“I’m going to loosen the rope around your wrists and ankles. I’m pleased with you, Isabelle. You are learning,” he says slowly, nodding his head. He leans over me, tugging on the ropes until my hand falls down on the bed beside my head on the pillow.
I let out a groan of appreciation. “It feels so good to finally be free of those binds.” I say with a smile. I try to make it look genuine, but all its covering is the grimace I feel beneath the surface. Two long days I’ve been strapped to that bed. My legs spread open and free for him to do as he pleases. And that’s exactly what he did. He touched me, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. My whole body aches so painfully that I could cry. I force back the tears that want to break through. I won’t let them.
Anger bubbles at the thought of what he’s done to me, at what he might make me do next. But I have to play the game. I must try to outsmart this asshole if I have any chance of survival. I’m too young to die. I held on for six years as my own father held me captive. Then when I finally found my freedom—on my way back to reclaiming my life—I made the biggest mistake of my life.
Getting in his car.
He appeared so normal. So kind, offering to take me home. Only, I never made it home. Instead, he brought me here.
I stepped from the clutches of one crazy man to an evil one.
“Take this,” he offers, his tone light and cheerful. I smile again, taking the white robe from him and wrapping it around my naked body. “I’m glad we finally reached an understanding.”
“Me too.”
“You will obey me, Isabelle. You will act as though you are here of your own free will.” He starts to trace his finger down the side of my face before grasping my chin, turning my face until it meets his. “You will be mine. Your mind, body and soul all belong to me. See, I’m a dangerous man. And yes, I could have any woman I want. But you, well, you’re going to be such a good little plaything. Understand?”
“Of course,” I say, leaning in and pressing my lips against his, hoping this is how he wants me to act.
“Don’t,” he roars, his hand landing heavily around my throat. He pushes me back on the bed, his grip tightening so much I’m struggling to breathe. I place my hand over his, trying to get him to loosen his grip.
But it’s no use.
My chest heaves, his face touching mine. “I say when. I say how. Don’t you ever try to touch me again without permission.”
He releases the hold, shaking his hands out, and I place mine where his were while I cough and struggle to inhale. I scramble backwards, my head resting on the headboard.
“I’m so sorry,” I choke out. “I was out of line.”
“As long as we have the record straight, that’s the main thing,” he snarls, pushing up his tie, straightening it. It was the one thing I noticed about him, he was always so immaculately dressed. Always wearing a dark suit teamed with a light blue tie. Each tie was slightly different, but all a similar shade. I wonder to myself what he must do to have such a huge house.
A sharp pain tugs at my stomach, the hunger rearing its ugly head again. It’s been days. I’ve lost count of how many exactly, but my body is exhausted. I walked for miles before he finally stopped, offering me a ride home.
I was stupid. So fucking stupid.
“What should I call you?” I ask in a sweet voice, hoping to find out the name of my abductor.
“You call me Sir. Always. No exceptions.”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply, hoping to appease him.
“I have a very important meeting in a few days. I expect you to behave appropriately and never leave my side. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“So, you have much to prove to me, Isabelle, over the next few days.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Do not let me down. The consequences will be far worse than anything I have inflicted on you before.”
I swallow down hard, and I recognize a threat when I hear one.
“No problem, Sir.”
“Come. Follow me,” he instructs standing from the bed.
“Is there any way I could possibly shower first?”
He stops dead in his tracks, his hands inside his smart pants. He turns smoothly on the spot, stepping one slow step at a time until he’s standing over me again.
“I really thought we were making progress, my Isabelle. But clearly I was misled in that belief.” He lifts his hand above his head, striking me across the face with the back of his hand. The contact stings like a bitch and I fall back against the bed with the contact.
“I’m not the girl you want. Please, just let me go. Let me go home to my mom. Six years I’ve been missing. She’ll be wondering where I am. This was supposed to be my chance to finally rebuild my life.”
“And you will. Here with me. You belong to me and you will surrender. You just have more to learn. So much more.”
