Amazon BEE-CON BOOKS Category:  Action/Thriller Publisher: BEE-CON BOOKS ISBN-10:  0971583838 Type: Fiction Pages: 324 Copyright: June 10, 1996 ISBN-13: 9780971583832 Teenage, female psychopath is taken into the family fold of her therapist and tries to find her place in society. Adrena Reynolds, born to a teenage mother has spent her first few years of life with a loving grandmother.  She is stripped away and used as a pawn for drug money.  Uneducated, Adrena languishes in an abusive environment that culminates in a sadistic rape at the age of ten.  The system drops the most hideous of all results of the drug culture into the lap of a young, beautiful psychiatrist who reaches a severely damaged child the only way she can, with love.   Vivian Matthews programs Adrena, and like a sponge the child absorbs and imitates her mentor.  Vivian introduces her to a world Adrena could never have envisioned.  Vivian shares more than education, money, possessions and time with Adrena; she shares her family, which offers a wonderful backdrop to the suspense of Adrena’s psychosis.    Harnessing her insecurities, anger, and violence is a monumental task that Vivian hopes she has equipped Adrena with.  However, Adrena is damaged in ways that can’t be reached.   What Vivian has actually done is provided Adrena with a mask.  She’s cunning, cool and lovable; and she kills without detection.   These two women share this story and the reflections are amazing!  It is a psychological look into the lives of African American women that has never been explored.  It brings “The Color Purple” into the new millennium with a bang! Excerpt Chapter One The flawless, milk chocolate beauty of the young lady could only be regarded as exceedingly pleasing to the eye. Her long, coarse, pitch-black hair was pulled back severely into a ponytail which dangled loosely between her shoulder blades. The exotic slope of her almond-shaped, dark brown eyes gave the illusion of a perpetual smile. Although still in her teens, she had an exquisitely proportioned body and the promise of blossoming into a truly memorable woman. Her low, slightly raspy voice foretold a future of wonderfully intimate conversations. In fact, Adrena Reynolds possessed every superficial physical element necessary to fulfill the yearnings of a healthy young woman; moreover, a pool of intelligence to be envied bubbled vibrantly beneath her stunning exterior. Unfortunately, deeply-scarring emotional experiences had forced Adrena to grow up practically in seclusion. Happy thoughts of teenage girls the world over seldom, if ever, entered her mind. On the sofa of psychiatrist Dr. Vivian Matthews, Adrena had been revealing her life, real and imagined, since she was ten years old - state-assigned. The years of discovery and growth shared by Adrena and Dr. Matthews had produced a relationship which surmounted all barriers to intimacy and, as a result, was more binding than one between a therapist and patient should be. Perhaps, if Adrena had not been Dr. Matthews’ very first patient, it would have been different. If only there had been one other person in the world Adrena could have turned to – a mother, grandmother, or an aunt. If she had not been so young, so physically and emotionally savaged . . . so vulnerable and needy. Or perhaps if the state had placed Adrena with a foster mother, as Dr. Matthews had recommended, and not with couples. In their therapy sessions, Dr. Matthews had learned of Adrena’s deep-seated distrust of couples. Adrena believed all women were born with minds of their own, but she also believed that the mind of a woman would be devoured by the man she loved, as payment for loving him. Only recently had Dr. Matthews been able to make any progress in altering Adrena’s ideas of the dynamics of male-female relationships. Over the past six years, Adrena had been placed with seven foster families. During that time, there had been two separate incidents in which Adrena set fire to the house while her foster parents slept, after one of them did or said something which she deemed unacceptable! Fortunately, there had been no loss of life. The first incident, which occurred when Adrena was eleven, was shared with Dr. Matthews, but the doctor had simply refused to believe that the beautiful, soft-spoken little girl could be capable of such a vicious act and insisted that the fire wasn’t Adrena’s fault – after all, with children, it was sometimes impossible to discern truth from imagination. On the second occasion, Adrena made it clear to Dr. Matthews that she was in fact the arsonist. There were other tales Adrena did not share with Dr. Matthews. Nearing her twelfth birthday, Adrena was