CAITLIN

“Beer?” Rachel asks extending her hand.

“Hell, yes.” I grab it from her, not hesitating to take my one and only swig of the cold brew. I’ve refined the act of nursing a beer through these parties. It’s more of the atmosphere and hanging out with friends that I actually enjoy. It’s the only time I get to be me.

“I still can’t believe you got out of the house tonight.”

I shrug, half shocked myself. My friends have been partying since our eighth-grade year. Key words my friends, not my parent-approved friends. No, those friends are more than likely at the stuffy country club tonight.

“My mom covered for me. Told my dad I was sick.”

Rachel smiles and then begins leading me through the crowd. The loud, thumping music empowers me. I tend to hang out with older classmates, and since my last name is Winslow, they don’t bat an eyelash at the fact I just turned fourteen. It’s my rebellious side flaring out in me. My dad tells me it’s the white trash of my mom’s side tainting my soul. I’ll never know how one man can be so cruel yet know when to say all the right words just when a person needs them. Must be the lawyer in him, I suppose.

I sit on a large log next to Rachel, with the bonfire glowing brightly, sending off ample waves of heat in our direction. The laughter is infectious as a boy from the public school entertains the crowd. Jagger, I think his name is, and my, oh, my is he a looker and quite the charmer. Nothing like the stuffy and arrogant boys at my school who believe they’re entitled to everything.

“Parent!” someone yells over the crowd.

All heads turn to the warning call. That’s when I see the shiny leather shoes walk up to me. His suit and tie are out of place like a glaring red flag.

“Caitlin.” His voice drips with venom.

“Dad,” I whisper, not making eye contact, knowing that his features will be stone-cold.

“Time to go.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, but instead pulls me up by the neck of my shirt, dragging me to the car. My body trembles in fear. He’s never hit me or inflicted physical pain. No, it’s his words that slice me open. He’s a professional at tearing down a person with his words alone. I’ve watched him take down powerful men with his intimidation tactics and words.

The door slams on his Mercedes Benz, leaving me alone in the backseat. I steady myself for the brutal berating that’s about to ensue. My mom reassures me it’s just the way he ticks and that under all his layers is the man she fell in love with. I’ve never met that man.

He settles behind the wheel, firing up the engine and then adjusting the rearview mirror to stare me down. He maneuvers the road with ease while directing vicious stares back in my direction.

“There was a wreck tonight, Caitlin.” He pauses for a brief moment. “Your mother is dead.”

“What?” I gasp, then steady my palms on the cool leather of the seat. I open my mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out. No.

“She went out to find you, lost control of her car, and crashed over the side of the canyon cliff.” He glares once again in my direction.

“Dad, she knew where I was,” I whisper.

He shakes his head in disgust. “That lying bitch. I figured as much. She could never give up on raising you in the same way she was. Completely poor and white trash, always lying and sneaking around. My dad warned me that I’d never be able to tame the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. I should’ve listened.”

“Dad.” His name escapes my lips as I fight to process what in the hell has just happened. It’s not his cold voice or slicing words, but the fact my mother is dead. She was my person, my everything, the loving force that held me together.

“I refuse to allow you to follow her path.” He slams the steering wheel. “If you’d only been where you should’ve been, then she wouldn’t be dead. You killed her, Caitlin.”

My vision blurs, my soul dies, and my heart cracks into irreparable pieces, and in this moment, the new Caitlin Winslow is introduced to the world.

That night in my bedroom was the loneliest of my life. All of my things had been rearranged. My father told me I’d no longer live like a slob. The dresser had been moved, the desk wiped clear of all my belongings, and barely a trace of anything I used to be was left.

No more…

Dance lessons

Carefree life

Aspiring dreams of Broadway

It was all buried with my mother’s lifeless body, only if there had been a body. There were no remains; just like my old life.