I’d rather freak out obsessively over the actuality than the mystery of this thing.
Re: You think your clever
Angel (or whatever your calling yourself these days),
You can keep running but I’m always rite behind you.
All you have to do is give me the money and I’ll leave you alone.
I won’t stop until your life is ruined, like you ruined dad’s & mine.
I’m done playing games. Give me the rest of the money or I expose you and put you into the public eye. I bet America would love to know where you are now.
You are the reason for all our lives being ruined, but you can make it rite and go live out the rest of your days as a nobody, just like what you want. It doesn’t have to be like this. Just give me the money and I’ll leave your miserable ass alone.
What is it you and Mom always say? Miss you always?
I’m on your tail. Soon, I won’t miss you at all.
Your loving brother
It takes minutes for my fingers to stop shaking. For my breaths to come back from the jagged things they were and fall back under my control, some semblance of a rhythmic pattern to them once more. To be able to run a check on the sender and find the IP address the email was sent from.
Someone smarter who was trying to extort their sister over email might try to hide their IP address, use a proxy through some third-party system, make it look like it’s coming from Sweden, or anywhere youaren’t.
My brother? Let’s just say he didn’t get the brains in the family.
Within minutes of my fingers operating as normal again, I have the results.
Minnesota.
Still back home.
My breath falls out of me in a longwhoosh.
He still has nothing on me. No clue where I am.
It means he’s still back home, pressuring Mom, ruining her life, but she won’t crack.
I never tell her where I am not because I don’t trust her, I don’t want her to know, I don’tmissher so much it makes it hard to breathe every fucking day. I keep my location hidden from her so my brother can’t hold it over her head. So he has nothing he can do to her, nothing he can get from her, to make her feel she has to comply with him and his shitty demands any more than she already is.
Mom has no money, we both know that.
She didn’t want the payout, wouldn’t take a cent of it. Even dad would’ve wanted it to go to me, according to her. That’s why she made sure just as soon as I turned eighteen the trust was accessible by me and only me. And that Randall didn’t find out about it for so long.
By the time he did, I was long gone.
He’s always been a real piece of shit, but when he has something to gain? He knows no boundaries. Randall will stop at nothing to step on my neck, crush me as he tries to raise himself up the ladder of the shitty world he calls his life.
At this point, it wouldn’t even matter to him that I don’t have a penny left of all we have left of our father.
He’s spent so long being single-minded, this one focus to pour all of his vile self into, that he wouldn’t stop just because of the silly truth that I don’t have the money he’s after.
No.
Mom has tried to reason with him time and again over the years, and he hasn’t listened.
My brother feels wronged by not getting a cut, and maybe if he hadn’t been a junkie since high school he would’ve gotten half, but he alienated our parents all by his damn self and wants to blame me for it.