living in the foster home of Mr. and Mrs. Kevin Rose. There were five children in the Rose household – three natural children and two foster children. Adrena was the oldest and the only female. Occasionally, Adrena’s conspicuously developing body held the attention of Kevin Rose. Of course, he would never have admitted to wanting to take his attention any further than admiration – and, in fact, he never did. Kevin Rose was, for all intents and purposes, a good foster father. He spoke with such melodic clarity that he could help a child with phonetic spelling from way across the room. He could give math the kind of rhythmic spin that made it a wonder to the youthful mind. Adrena saw how Mrs. Rose’s angry eyes traveled constantly from her lusting husband to Adrena. However, Mrs. Rose never said a word to her husband; her only response was to send Adrena to the store or on some other unnecessary errand. Hadn’t Adrena seen her own mother give her stepfather that same impotent look of defeated disgust on more than one occasion? Taking matters into her own hands, Adrena began to give serious thought to stopping Mr. Rose from giving her that look only men seemed to deliver so well. As Adrena washed dishes after dinner one evening, the answer came to her while cleaning and preparing the coffeepot for Mr. Rose’s morning cup. Adrena dabbed dishwashing liquid onto a paper towel, wiped the inside of the filter tray of the coffee machine, replaced it, and smiled. No one questioned Adrena about Mr. Rose’s heinous bout of nausea and diarrhea that forced him to leave work early the next day and spend the evening in bed. In the weeks that followed, no one questioned Adrena about Mr. Rose’s sudden burst of manic energy after drinking Ritalin residue or about his deep, unrelenting Benadryl-induced evening naps. Dr. Matthews removed her from the Rose household only after Adrena began to complain about the other children. The next foster family in Adrena’s life only lasted two days. Mr. Jacobs made the mistake of innocently stroking Adrena’s arm in greeting the first day. Then he allowed his hand to flow down her back the second day, and Adrena’s reaction to his familiarity was immediate and violent. As Mrs. Jacobs frantically dialed for the police, Mr. Jacobs fought valiantly with Adrena, suffering deep scratches, dark bruises, and a vicious bite. He knew he had done something to provoke Adrena, but didn’t know exactly what it was. He pressed no charges. Dr. Matthews retrieved Adrena from the police station and confined her patient in the medical wing of the orphanage for six months for further observation. Adrena would waltz into Dr. Matthews’ officer for her scheduled visits and calmly admit to most of her despicable deeds. By observing Dr. Matthews’ responses to certain revelations, Adrena developed enough of a survival instinct to know exactly which facts to filter out. Medications administered to unwitting foster parents were never discussed. Only fresh anger compelled Adrena to divulge the occasional indiscretion involving a human being; however, she told Dr. Matthews everything about the atrocities she committed against animals. Dr. Matthews would fervently admonish Adrena for acting out and threaten to institutionalize her if she couldn’t rein in her more violent behavior. Then they would discuss Adrena’s unacceptable activities, how she felt about them afterward, and what appropriate responses could have been made. No matter how horrendous Adrena’s behavior, the remarkable little girl appealed to Dr. Matthews’ unfulfilled maternal instincts. Taking on the extra responsibility of encouraging Adrena to reach up, rather than lash out at the world, was not originally an act of love for Dr. Matthews – it was simply humane. How anyone could see a child in desperate need, have a little time, intelligence, patience and a few extra dollars, and not share them was beyond the young doctor’s comprehension. Dr. Matthews could tell no one exactly when the lines between doctor and patient became blurred . . . nor could she tell anyone the exact day she began to love Adrena as if she were her very own child. Adrena’s strikingly attractive features were all that were noticed by most people. Her behavior, in average situations, could only be viewed as normal, but in a stressful or intimate scenario one would begin to see Adrena’s flaws. Dr. Matthews, however, didn’t see them as flaws; she saw Adrena’s reactions as perfectly appropriate under the circumstances. Adrena was striking back at a world that had, until the age of ten, violently abused and neglected her. As a matter of fact, Dr. Matthews saw Adrena’s self-protective reactions as progress, for