An intensely powerful account of a teen, bullied for her port-wine stain, who must summon her personal strength to survive abduction and horrific abuse at the hands of a deranged killer
Sixteen-year-old Sarah Meadows longs for "normal." Born with a port wine-stain covering half her face, she has been plagued by stares, giggles, bullying, and disgust all her life. But when she's abducted on the way home from school, Sarah is forced to uncover the courage she never knew she had, become a hero rather than a victim, and learn to look beyond her face to find the beauty and strength she has inside. It's that—or succumb to a killer.
|Publisher:||Blackstone Audio, Inc.|
|Product dimensions:||5.20(w) x 5.80(h) x 0.70(d)|
|Age Range:||14 - 17 Years|
About the Author
Cheryl Rainfield writes realistic edgy fiction for teens, fantasy for children, and some nonfiction articles for adults. She edits and critiques children's and teen fiction, and on her website she reviews a wide variety of children's and young adult books. In addition to writing, Cheryl is also a talented artist. She lives in Toronto with her dog, Petal.
Emily Bauer is an accomplished actor and voice-over artist who has narrated hundreds of audiobooks. Her film credits include Mona Lisa Smile and Long Distance and her theater credits include the thirty-fifth anniversary production of Hair and Almost Heaven: John Denver's America.
Kirby Heyborne is a musician, actor, and professional narrator. Noted for his work in teen and juvenile audio, Kirby has garnered numerous Earphones Awards. His audiobook credits include Jesse Kellerman's The Genius, Cory Doctorow's Little Brother, and George R. R. Martin's Selections from Dreamsongs.
Read an Excerpt
Today is the day I’ve been waiting for my entire life—the beginning of normal.
I reach for the latest Seventeen and flip through its glossy pages until I find the perfect face. The girl is pretty, with wide green eyes, hollow cheekbones, and full, pouty lips. But what I notice most is her smooth, unblemished skin. It’s perfect. I cut the photo out and stick it above my bed, in the last of the space. Now I can’t even see the sunlight yellow of my walls—but the confidence that shines in these faces is even brighter. and today I’m going to get so much closer to that. I don’t care how much the treatments hurt; it’ll be worth it. It can’t hurt as much as the stares and rude comments I get every day.
I know I shouldn’t let people’s ignorance get to me. Mom’s always telling me I’m beautiful; that it’s what’s inside that counts. But she’s not living in the real world. Sure, whether you’re kind or good matters. But pretty people automatically get better treatment. ugly people get ignored . . . if they’re lucky. and me, I get stares, taunts, or people going out of their way to pretend they don’t see me.
I try to think of it as fuel for my comic scripts. all heroes have to go through personal trauma before they find their true strength—and most of them feel like outsiders even after they do. Like Clark Kent not being able to save his adopted father from a heart attack even though he’s Superman, and his never being able to share his entire self with anyone except his parents. Being an outsider, and always having people react to my face until they get used to me, hurts. That’s why I created Diamond.
I’ve always wanted to have meanness bounce off me the way bullets bounce off Superman. So I made Diamond’s skin as strong as a diamond; nothing hurts her. I wish I could be that way; even after sixteen years of this, I still get hurt. But soon all the disgusted looks and whispers are going to stop. I’ll be just another face in the crowd. No awkward silences when people look at me, no jokes or clumsy attempts at politeness. Just a regular teen who can fade into her surroundings if she wants to. I tuck the magazine into my backpack. Excitement flutters in my chest, light and frantic as moths. I wonder if I’ll be able to see the difference tonight. If other people will.
I touch my fingers against the smooth skin of my cheek. I can’t feel where the purple begins and ends, aside from it being slightly warmer, but I know exactly where it is—it spreads out
from the right side of my nose, almost to my ear, and comes down to my bottom lip in a lopsided triangle.
I know I’m lucky; it could be worse. The port-wine stain just misses my forehead and eye, which means I don’t have glaucoma, seizures, and brain abnormalities. But I still feel like I’m from another planet. Maybe that’s why I love comics so much. Superheroes are always outsiders, and most had difficult childhoods. They feel like my people. I finger comb my hair over the right side of my face. I know from long practice by the weight of my hair and the angle it falls, that it’s covering my cheek enough to help me pass. I don’t need a mirror to know. Not that I own one.
I grab my backpack. I’m too nervous to eat, and I used up breakfast time anyway, poring over Seventeen. I touch the Superman flying across my laptop screen, his face fierce and determined. “Wish me luck,” I whisper.
I rush down the stairs, almost tripping on the treads. “I’m ready!” I sing out. This is better than christmas morning. Better than any birthday I’ve ever had. I’m finally going to be like everyone else.