I shiver intensely, the fear wracking though my whole body. I feel the bed dip as he climbs on top of me, pulling open my robe and dipping his head, taking my hardened nipple into his mouth. He nips at my hardened bud, the feeling is pleasurable, but borderlines pain. I don’t want this. I don’t want to feel turned on by him. But I do.
“Mine.” He mumbles and the words hit me in the stomach like a ton of bricks. I want to yell, I want to scream out that I’m not his. Not now. Not ever. I clamp my eyes shut, trying desperately to block out the sensation. “You will stay with me. This is a new beginning for you. A new life. If you disobey me or betray me,” he mumbles as he continues to suck and flick my nipple, “then I will kill you. In a slow, painful death.”
I shudder intensely as his words resonate with me.
“You will come to love our encounters. You will be begging for me to touch you, to make you come over and over again,” he says, roughly grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head with one of his hands.
I lie on the bed, almost giving into him. I don’t have the strength to fight. Even if I did, it would just make things worse.
“Stay still. Do not move,” He commands, stepping back from the bed. He slides off his suit jacket and starts to unbutton his shirt. “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says, almost sweetly as he continues to undress. “Now we have you under control, I’m going to worship your body, my body.” He corrects himself. “because you belong to me now, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” I say through my shivers and hard swallowing. I can’t keep up with his ever-changing personality. It’s starting to give me whiplash.
“I was your first, and I know that means I will always be special to you, my Isabelle.”
His words cause the bile to rise in my throat. This monster is never going to let me go.
I take him in as he stands in front of me almost naked. He’s quite athletic looking with his broad shoulders and sculptured torso. His well-toned body is covered in tattoos.
“You really are very beautiful. I’ve never seen anyone quite like you before. So perfect, so pure, so natural.”
I nod, sinking back into the mattress, my body trying to put some distance between us. I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t want him to hurt me again.
“I’m scared,” I whisper, hoping to plead with him. My body shakes uncontrollably, my teeth chattering together.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t fight this. You will enjoy what I’m about to do to you.”
“I’m so sore. I hurt so much,” I say trying to fight back a sob that rises.
“The pleasure will erase the pain. Let me take the pain away, Isabelle,” he says, trying to soothe me.
I stare up at the figure of evil and nod. Not because I want this, but because I don’t want him to hurt me.
“Tell me,” he yells, causing me to jump at the volume of his voice. “Tell me how much you want me.”
The sting of swelling tears causes my lip to quiver. “I really want you,” I choke out, forcing it so much that the words rattle in my throat. The lie stings my heavy heart; a heart that I feel is dying, fading away with all the happy memories.
When we were younger, I thought the three of us were invincible, that we would never be separated. Until that day my father came for me. The day he told me all about the revenge he planned. All because he wanted my mom to suffer just like he had. Dad could never accept that Mom had found someone new, someone she’d had an affair with for years. The lies and deceit drove him crazy, and he took the one thing that meant something to her.
Me.
He made me call her that day. He held a knife to my throat and told me I had to convince her that I left with free will. I was too scared to fight him. I did what he said. I lied to her on the phone, the sound of her words still play over and over in my mind. The guilt of knowing how worried she would be whether or not she had drunk herself into oblivion, weighed heavy on my heart.
The grip around my jaw snaps me from my train wreck of thoughts. “Look at me when you say it. Look into my eyes with desire,” he growls. I allow my eyes to connect with his. As I stare into them deeply, I no longer see his dark, hazel eyes. Instead I replace them with the bright green eyes of the only boy I’d ever wanted to touch me. The one boy I’d promised to save myself for.
Braxton.
So, I do as he says. I look into his eyes, imagining he is Brax and give him what he wants. The ultimate look of desire.