a child who once had lain passively catatonic, unless touched, for seven months and had not been able to speak for a year. Her entire existence had revolved around loneliness and fear. She feared everyone. And every painful step Adrena made from that state of being was not only a personal victory for her, but for Dr. Matthews, too . . . as were her missteps, regressions and failures. After many long, gratifying hours of individual tutoring by Dr. Matthews and staff members, Adrena left the life of institutions and entered the world of real schools. Because Adrena would become sulky and belligerent if anyone other than Dr. Matthews entered school on her behalf, Dr. Matthews remained deeply involved in her school life. She always collected and signed all of Adrena’s assignments, projects, and report cards. Dr. Matthews also doled out the appropriate feedback. She applauded wildly at every piano recital. So too was Dr. Matthews involved in every other aspect of Adrena’s life. She wept and frantically paced the hospital corridor when Adrena’s appendix ruptured. She expressed disappointment when Adrena disobeyed her foster parents. It was also Dr. Matthews who tried desperately, through therapy, hypnosis and drugs, to give Adrena a glimpse of normalcy. * * * Today, Dr. Matthews’ precious, slightly imperfect, doll had taken a giant step backward. Adrena, with her uniquely impish but angelic smile, sat across from Dr. Matthews in the comfortably appointed office and shared her latest terroristic act. Life experiences from the ages of three to ten had robbed Adrena of any genuinely reliable emotions – hot or cold. Now, at sixteen, her richly seductive voice was a contradiction to her matter-of-fact manner of speaking. “Doc, they’ve told me I can’t come back to school for three days.” “Why, Adrena?” In a breathless, but somehow unconcerned rush, Adrena said, “I really need to get back before then. I have a final on Friday. Can’t you do something, Doc?” “You haven’t told me why.” With a barely perceptible tilt of her head, she said, “There was an incident in chemistry class today.” “Involving what and whom?” “Involving a little liquid acid and Harvey.” Fighting an overwhelming parental urge to yell, Dr. Matthews asked, “Adrena, what happened to Harvey?” Without emotion, Adrena began her story. “This morning, in homeroom, Harvey flicked his tongue at me. I ignored him, like you told me to, Doc. He sits behind me in English. Anyway, he kept leaning forward, panting like a dog, and making sickening, sucking sounds in my ear. I ignored him. “During lunch, he came over to my table and stared. He picked up my ice cream cup, pulled the lid off, and licked the ice cream. Then, he closed it and put it back on my tray. I took a deep breath and ignored him. Just like you told me to. “Everything was fine, until seventh period, Doc. That’s chemistry. We were all working on erosion experiments. The teacher gave us each tiny vials of acid to do simulations. “Harvey got up and headed in my direction. He walked right up to my seat, reached down, and that slimy bastard touched my ass. He squeezed it, Doc. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore him. When Harvey came back, he did the same thing again. A couple of the kids laughed. I don’t know why. Do you?” Speaking therapeutically, Dr. Matthews said, “Some of the children were sexually excited. Others were nervous. Giggling was the only acceptable response they could exhibit and remain a part of the group. It’s typical adolescent behavior, Adrena – as basic and old as time. They think of it as part of the mating ritual. As usual, they’re wrong. What Harvey did to you, Adrena, was not acceptable behavior. Go on with your story. Did you continue ignoring him?” Irritated by Dr. Matthews’ detached reaction to the obvious sexual assault, Adrena responded sharply, “Doc, I tried. He wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept touching me. I tried!” “I believe you tried, Adrena. Just take a deep breath, calm down, and tell me what happened.” As always, Adrena followed the doctor’s instructions to the letter. She took a deep breath, composed herself, and continued. “Breathing didn’t work the second time Harvey touched me. I didn’t blow up, Doc. Really. I raised my hand and asked Mrs. Marshall if I could refill my vial. She told me I could, if I didn’t put too much in it and promised to be careful. I promised. “I took the long route around the room, walked over to the cabinet and filled the vial to the top – carefully, the way Mrs. Marshall said. Without looking, I knew Harvey had spun completely around on his stool to watch me. He probably wiggled his legs in that disgusting