I rock to a stop on the bottom step. Dad is standing in the hallway, his face as pale as bone, his cell trembling in his hand.
“Daddy?” I whisper.
Mom is holding him from the side, one hand flat over his heart, the other gripping his back like she can keep him from
breaking apart. She’s whispering to him earnestly, her face pressed up against his neck. “It’ll be okay, Thomas.” Her starched shirt’s already wrinkled, and her mascara is running.
This is bad. Really bad.
“What is it?” I edge down the last step and swallow the lump of fear in my throat. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”
Dad doesn’t hear me. His eyes are wide, almost blank, staring like he can’t really see me. Mom turns her head—“Sarah, honey”—and stretches out her arm. She pulls me into a three-person hug, and I breathe in her orange-blossom scent, Dad’s spicy aftershave, his body odor, and, above all that, the metallic scent of fear.
Mom kisses the top of my head. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” But her voice is high and strained, and Dad is trembling, shivers coming from deep inside him.
“Dad?” I press my cheek against his damp shirt.
Dad blinks. “Sarah.” He tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace. “Honey.” His voice is rough with emotion. “We’ve got to cancel your appointment.”
“What?” I stare at him, unable to process his words. “We’ll rebook, right?”
“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” Mom says primly.
I turn on her. “You promised me! You know how much I need this!” I jerk away from them both, Mom’s fingers tugging at my shirt.
The floor feels like it’s moving beneath me. No treatments
and my face will get worse. The best time for treatments is now, when I’m young. I really should have had them as a baby. They know that. They’ve read all the pamphlets and articles I printed out for them. My discolored skin is only going to get darker, thicker, even lumpy.
“Sarah, sweetie,” Mom says, reaching for me again.
I step back, glaring at her. “You did this!” I scream. “You never wanted me to get the treatments! You’re always trying to cram that inner-beauty crap down my throat. But guess what, Mom? People don’t care who I am inside; they can’t get past my face! I don’t know how you can pretend it doesn’t matter, when you never had to live like that! You can get anything you want because you’re beautiful!”
I clap my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, I—”
“You listen to me, young lady—not everyone is as shallow as you!” Mom yells, shaking her finger at me. “Looks aren’t enough in this world. and if you haven’t figured that out by now—” She lets her arm drop back by her side, her shoulders slumping. “Then I don’t know what to do with you.”
“Hey,” Dad says, shaking his head like he’s trying to dislodge water from his ears. “That’s enough, both of you.” He looks at me, his gaze coming back into focus. “Sarah, I know you’re disappointed, but you can’t talk to your mom that way. Now apologize.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, my voice sullen even to my ears.
Mom sighs heavily, always the silent guilter. “I’m sorry, too.” “and your mother is not the reason we have to cancel your appointment,” Dad says, his eyes sad. “Something’s happened.
I try to understand what he’s saying. Dad is a graphic designer with his own company. He mostly works with organizations that make a positive difference, and he does pro bono work for nonprofits. He says it’s his way of putting good into the world. Sometimes he comes home shaken up by the things he’s heard, like when he did work for a rape crisis center. But he’s never looked like this—as if someone has reached inside and ripped out his lungs.
I swallow the thick saliva in my throat. I’m being selfish. But I’ve hoped so desperately for a chance at normal.
I tighten my lips and try to stop them from trembling. “What happened?” I ask, not wanting to know, yet needing to. “Did another girl—?”
“Nothing like that!” Dad says quickly. “My company—we’ve been financially gutted.”
I stare at him, trying to fit the pieces together.
“Someone embezzled from us,” Dad says wearily. “Someone on the inside. I just got the call. We lost more than one hundred thousand that we were given on loan. That we owe the bank.”
“Dad!” Fear shudders beneath my rib cage. “That’s crazy!
I’m so sorry.” The words are too little, almost meaningless for something this big. “Are we going to lose the house?”
Dad runs his fingers through his hair, making it stand up. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
I struggle to breathe. We’ve lived here since I was born. I feel like I’m sinking beneath the weight of it all.
But then I look at Dad’s drawn face, the muscles pulling at his cheekbones, the dark fear in his eyes. He looks worse than I feel. “Daddy, you can use my college fund to help pay back the bank,” I say. “You can have it all.”
Dad makes a choking sound like a half laugh, half sob. “No, honey—that’s yours. You need it for college, especially now. I only hope the bank doesn’t seize it.”
I bite my lip. Dad’s face is gray and sweating. I wish my college fund could solve this for him, but he’s right—it wouldn’t make a dent in this big a debt. I almost can’t comprehend one hundred thousand dollars. The enormity of it makes me feel like I can’t breathe, and it must be so much worse for him. I know he feels responsible for the people who work for him, as well as for Mom and me.