“Oh, my Isabelle. I knew you’d been fighting your true feelings for me.” He caresses his hand down the side of my face, his hand moving away my hair, giving him clear access to my neck. I turn my head away, allowing him greater access. Not because I want this, but because I can no longer look at his face. I close my eyes; his rough skin feels harsh against mine. My broken heart pounds with ferocity, and I try to clear my mind of everything he’s doing to me. With every touch, he takes a little piece of me, until I’m no longer sure who I really am anymore. I’ve been so controlled, so isolated for so long, I’m not even sure I know who I am. And lying here, not fighting this monster doesn’t seem like the kind of thing the old Isabelle would do. But I have to do what it takes to survive, to get out of here alive.
* * *
I roll up the twenty dollar bill; place it against my left nostril and inhale the white substance until I feel the familiar burning sensation in my nostril. I drop back into my seat waiting for the rush to kick in. My heart pounds at an accelerated rate and I instantly feel more alert and awake. A feeling I’ve only ever felt when doing coke since I lost her. Since I lost them both.
“Hey, you,” Jessica beams at me. I look at her through my euphoric haze and can’t help but pull her on my lap. She lets out a little yelp, but straddles me nonetheless. Her hands run through my messy, dark-brown hair, her eyes fixed on mine.
“I heard you met the beautiful Tara again,” she all but hums, my hands caressing her ass. She leans in closer, her huge fucking tits almost in line with my mouth. The room we are in is buzzing and full of people high on the product of our forthcoming deal. I can’t help but hook my finger inside of her bra, releasing just enough of her nipple to lick and tease. I take her in my mouth, my eyes fixed on hers. I lick and tease her, watching as her face shows how excited she is, how turned on I’m making her feel.
“I did meet Tara,” I breathe out, a grin pulling at the corner of my mouth.
“So, you like her?” she asks, grinding her pussy against my straining erection.
“Of course. She’s beautiful, even if she’s off limits.”
“Off limits?” she questions with a tilt of her head. “Why would she be off limits? I’ve heard she really digs you,” her hand trails down my toned torso until she finds the band of my jeans.
“She’s Carter’s cousin. That says off limits to me.”
“But Carter brought her here for you. This was all his idea. His way of trying to make you happy, I guess.”
I place a heavy hand on each of her arms, pushing her back a little. She pulls up her top, covering her exposed breast.
“I don’t need no fucking blind dates, or motherfucking relationships for that matter.” My words are forced out with a growl and I knock her off my lap and stand up from the couch. I hunch over using the twenty to take in another line. I turn to see Jessica picking herself up from the floor. I wrap my hand around her tiny arm, dragging her up from the floor.
“Ouch, Brax, you’re hurting me.”
Loosening my grip a little, I continue to pull her behind me, ignoring the shit flying from her mouth. There is only one thing I need right now, and it doesn’t involve talking. I walk up the steep staircase, making my way toward the abundance of bedrooms. I try the first door, but it’s locked from the inside. I storm forward to the next door, trying the handle. This one flies open and I pull Jessica in behind me. I don’t look for the light switch, I just thrust her in the direction of the bed, her yelping only turns me on more. I reach for the neck of my shirt, pulling it over my head.
“What the fuck?” I murmur, the sound of an unfamiliar female voice catches my attention. A small light on the nightstand is flipped on, the young girl brushing the hair from her face. I study her for a second, suddenly realizing its Tara. “Why the fuck are you in here?”
“Well, I’m in a bed. Alone. So, I guess the presumption would be that I was napping.” She replies, her tone snarky and sarcastic.
“I don’t know if you remember, but the party is downstairs, and it’s still early.”
“I didn’t feel too good,” she replies, throwing back the bedsheet, stepping up from the bed, slowly making her way over to me, her eyes flashing between Jess and me. Making her way past, she trails her finger across my abdomen, pausing when she reaches the door. Flicking the lock, she rests her back against the door.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get out,” I shout over my shoulder as I make my way over to Jess, knocking her until she falls back onto the bed.
“I’m just going to stick around and watch if it’s all the same. After all, you walked into a room where I was napping!”