way of his the entire time. If not exactly that, I know he did something because some of the kids were laughing and pointing in his direction. I didn’t put the lid on the vial for my return trip. “When I got close, Harvey grinned. I knew he intended to touch me again, Doc. I didn’t try to duck him, either. Just like I expected, Harvey put his hand out and ran it over my ass again. Before he could squeeze, I turned and tipped the vial. That acid landed right where I wanted it to – all over the fly of his baggy jeans! I should have aimed higher though.” Adrena stopped her storytelling and smiled at the recollection before continuing, “I stood there just long enough to see the puff of smoke and the little holes flare out in Harvey’s pants. Then, I walked on. I was in my seat when Harvey started screaming like a little girl. “Mrs. Marshall took Harvey’s jeans and underwear off right there in class in front of everybody. He kept yelling, ‘Adrena! Adrena!’ I didn’t care what he yelled. Mrs. Marshall didn’t say a word to me until after the emergency medics took Harvey’s bare ass off on a stretcher. “I told Mrs. Marshall it was an accident. Harvey had pushed me. Two other people saw Harvey’s hand. They told Mrs. Marshall it looked like he pushed me, too.” Mimicking Mrs. Marshall’s words and mannerisms, Adrena said, “Adrena, you could have ruined Harvey’s entire life with your carelessness. If you had simply followed instructions and put the lid on securely, the entire incident would have been avoided.” Resuming her own persona, Adrena continued, “She recommended a three-day suspension, Doc, and the principal agreed. Can’t you talk to them, Doc? I really need to take that test. They may try to penalize my grade for taking it late.” “Adrena, I can’t do that. What you did was wrong. You have to understand there are penalties.” “So what, if what I did was wrong? What he did was wrong. We were both wrong.” “That’s right. Still, two wrongs didn’t make it right, Adrena.” “What’s so exciting about being right, Doc?” “You’ll be the one on the outside of the bars. Is that exciting enough for you?” “His shit accelerated as the day went on, Doc! I ignored him! Was I supposed to just let him keep going? If he tore my clothes off, was I supposed to take a deep breath and continue to ignore him? When would it have been cool for me to pour the acid, Doc?” “Actually, never, Adrena. Retribution should be handled by the proper authorities.” “I wasn’t there for the vote, Doc.” Unable to avoid the smile creeping across her face, Dr. Matthews said, “I wasn’t there either, but I abide by that decision. It’s the law, Adrena. What you did wouldn’t even be considered self-defense. It’s called vigilantism. The authorities do not look kindly on it. Degrees of wrong are seldom weighed in courts of law. You were both wrong.” “His trip to the hospital made it right for me . . . for now. The best burns were on his thighs. Only a few drops landed where I wanted them to. If you talk to the principal, he’ll believe it was an accident, Doc.” “Perhaps he would, Adrena. I won’t tell him that though. My participation would only mean I condone your behavior. I don’t. If losing a few points is the penalty, you’ll pay it. Didn’t you see any other alternative responses to Harvey’s misbehavior?” Obviously agitated, Adrena barked, “No!” “Why didn’t you tell Mrs. Marshall that Harvey was touching you?” Adrena asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Why didn’t Harvey tell Mrs. Marshall he was going to touch me? Besides, you should know by now that the only woman I depend on to save me, is me.” “I don’t question the fact that you were provoked, Adrena, but I would be shirking my responsibility to you if I didn’t help you find alternative responses. Socially acceptable responses. Non-criminal behavior. Mrs. Marshall isn’t your mother, Adrena. Mrs. Marshall might actually have done something constructive.” “Look, Doc, I know Mrs. Marshall’s not my mother. If she was Mildred, I wouldn’t have wasted a drop of acid on Harvey’s sorry ass. A big stick would have sent him off to the hospital, too. I like Mrs. Marshall. She’s a real nice lady. Sort of reminds me of you. I talk to you, but I don’t expect you to rescue me from the Harveys of the world, Doc. All women do is talk. It sounds nice, but men don’t understand talk. They understand fear, pain, death, acid. Real things.” “Adrena, if you continue to act out, you’re going to destroy everything you’re working so hard to accomplish. Straight A’s and a scholarship all down the drain for one impulsive act.” “I never act impulsively, Doc. I know exactly what I’m doing, when I do it.” “There’s not one flicker of remorse