I reach for Dad’s hand.
There’s a knock on the front door, and the door swings open, bringing a rush of cold, crisp March air, the scent of snow, noisy street sounds full of life. Brian walks in, stamping his feet noisily on the mat, smiling broadly, his skin flushed from the
cold. Even as he’s coming in from the snow, his suit pants look perfectly creased and clean. I flip my hair over my cheek even more, hiding behind it like a curtain. Brian’s one of the Beautiful People—and beautiful people are just as uncomfortable around me as I am around them.
Brian’s smile drops. Standing so close to Dad, looking like a model with his dark curly hair, bright blue eyes, and sturdy, dimpled chin, he makes Dad look even worse. Frailer, somehow. “Hey, should I come back later?” Brian asks, shifting his
laptop from one hand to the other.
“No,” Dad says abruptly. “You might as well know. Everyone will soon enough. The company’s in financial trouble. If you want to look for another job, I understand. I’ll give you good references.”
Brian rubs his throat. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
“We owe more than a hundred thousand that we don’t have. Someone stole it,” Dad says abruptly.
“God,” Brian says. “Is there anything I can do?” He looks at Mom, then Dad. “Have you phoned the police?”
“First thing,” Mom says.
“I’m heading there now,” Dad says wearily.
“Well, let me come with you. I’m not going to abandon ship.” Brian puts his hand on Dad’s sleeve. “come on; let’s see what we can do.”
Dad nods slowly and allows himself to be drawn away. He walks unsteadily, like he isn’t sure where the floor is.
“I’ll take good care of him, Ellen,” Brian says over his shoulder. “Don’t you worry. He’s in good hands.”
Brian takes Dad’s coat off the hook and helps him into it, as if Dad is sick or very old—and Dad just lets him, like he’s forgotten how to dress himself. I’m grateful to Brian, even as I hate that Dad needs him.
Brian looks over at me then, like he can hear my thoughts. His gaze is so intense, it’s like we’re the only two people in the room. “Hey, Sarah—keep your chin up.”
I sigh softly and keep my face angled downward, away from him, hiding behind my hair.
Brian guides Dad out with a last reassuring smile for Mom. The door shuts behind them, the sound loud in the silence. I want to run after Dad, but instead I stand there, breathing shallowly. The house feels empty, like all the life has drained out of it.
Mom shakes herself. “Well. We still have to get on with our day.” She picks a piece of imaginary lint off her suit, then smiles crookedly at me. “I’m sorry about your treatments, hon. I know how much you were depending on them.”
“It’s okay.” I force the words, choking on them.
“Why do you hide your face like that?” Mom pushes my hair
back from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. “You should let people see you.”
“Like Mrs. Barton?” I say, shaking my hair back in place. “That was years ago.”
I don’t look at her. “I’m going to be late.”
Mom sighs again, her cloying orange-blossom scent filling the hall. “You’re beautiful, Sarah—inside and out. If some people can’t see that, that’s their loss.”
I’ve heard her say that so many times, the words are almost meaningless, but I agree so she’ll drop it. “right.”
Mom strokes my hair. “You know the treatment is only temporary. The purple would have come back in a few years—and the treatments would have hurt. That’s why we didn’t want to put you through it.”
I bite down hard on my lip. a few years of people smiling at me instead of gawking. a few years of fitting in, of easy conversations, of finally being normal. I would trade almost anything for that. and the discoloration might not come back. She doesn’t know for sure. But none of it matters now.
Mom rests her hand on my head. “I wish you could see yourself the way we do—”
“I wish you could understand!”
“Maybe I do,” Mom says quietly. “But maybe I want things to get better for you. And I don’t think hiding is going to do it.”
I grit my teeth to keep from saying something I’ll regret.
“Believe it or not, I was shy and withdrawn when I was your age. It wasn’t until I broke out of my shell and started making friends that things got better.”
“I have friends,” I mutter.
“I know you do,” Mom says, but she sounds like she’s saying the opposite.
I grab my coat. “I’ve got to go.”
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
A book moms should read with daughters. Stained was hard for me to read. I can't tell you why without giving spoilers. Women who have endured violence at the hands of men should be forewarned that this book may contain panic triggers, but there's a powerful message here for both boys and girls - what's inside is far more important than what appears on the outside. Caroline Cooney released The Face on the Milk Carton in 1990 and Lois Duncan spent the entire 90s writing about being victimized after experiencing personal trauma. I haven't read the author April Henry, who writes with similar themes, but Cheryl Rainfield includes Henry as an influence so I've added Henry to my to-read list. Two, working on three, decades later, there's still a need for books like these to help prepare our kids for this world. Duncan, Cooney, and Henry started telling young adults about violence; Cheryl Rainfield took that premise and built on it. She goes one step further, giving details about what happens after reporting the crime - what happens at the hospital. So many court cases are lost because victims don't know what to do after the crime happens. That's my favorite part of this book.
