“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
There’s something about the way she says it, an acidic edge to her voice. She glances toward the spot I could have sworn I sawhim, and a shiver grips me. For the first time ever, I don’t have a snarky comeback. I don’t have a response at all.
I step around her, collect the books I dropped, and stuff them into my backpack before scouring the hall once more. My stomach sinks when I notice Easton is nowhere to be seen. I wouldn’t mind losing myself in whiskey right about fucking now.
Just as I turn to walk away, Whitney huffs at my back, “Really? You’ve got nothing?”
I keep moving, my focus ahead.
“I heard Carter’s warming up your seat in English!”
Good for him. I walk past the door to English, my heart beating against my chest like it’s on steroids. Down the hall, around the corner, and straight out of the school’s front doors. A cold sweat breaks out, growing worse with each step I take.
I don’t pause until I’m at the bus stop.
The bench is empty, but I can’t sit. I pace back and forth, messing with the strap of my backpack, as I wait and wait.
It feels like an eternity until I’m settled on the bus. Houses on either side of the street flit by, and, soon, the panic wanes, allowing me to pull in a deep, long breath.
I read once that everyone reacts to trauma in different ways. Some people’s brains take the entire incident and pack it neatly into a box, hiding the key for years, or sometimes forever. For others, they have no box, and the incident is left out on display, like a horror show playing on a constant loop to torment them.
Then there are people like me.
People who have a box, but the box is broken, and the contents spill out the top like guts. This category can be deceitful. The box can pretend to be nice and contained for years, until one day, it pops open like a jack-in-the-box with a ghost controlling the handle.
Maybe this is just my broken box acting up. Maybe I’m going crazy. I think I have to be.
It’s not the first time I’ve felt like someone was watching me, especially lately. But I’ve never conjured uphisimage before. The defined lines of his clean-shaven jaw, the hard shell of gelled, peppered hair. The chance I might not have imagined it is enough to make my heart seize and take me back to a place I desperately don’t want to be.
“Sometimes, when a person owes as much money as your father does, for as long as your father has, new agreements need to be made. I’m sure a smart girl like you can understand that.”
Pulling my jacket shut, I squirm at the edge of the stiff, unfamiliar bed, but two hairy hands grasp my knees and keep me in place.
“I’m pleased he and I were able to settle on a deal we could both find value in. A very rare and special kind of deal. Did he explain to you what that means?”
Swallowing, I shake my head.
“No, of course, he didn’t. You just followed him up here when he told you to because you’re a good little girl, aren’t you?”
I can’t stop staring at the thin white nightgown sprawled over the chair nearby. It looks like my size. Why is it my size?
A firm grip clutches my chin, angles my head until I’m staring into the emptiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. So empty I see straight through them. His thumb brushes the fresh bruise under my eye, the only visible reminder my dad doesn’t like being questioned.
“I’ll tell you exactly what it means. It means,” he whispers, “I own you now.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Despite the heat in this hotel room, I’m shaking.
He leans close, the sides of our jaws touching, then he presses his lips against my cheek.
My first kiss.
“That’s right, sweet, sweet girl. I’m your new daddy.”
My hands tremble as I pull a notebook and pen from my backpack. The letter to my cousin is brief but straightforward, letting him know who I think I saw. I make sure to leave out any personal details, including our names.
It’s been two years since a friend of Alejandro’s broke him out of the maximum security prison he was sent to when I was nine. Although he won’t reveal much to me about his life now, I know he’s able to pull strings where most people can’t. No lines are too grey for him to cross.
He’s the only hope I have to find out once and for all if that monster is still alive.