for causing Harvey that much pain, Adrena?” “Not a flicker, Doc. Since you’re not going to talk to the principal, let’s talk about something else.” “Okay. Your mother will be here for your next visit. How do you feel about that?” There was a slight tilt of Adrena’s head and a pause before she responded, “I don’t feel anything about that either, Doc. My mother’s dead. She married good old Bartholomew. Remember?” “Well, your mother’s ghost will be here. She has something to tell you.” Adrena closed her elegant eyes and said dreamily, “Adrena, my dearest daughter, Mama’s got a terminal illness. She’ll be dying soon. Of course, there will be a great deal of suffering beforehand. Will you be there for me?” There was the briefest of pauses before she said, “Oh Mama, I wouldn’t miss your suffering for anything in the world. When does it start? I’d like to have refreshments on hand!” Moaning audibly, Dr. Matthews said, “Adrena, that’s cruel.” “Hey, Doc, we’re talking about the woman who sat in the room and watched her husband tie up and rape her own ten-year-old daughter. The woman who knew he intended to sell me to every sick junkie in the city, all for the price of getting high. My suffering didn’t pull one drop of motherly love from her, and her suffering won’t get a drop from me either. The colder and deader the slut is, the better I’ll like it. If you’re really hoping to mend those fences, Doc, save it for somebody else. My mother and her husband are the owners of my final emotion.” “Is hate your final emotion, Adrena?” “It’s deeper than hate, Doc. Darker. Colder. More like hate’s great, great, great-granddaddy.” “Adrena, hatred will consume you. Destroy you. There has to be some other emotion you’re not acknowledging.” Adrena closed her eyes again. She slowly rocked her head from side to side, mimicking an internal audit. She opened her eyes and said frankly, “Nope. Can’t find another emotion worth mentioning, Doc.” “How do you feel about me, Adrena?” A faint smile touched Adrena’s sensual lips before she said, “I like you better than any other human on this planet. I would die for you, Doc. Now, I bet you want to know why.” Dr. Matthews said, “Yes, I’d like to know why.” As if she were reading the ingredients on a cake box, Adrena said, “Because, somehow, I know you would die for me. At first, I thought you were throwing me pity parties. Doing things for the poor, little, homeless, emotional idiot. I told you the very worst things I could think of. Most of it true, by the way. Very few lies. You would shrug and tell me I was on the wrong track. Then, you would cross your arms and tell me one or two other ways I should react in the future. When my session was over, you would give me a gift for some special occasion. “Doc, I don’t know why you do, but you love me in spite of the fact that I can’t love you back. I know the state doesn’t pay you for all of the sessions I have. They never paid you for visiting my schools or the hospital. You never forget my birthday, Valentine’s Day, Easter, or Christmas. Every Halloween costume I’ve ever had came from you. Every special dress. Extra shoes. Money for class trips. Gym clothes. Piano lessons. You’re the molder of all the happiness I’ve known. Led me to the only peaceful corner in my mind. If there is one iota of good in me, and I sincerely hope there is for your sake, you are its mother. Just remember, I didn’t say there was.” “Adrena, there is no greater love than laying down one’s life for another. You’re saying you love me.” “No, I’m not. I’m stating facts.” “Okay, young lady, your time’s up. No more crimes at school. You’re not too old, pretty, or intelligent for another confinement trip to the orphanage. Is there a note or anything I need to sign for school? A call I have to make?” “No note. You have to be with me when I show up on Monday morning though. The principal wants to speak to you. Personally, I think he likes looking at you, Doc.” “He’s not my type, Adrena. Okay. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. Continue your breathing and concentration in adverse situations. If anything else happens, call me before you retaliate. Take your medication. I don’t know what your mother has up her sleeve, so be prepared for your next session. If you need to talk before then, call me.” As Dr. Matthews watched Adrena proudly prance in the direction of the elevators, her final goal for Adrena crystallized in her mind. More than anything in the world, she really wanted to hear Adrena say she loved someone. Dr. Matthews would settle for her admitting she loved something, but Dr. Matthews’ ultimate goal was to hear Adrena admit to loving Adrena someone . . . just once.