It had a very powerful start, putting us in Sarah's shoes, showing how it feels to have such a prominent stain on her face. She is tormented and she feels like no one gives her the chance to see who she is besides someone that is not physically perfect. I liked the dual perspective and getting to know Nick. He is nerdy and he is kind so I automatically was cheering for him even though he knew that she didn't see him like that. He saw past her face, and found her beautiful anyways. He thinks she is strong and they have a connection through comic books, he draws and she writes them. There is a lot going on with Sarah, her dad has trouble at work and while she was going to get treatments for her face, that had to be put off because of the finances. I did like her mom, and I know as a teen that had to be annoying to be constantly told your parents think you are beautiful and that it is more than physical beauty to the world. But I am glad that she is present and saying these things. I would be remiss if I didn't mention the formatting. I am not sure, it is probably a product of being an ARC (advanced reader copy) but there were "l"s missing, and some of the lines were cut off. But anyways, Cheryl Rainfield the author writes with such passion and so beautifully dark and gritty. The details of what Sarah went through weren't skimmed over, they were examined and it focused on her feelings too. I was amazed at how strong she was, how courageous and the will to survive. I also thought this story was all the more powerful because Cheryl writes from personal experience in abuse. That really touched me that she can relate with her main characters that way, that the feelings and emotions come from a very real place. And that she is able to share the stories, no matter what details are fiction and what comes from what she has experienced is a real gift. Not only to survivors of abuse or captivity that there is hope and that outlets exist for pain, but to those who haven't been through something like this to get a harrowing and realistic look at the mindset and experience of someone kidnapped, raped, and manipulated. I also rooted for Sarah so much because she was smart. Even though desperate, she used her brain and did what she needed to in order to survive for the most part. She learned from her mistakes and her pride, and she was a mental fighter. I love how she became her own hero and learned to see the beauty inside and out. Bottom Line: Powerful look of a courageous main character with a will to live.
This book is AMAZING..... Cheryl did a wonderful job. I couldn't put the book down, That's how good it was. Made me sad in some of the book of how Sarah was all alone didn't have her family with her through this. But what made me so happy is when she escaped. Everybody should read this book. I'm giving it a 5 star cause it is a good book. Good job Cheryl.
Do you want to read a story that is extremely realistic, puts you on the edge of your seat, and makes you care deeply for the characters? Then I would suggest Stained by the amazing Cheryl Rainfield, who has also written Scars, Hunted, and Parallel Visions. Like in her previous books, Cheryl writes with deep passion and realism, giving an unflinching and honest view of a world that very few people dare to speak about. In Stained, the main character, Sarah Meadows, endures bullying from her fellow classmates and rude stares from strangers for the port wine stain that she was born with. Despite this, she has loving, affectionate parents and a strong, defiant personality. I absolutely loved her as a character. When she gets abducted, she is forced to endure horrible abuse and neglect. I found that my heart was in my throat as I read her defiant struggle to escape and to not let her abuser win. I will not give away specific details, but the plot is excellent, told in the first person point of view of Sarah and her friend, Nick. These alternating points of view keep the novel suspenseful and make you want to keep reading until you've reached the end. I also love the message of this novel, that one should stand up to bullying and help those out who are in need whenever possible. There is also the message that you can be your own hero. I love that Sarah finds inspiration in comic books, and that she relies on the love and support that she gets from her family and friends to survive, to not give up any hope even when the future seems bleak and dreary. It takes real strength to go through something like that. I've heard so many people say that it's depressing talking or writing about subjects such as abuse and abduction. What is more depressing to me is the fact that so many people are scared to talk about these every day occurrences, and in doing so they are supporting a system that silences survivors. If we could only speak more openly about these horrible yet real occurrences, perhaps we could spark a change in someone's life. Your neighbor may see something suspicious and actually act upon on it instead of ignoring the warning signs. I also believe that there is healing in actively talking about traumatic events. If we are more open to having an active discussion about taboo subjects such as rape and incest, perhaps the shame and guilt that survivors feel will lessen. It is always hard to come out and say that yes, this happened to me, but writers like Cheryl Rainfield give me hope in such dark times. She can inspire people, both young and old, to come out and share their similar experiences, whether it be bullying, sexual abuse, or any other sort of harm. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it before but this is why she's one of my biggest heroes. I definitely suggest Stained since it will be a book that you will not forget. Yes, it tackles tough issues, but it is a powerful, amazing book about finding courage in the darkest of times and finding the hidden strength within you to keep pushing forward. It is extremely inspiring and an amazing read.