle from him and twisted the cap off, taking a gulp of it as he sat down on the couch next to her. His phone rang, startling him and he fished it out of his pocket, standing back up to take it to the other room. She sighed, staring down at the coffee table not even a foot away from her as he attended to whatever call he had just gotten. He could be heard talking indistinctly and then he hung up, coming back out into the living area.
“If I’m being a bother...”
“Oh, no honey, you’re not a bother, please...” The singer replied, shuffling back to the couch and sitting back down with her.
She leaned into his arms as he sunk back into the couch, putting his arm around her. The two of them remained silent, an awkward air lingering between the two for a long moment. He shifted noticeably and she conformed to his movement, laying her head down on his shoulder. She felt safe there, like no one could hurt her and that’s what she liked. Unfortunately, it was also something that was too easy for her to get used to.
He spoke back up, picking up from their conversation on the hilltop, “You said your dad did this? What exactly happened?”
“I just...came downstairs and got ready to leave...he told me...told me he heard that we were ‘together’,” She explained with air quotes, continuing, “and that I shouldn’t see you anymore. I don’t know what I did wrong...”
His eyes widened, but she never saw it. A barely audible sigh rattled out of his chest and he stroked her arm with his hand, trying his best to comfort her. “You didn’t do anything wrong...” He managed, holding back another ragged exhale.
“Why does he think I’m a whore then?”
“Because that’s just how he is.”
Just how he is...?
“What do you mean?”
Shite, he thought to himself. “Just that...controlling fathers like him usually think that of their daughters,” He said, covering for himself.
“But I’m not a whore!” She protested, wailing.
“Oh love, just because he said it doesn’t make it so,” Bono put his other arm around her and squeezed her lightly. “However, I’d like you to get some rest. Can you do that for me?”
“I suppose...where would I...” She agreed, trailing off as her eyes wandered to the hallway.
“I’ve a few bedrooms,” He replied, helping her up off the couch and he led her down the hallway. She walked with him hesitantly as he led her to the middle bedroom, opening the door for her. He motioned to the rather large bed over by the window and she walked ahead of him, sitting down on the edge of the soft mattress.
“Bono?”
“Yes, love?”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t need to thank me. Get some rest. I’ll still be here when you wake up,” He said, making his way over to her. He gave her one more hug and turned back for the door.
“Bono?”
“Yes?”
“Here’s your sunglasses,” She offered, holding them up towards him.
“Keep them.”
Grace kicked her shoes off and tossed the jacket over onto the chair. She pulled the covers back and crawled under them, getting comfortable as he exited the room, closing the door behind him. He put his back up against the door and sighed hard. He wasn’t sure what to make of how the day had unfolded.
***
Several hours later, Edge and Adam dropped by the apartment and Bono let them in. They gathered around the living area, talking amongst each other. The singer had told the two what took place today and they both looked to each other for reassurance, the guitarist giving one of those ‘I told you so’ looks to the lead man. Unnerved, he ignored it and went about his business.
“She said her dad hit her?”
“That’s what I’ve gathered. I wouldn’t doubt it either...” Bono said.
Adam suddenly chimed into the conversation, “what exactly do you expect us to do?”
“I don’t know about you lot, but I’m looking after her.”
A silence lingered in the air. Neither of the band mates said anything more; rather they just gave each other mirrored confusion instead. Adam sat back against the couch, his hands investigating his own pockets for invisible contents. Edge watched for a moment, turning his attention to Bono who was putting a cigarette out in the ashtray and sat back into his chair.
Finally, with a loud sigh, the guitarist piped up, “I thought we discussed this.”
“Come on, Dave. Cut him a break, will you?”
“He doesn’t need to be getting too close to her,” He said, holding his palms out and shrugging his shoulders up.
Bono snorted, “Yeah, that’s what her father apparently told her before he decided to wallop on her.”
“What exactly are the two of you?” Adam asked.
“We’re just friends.”
“Just friends...” Edge mirrored, trying not to roll his eyes up at his band mate.
The bassist let out an annoyed sigh and looked at his friend across the couch. “Will you stop giving him grief already?”
“She is too young,” He replied simply. “I, for one, don’t want to see another broken heart added to the list.”
“She’s well over age, isn’t she?” Adam asked, looking at Edge.
“Well, yeah.”
“Then drop it.”
The singer scoffed, sinking into the comfortable chair. He watched his friends bicker once more over the young woman he’d been spending time with for the last couple months or so and shook his head. He’s right, isn’t he? I’m a fuck up when it comes to commitment.
A loud noise from the bedroom suddenly startled them all. Bono darted up from his chair, the door opening right up for him. Grace stood there in the doorway with what could only be called an extremely pissed off expression on her face. She raised her arm up, phone in hand and tried to sling it against the wall, but the lead man grabbed her hand, holding it still and pulled her into his arms.
“What’s wrong, love? What happened?”
“I can’t believe the she had the fucking nerve to call my phone! I can’t believe her!” She screamed, squirming out of his grasp.
His band mates both stood up, racing each other to the hallway only to find the young woman trying to worm her way out of Bono’s grasp. He pulled her close again and took the phone from her hand. He shoved it into his jacket pocket and walked her into the living room. Both the bassist and guitarist moved out of the way, allowing him to make his way past them without any obstruction and he set her down into his favourite seat.
“Who called you, Grace?”
“That stupid—” She yelled, cussing indistinctly and flailing her arms.
“Who?”
“Mother,” She snorted, glaring at the wall. With crossed arms, she stared down the wall, not willing herself to look at anyone. Mother.
I can't stand it, I need to know more! Great story.