Publishers Weekly
Connor's debut novel is a deft psychological thriller about a teenage African American, Adrena Reynolds, an emotionally fragile survivor of a childhood rape perpetrated by her drug-addled parents. Once institutionalized, Adrena is now slowly being coaxed back into society by her psychologist, Vivian Matthews. Yet Matthews's own relationships are far from perfect, and her bond with Adrena is perhaps too close: she treats Adrena more like a member of her family than like a patient. When Matthews marries, Adrena's rage toward men surfaces, threatening to destroy not only her mental health and social reintegration but also her psychologist's practice and newlywed life. There are uneven patches here, many of which are due to Connor's tendency to draw conclusions for the reader instead of letting them emerge from the story. But many scenes?as when Adrena sees a kiss-mark on her shrink and mistakes it for a sign of domestic battery?are touchingly rendered, and the book is alive with the intensity with which Connor imagines Adrena transcending the cold, haunting hatred that dominated her early life.
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Yasmin Coleman - APOOO
Damaged by Bernadette Connor was required reading for a book club; due to the subject matter, Damaged was not a book I would have picked up on my own...Afterall I thought how could someone take such a sensitive, depressing social issue and write it in a fictional manner and still keep the reader interested? To my chagrin, Damaged was far from predictable or mundane. I became so engrossed in this spellbinding, psychological thriller that I couldn't do anything else until I finished the book; I read this book in one setting because of the suspenseful subplots and the plot twisters. The writing was so vivid and lurid that you actually felt as thought you were right there with the characters.

Bernadette Connor's debut novel, Damaged, a page turner from Chapter One, does not allow the reader to retreat or escape from the disturbing topic of child abuse. With its backdrop of drug abuse, surrogate families, prescribed medications, unexpected happenings, Connor's dives head first into the heinous social issues involving the well-being of our children.

Connor's novel pulls the reader into the fragile and scarred existence of Adrena, who was horrifically abused at the age of 10. Per the review from the back cover "Adrena Reynolds is the teen-age survivor of years of child abuse, culminating in a brutal rape that leaves her filled ................."

Damaged was well-written, with a solid storyline and subplots/plot twisters that test a gamut of emotions and leaves remarkable memories. Connor leaves the reader to ponder if Adrena's demons will ultimately destroy her.

"Damaged was a riveting tale of love and hate, tragedy and hope".

Shunda Blocker - Book Matters Magazine
This book was recommended to me by a member of my book club (COF II). She spoke so highly of the book & even shared with me that she had burnt some night oil finishing it. Her enthusiam about the book caused me to call around town trying to find the book. I finally ended up ordering the book & begin reading it a few days ago. I finished the book on last evening. I can only tell others that once you start reading this book, you will NOT be able to put it down. What an excellent book that is well written (no errors or typos) and the language is very understandable. I don't want to spoil the story for those who will read it, but the ending was a bit sad! I couldn't stop the tears from flowing because I could literally feel Adrena's pain. Hats off to Ms. Connor and I want to say to her that she has a fan for life in Georgia! This is an excellent book! that addresses abuse in one of it's worst forms (incest). The author did a superb job!...