I stand at the end of the bed, watching as she twirls a few strands of hair around her finger. I keep my gaze fixed on her as I unbutton my jeans before pushing them down, taking my underwear with them. My cock springs free, her mouth falling open a little as she takes in my size. I grab a hold of my cock and fist it in front of her, Jessica’s hands land on my neck, soft kisses run across the planes of my muscular back.
“Like what you see?” I ask as she continues to gawk at me. “Either you get out, or you join in, it’s your choice. But, watching is not an option.”
She gives me a light nod, stepping closer before dropping down onto her knees right in front of me. “Let me take care of this,” she says, removing my hand and replacing it with hers. She cups my balls, pulling and teasing my cock before wrapping her thick lips around the tip. I almost growl with excitement, the feeling overwhelming. Jessica kisses my neck, stepping slowly from the bed right behind me. I glance up at her and watch her walk behind Tara who continues to deepen the penetration, Jessica’s hand trailing down Tara’s back. I rest my hands back on the bed, leaning back and arching myself a little from the bed. The sensation is almost too much to take. It’s been too long. Too fucking long.
I let my eyes flicker open momentarily to see Jessica licking and teasing Tara. Her head is between her naked legs, the groans and moans intensifying. I suck in a surprised breath as I watch the girls on the floor in front of me. I feel my dick swell and begin to pulsate, Tara’s intense stare on me once again. My brain is cloudy with lust and desire, the perfect distraction from my usual torrent of painful memories.
Tara clutches my thighs and I thrust upwards, desperate to find my release. My breathing picks up pace and almost becomes a pant as I work furiously, clutching the back of her hair. She writhes as she is worked by Jessica, her gargled moans escape as she deep throats my already swollen cock.
The sensation hits me like a motherfucking tidal wave. I feel the ragged pulsation work through my cock as heat spreads inside of me. I jerk a little and watch as she swallows hard; taking everything I have to give. I fall back heavily onto the bed, my chest heaving and my heart pounding. I hear the girls giggle and laugh, but I’m too wasted to care.
“Baby, come on. We need you,” Jessica purrs. I push myself up, the pair touching each other, eyes on me.
“Looks like you are doing fine by yourselves,” I dismiss with a lift of my brow, standing from the bed and pulling up my jeans.
“What, you’re leaving already?” Tara asks, her hand stroking my thigh, before she clutches at the band of my jeans.
“Get the fuck off me.” A growl rumbles in my chest, my hand heavy on her shoulder as I push her away.
“No, you don’t mean that. We are about to have fun, baby, you really should stay.” Tara tries again to tug on my jeans, Jessica suddenly standing in front of the door, blocking my exit.
“Get out of my fucking way, you stupid whore,” I demand, my tone low and menacing. I storm towards the door, effortlessly moving Jess out of the way. I have to get out of here. I’m on a major comedown and I know that being alone is the only way I can get through this.
My feet thud against each step as I make my way down the stairs. The repetitive bang of the music makes me contort my face. When I finally make it outside, I stop for a second, my hands resting on my bended knee as I try to breathe. I try to focus on something, anything, as my eyes glance down at the ground. But I can’t. I can’t focus and everything is a blur.
“Hey, man, what’s wrong?” I hear the familiar voice and a firm hand resting on my back.
“I gotta get out of here,” I return to standing, looking at him over my shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Brax? Talk to me.” Carter takes my arm, leading me away from the entrance.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want to be here anymore.” I dig in my pocket, searching for my keys.
“You can’t drive, man, you’ve had way too much to drink.”
“It’s never fucking stopped me before,” I retort, yanking the keys out of my pocket and walking over to my bike.
“You’re gonna get yourself fucking killed.” He yells after me, and I can’t help but stop dead in my tracks.
“You know what, Carter? Maybe I will and maybe that is exactly what should have happened years ago when everything fucking crumbled around me. Maybe that fucker should have killed me instead of Trav. It should have been me.”
“There’s a fucking reason it wasn’t you.”
“What?” I scream, “What could that fucking be?”
