I’ve ridden over on one of Boxer’s Harleys and parked around the side of William’s house. This is the first time I’ve been back to it since I fled. Lincoln and I have driven past, but never to it. It was liberating riding down the avenue of oak trees toward the plantation home without having to feel afraid of anybody. I’m not scared, because there’s no longer a reason to be frightened. Boxer and Miss C have shown me that.
I’m legally the owner, for a short time anyway. It gives me no joy. I’m not the rightful owner. I’m totally dumbfounded as to why William would have my name written into his will, much less leaving me the majority. It simply doesn’t make sense. I honestly didn’t believe I would outlive him and ever be free of him, so this simply floors me.
I climb the front steps, taking my helmet off and hooking it through with my arm. I take the key out of my pocket and turn the lock. The snick of it unlocking sounds deafening out here, where I’m so isolated, but I feel empowered by being able to enter through the front door.
The door sticks, so I give it a shove with my shoulder and stumble a little over the threshold. The first thing I notice is how musty the house smells.
I try the light switch, but the power has been shut off, so I’m glad I came prepared just in case. I take the flashlight I brought along out of my leather jacket pocket I have on over my hoodie and click it on.
I’m confronted with the staircase that holds a lot of the answers to the questions buzzing around in my mind. My memories start to assault my mind, starting with William lying dead at the bottom. I gasp out loud because I can see him like a hologram, face down before me. I have to shut these thoughts down, now, because I don’t need to be standing here in a dark house by myself with my little boxes popping open on me one-by-one. I shut my eyes tight and will them to stay closed so I can get down to business.
Once I have a hold of myself, I open them again and William is gone. The light beam hits the walls, which hold so many of my secrets, that I’m sure if you listened hard enough you could hear them whispering about me.
When I get back to the bar tonight, I’ll go to the safe and find out what happened to me against that staircase. I knew a reason would come up to make me have to watch them, eventually. Then I will know everything. I’m strong enough to deal with what I see on that hard drive.
I simply have to be.
All I can now see before me is a lonely, old, dusty house. William would not be pleased to know his home was not clean and sparkling.
I know Boxer kept an eye out on this place and an ear to the ground. As far as Boxer knew, nobody had come back to the house to claim it. The son had probably only just discovered his father had died.
I’m happier trusting Boxer had everything taken care of, but there’s no way he could’ve possibly known my name would come up on the will. I wonder if he even knows about a will. If he does, why didn’t he let me know? All I understood was that he’d checked all the records and I was safe from being discovered. I can’t help the questions that are banging away in my head, because none of this makes sense.
But here I stand under threat of being discovered by the son who could quite possibly challenge the will. This is why it is important I set the key and my letter down. It is my way of cleansing my hands of it all. I know it is still on paper, but I need to show that I’m happy to walk away with this small gesture.
Why hadn’t he visited in all these years, or he had, but I’d been drugged up and put into hiding? I’m going to go crazy if I don’t stop doing this to myself.
I wanted to call Boxer, but it can wait until I get back to the bar tonight. He’s done so much for me already. I’m giving the key back, which is a load off my mind already. It’s been eight months since William died, and I haven’t been discovered. That lawyer creeped me out, but there is no way he could have known everything about me.
Could he?
Am I being too gullible?
The will had my surname on it, the new one Boxer set up for me, and that is lurking in my thoughts like a dangerous plot twist. It’s worrying my mind endlessly. Somebody knows about my new identity. The pieces don’t add up, but there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment.
The more I think about it, the more it all disturbs me. I’m hoping it’s just a lawyer doing his job, making the appropriate changes to the document once he found me. Not that I know anything about wills. I’ve let Boxer do everything, when I should have asked more questions. How did the lawyer even find me?
Ignorance was bliss for me, because it was easier for me to try to forget, knowing somebody else was dealing with my troubles.
Ughh. I need Boxer.
I’ll definitely call him when I get back to the bar. I won’t be able to sleep until I know he’s been told.
The other thing preying on my mind is what went down with Edge tonight. The opportunity crossed my path, and I just wanted to forget my worries, have a good time, and I did. My body’s still humming from what that man had done to me. I don’t regret what happened. He made me feel so good; it’s hard to put into words what was going through my head when I was on his bike and he was inside me.
Edge made me feel alive in a sexual way I’ve never wanted to feel before. He unlocked something inside me that can’t be taken back. With him, it felt right. It was amazingly hot, and I will probably never get that ever again, so I’m not sorry I did it.
I felt so fucking sexy on that bike. I did something tonight that made me feel good and I was in control. He didn’t pressure me. I had choices. But he’s now long gone. It was exactly what it was and nothing more.
Sara. Got. Laid.
I. Got. Laid.
I can’t help the knowing smile from settling on my face until I remember why I’m here. Now is not the time to relive what was done to me tonight. I don’t venture any farther into the house than I need to because this is not my home.
My phone beeps, startling me. I’ve got one missed call from Boxer, and he’s just left a text message asking where I am. I’ll reply once I’ve finished up here. We have a level of trust, and I won’t lie to him. I can’t tell him I’m here because he would worry. I’ll be back at the bar in half an hour, and then I can be truthful.
I place the letter on the dining table and put the house key next to it. I hope my letter apologizes enough for my name being placed on the will, and I explain that I will be turning everything in my name over to the son.
I’m anticipating Boxer can sort this all out for me and help me contact that horrible lawyer so it can all be fixed when he gets back in a few days, and then that sleaze of a man can let the son know where to find the key.
The document I’ve received has the potential to threaten the story we have spun for the townsfolk. It threatens the secrets I want kept boxed up. I want this misunderstanding cleared up, so all will be good in my world.
There’s only one thing I want to do before I leave. I want to go and look at the garden patch because it used to be a little sanctuary for me.
The temperature has dropped, so I pull my hoodie up over my head as I head on down to my bike, placing my keys and phone inside my helmet, hooking it over my handle bar before I wander down to my little garden.
The way is lit by the full moon gracing the black sky. I don’t need my flashlight on, so I click it off. I can see the silhouette of my much loved garden patch is dried up and withered from being unattended. I love watching something grow from a seed. I enjoyed tending to all the vegetables. It makes me sad to see it like this. We relied on each other for survival. I can tell nobody has been here, probably since his death, or the garden would be healthy.
I reach out and touch a crumbled leaf, which turns to powder under my fingers. I feel like I have let it down, left it to wither and die alone, while I thrived under the care of Boxer and Miss C. It’s strange the things you hold close to your heart when there’s nothing else to hold onto.
My eyes wander over to the old wooden slave cabin, which has been standing for a tremendously long time. Those wooden walls hold more than just my secrets. Other lives have come and gone, and had lived in that cabin.
There are a lot of memories trying to break through again, so I need to get away from here and never come back. It’s not healthy being here. I came only to drop the letter and key off. I don’t want to go near that horrible lawyer ever again without Lincoln or Boxer to assist me.
“Whisper.”
My head swings to the side. Did I just hear my name called out?
I get that horrible feeling I’m being watched again. It’s such a distinct feeling. A gut feeling that makes me want to run to the bike and ride away. I know I’m being silly, but this sense is ridiculously strong.
I hear my name called out again, floating on the breeze. “Whisper.”
My natural instinct is to turn around. I can’t ignore it, and that’s when I hear the muted sound in the air that spears my left shoulder sharply backwards, while the rest of me goes with it, falling hard onto the dirt. Pain burns my shoulder in a blistering heat while I’m left staring up at the stars flooding the night sky.
Please, God. Not again.