“You were meant for bigger and better things. Look at us, Brax,” he pulls on my arm, spinning me until I’m facing him. “Look at who we are, at what we have achieved.”
I laugh a little. Then some more until I’m practically hysterical.
“What? What the fuck is so funny?” he roars, the veins in his neck straining as his temper flares.
“Look at us,” I hold out my arms, scanning the area around us. “We are fucking criminals. Nothing more, nothing less.”
The connection of his fist to my chin knocks me flying to the floor. His foot lands heavily on my neck, his black boots pressing so hard I can feel myself struggle as I try to breathe. “I’m Carter fucking Mellano and don’t you ever forget it.” His tone lets me know his warning is real and as I grapple with his foot, I manage to roll, breaking free from his hold. I snap my head in his direction only to be met with the end of his pistol.
“I’ve been good to you, Brax. Real fucking good,” he drawls, “but don’t ever mock my business, my life or who I fucking am.”
The gun in his hand shakes a little and I slowly push myself up from the floor, brushing down the front of my jeans.
“I’m being serious, cocksucker,” he seethes, annoyed by my lack of reaction. Carter is a hot head, but he would never shoot me. Not over something like this. He’s just trying to remind me who is in charge. “You may just think I’m a criminal, but I’m a fucking good one, and this life makes me more money than most millionaire businessmen,” he continues as I stand before him crossing my arms. I hold them there tightly, lifting and dropping my shoulders.
“What?” he roars. “What has gotten into you?”
“Listen,” I reply in a calm voice, stepping forward until the gun is practically touching my forehead. “If you want to shoot me, if you really want to bury that goddamn bullet in my brain, then just do it.”
He jolts the gun forward causing me to stumble back.
“Do it. Put me out of my misery. Maybe you shouldn’t have saved me that day…”
“Why the fuck would you say that?” He glares at me, like I’ve just punched him in the gut.
“Because every day is torture. Torture of the worst kind. Everything that meant something is lost and I’m stumbling from one day to the fucking next, with no reason for fucking living. So yeah, do me a favor…”
“Oh well, you are really feeling fucking sorry for yourself, aren’t you? Do you know what a fucking pussy you sound like? Time to man up, Brax. Man up and get your fucking shit together. I’m done fucking babysitting you.”
“Fuck you,” I spit back, stepping away and mounting my motorcycle. I push the key in the ignition, starting the engine and revving it aggressively. My tires screech making friction against the driveway. I drive fast. Way too fast.
It doesn’t take long before I’m home. Not the home where I live, but the home where my heart belongs. I kick out the stand and jump down from the bike. Slowly, I make my way through the overgrown grass; the smell of summer fills my nostrils. I stare down at my feet; an eerie silence fills the air.
I’ve walked this way a million times. I even know how many steps it takes from the road until I get to the tree.
Our tree.
Sixty-six steps is all it takes.
As soon as I reach the oak tree, I collapse onto my knees. The pain rips through me like a motherfucking tornado. You know that old saying, ‘time is a healer’? Well, it’s complete bullshit. No amount of time has helped heal the wounds left by the two people in my life that actually meant something to me. No amount of time can erase the memories of what happened to Travis that day.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, placing my hand against the trunk of the tree. I graze my hand over the numerous carvings; the ones all three of us made over the years we spent together. I drop my head forward, resting it against the tree. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them, Trav. I’m sorry that my stupid fucking idea got you killed.” I fight back the anger, allowing a small tear to trickle down my scarred cheek.
The scar that reminds me every day of what I’ve lost. A scar that I got the day I lost both of my best friends.
* * *
Jolting upright, I open my eyes, frantically scanning my surroundings. My hand automatically reaches for the band of my jeans, resting on the handle of my gun.
“Brax, it’s me,” she holds up her hands in the air in a mock surrender, taking a wary step backward.
“Lynette,” I gasp, rubbing my eyes as I try to rush to my feet. The daylight has faded, but there is just enough light for me to make out her face.
“I saw your bike on the road and guessed you’d be here. Why don’t you come with me? I can make you a bite to eat. You shouldn’t be out here on your own.”
“I never knew you cared so much.” My reply has a nasty bite and I push myself up from the ground, brushing off the loose bits of grass and walking straight past the one woman who should have fought for the girl I love. The one woman who let her own daughter down. I could never forgive her for that. I can’t just forget that she didn’t fight to find her.
“Braxton, wait,” she yells after me and my feet stop moving, grounding me to a halt. I don’t look at her though. I focus on the ground, avoiding the eyes of the one woman who could have changed this.
“I miss her just as much as you do. I spend hours out here looking at this stupid tree and the carvings you guys did, and every time I see them it breaks my heart.” I can hear her heavy breaths and I lift my head to meet her eyes.
“Don’t play the fucking sympathy card with me. If it was up to me, I would have buried a fucking bullet deep in that heart of stone years ago.”
“Why?” She snivels. “I lost my only daughter… this isn’t my fault. You can’t blame me for her leaving to live with her father.”
“You still fucking believe that bullshit story?” I seethe. “We both know that’s not what happened, and we both know you did absolutely nothing to find her.”
“She is with her father,” she screams, saliva flying from her mouth.
“Where, Lynette? Where exactly is that?” I ask, tilting my head and crossing my arms.
“I, uh, I don’t know,” she stutters nervously.
“So,” I narrow my brows as I glare at her with every ounce of anger I feel bubbling at the surface. “She is with her father, but you, mother of the century, have no idea where that is?”
“Don’t you dare,” she replies, her voice wavering and her shaky index finger pointing at me. “I never said I was the greatest mom, but it’s the truth when I say I miss my daughter.”
“Do you know what?” I scoff, “I really don’t give a fucking shit about your motherfucking excuses.”
Turning on the spot, I start making my way across the field, my feet pounding against the ground as I try to release the rage I feel in the pit of my stomach.
“Did she write to you?” she yells after me, the sound of her footsteps increase behind me. I take a huge breath, and whip my head around to face her.
“What the fuck do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I say,” she replies, a small grin twitching at the corner of her mouth. I study her expression for a second, realizing that the bitch is getting some sort of sick kick out of this.
“You better start talking, Lynette. I’m not fucking joking,” I race toward her and she cowers, holding her arms as she tries to shelter her face. I grab each of her wrists, revealing the face she’s trying to hide.
“Fucking tell me,” I scream in her face.
“She, uh, she sent me birthday cards and Christmas cards. Every year without fail,” her voice almost trails off, her face is contorted as she fearfully waits for my reaction.
“What?” I try to speak but the word comes out as a whisper. “You mean she’s been in touch? She actually wrote to you?” My words roll out incredulously as I try to come to grips with the meaning of what her mother just told me. “This means she’s alive,” I almost gasp, as thoughts race through my mind. Is she telling the truth? And if she is, are the cards really from Izzy?
“Show me,” I demand. “I won’t believe this is true until I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.” I nod in the direction of her house and race to get on my bike.
“You go, I’ll wait for you at the house,” I say as I start the engine before revving it noisily. She covers her ears with her hands, racing through the field taking the shortcut to her house. I ride the short distance to the house, parking on the gravel drive out front. I look around at the overgrown grass and weeds that now make this once beautiful house look dilapidated. The whitewash front has weathered and I shake my head as I dismount the parked bike and head to the front veranda. I sit on the steps, staring into the distance as I wait for Lynette to turn up. I tap my leg nervously, a mix of emotions race through me, causing my heart to pound like mad. If what she says is right, and she has in fact received cards from her, then why the hell did she never send me anything? But on the flip side, if she has really sent them, that means she’s alive.
Alive, but moved on.
Without a thought for me.
What if I didn’t mean anything to her after all?
The pounding of my heart becomes deafening. It sounds like a thousand horses galloping and I don’t know how to fucking calm it. I feel the sudden buzz of my cell phone against my leg. I rush to pull the phone from my pocket. I see Carter’s name on the screen.
“What’s up?” I mumble down the receiver.
“Have you checked your calls recently?” he snaps and I move the phone from my ear and see a ton of missed calls and messages.
“Uh, yeah, I see them now. What’s up?”
“Where the fuck have you been, Brax?” His voice is filled with annoyance and I let out a heavy breath.
“I fell asleep. Under the tree. Lynette woke me. She has a little revelation and I’m just waiting for her to come good,” I inform him.
“Well, right now, you’re gonna want to hear what I got to tell you,” he says and by the sound of his voice I can tell he’s smiling down the phone.
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you like this, but come back to the house and I’ll fill you in.”
“Is this just a ploy to get me back to the party? Just how fucking wasted are you?” I grumble.
“I’m deadly fucking serious man. I need you back here and fucking fast. It has something to do with Isabelle, that’s all I’m saying for now…”
“Isabelle…” I let my words trail off, my ears ring with the sound of the dead tone. “Fuck,” I growl, shoving my phone back in my pocket and taking out a cigarette. I light it for the desperate hit of nicotine. The pain and confusion is brewing and festering deep within the depths of my dark soul. I need an outlet for my pain and confusion. I need to fucking do something. I rest my head back, taking another huge drag of the cigarette. I feel the heat as I draw the smoke into my lungs and the haze as the nicotine provides a much-needed hit.
A few short seconds later, Lynette appears in front of me, holding her key in her hand. “Come in,” she says with a nod of her head.
“I’ll stay here, if it’s okay with you.”
She loosely shrugs her shoulder, opening the door and flicking on the light. I turn, watching her walk off into the house, only to reappear a few moments later. She holds a tin in her arms like she’s holding a baby.
“Here. Take a look,” she says handing the tin to me. I slowly take it from her, my hands shaking as I remove the lid and set it down beside me. True to her word, the tin is full of cards. I take out the top one, a shudder racking through me as I rub my thumb across the front of the embossed card. I open the card, the words, “Happy birthday Mom” are on the front.
My eyes slowly read the handwritten words. I focus on them, and my heart rate tells me this is her handwriting. This is from Izzy.
“I’d recognize that writing anywhere,” I murmur, placing it back in the tin and picking out another. I look at them all. Each one has the same writing and says the exact same thing.
To, Mom,
Love, Isabelle.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Is this it?” I ask as I look between Lynette, who is standing resting against the wall, and the cards in my hand.
She shakes her head from side to side. “I don’t follow.”
“These,” I shout a little more than intended. “Is this all there is? No letters or anything.”
“No, nothing,” she replies warily.
“They all say the same thing. No messages, no information about how she is or what she’s been doing.” I start to pace back and forth, scraping my hand through my hair.
“They are cards, Brax, just cards.” She reaches her arms out, snatching the tin from my grasp.
“You didn’t think it was strange that she wrote the exact same thing in every single card?” I glare at her, a look of confusion etched across her face. “You didn’t expect a little more?”
“Well, uh, kind of,” she mumbles. “I guess I was just so happy to get something from her that the message inside didn’t really matter that much to me.”
“Didn’t really matter that much?” I repeat, glaring at her intensely.
“Well, no,” she says nonchalantly, her shoulders rise and fall lightly.
“You are un-fucking-believable, do you know that?”
“What, Braxton? What was it you expected? Some note telling me how much she loved the biggest loser in town? Huh?”
“Screw you, bitch,” I spit venomously. “Maybe if you actually cared a little more about your daughter, rather than drinking yourself into oblivion, none of this would have happened. But, no! You were too busy being drunk and getting screwed by the next guy you could find to even give a shit about her.”
“Don’t you dare…” she warns, but I quickly turn my back on her and skip down the stairs.
“I don’t have time for this bullshit,” I grumble, throwing my leg over my bike and starting the engine. Something tells me I have more important shit to deal with right now.