We survivors do not have the privilege of crying over our past because we always have to outrun it. Otherwise, it will consume us.
“My mother was kidnapped when she was thirteen by a perverted man who kept her in his basement and raped her for eight years.” Her gasp echoes in the night, and I finish my drink in one gulp, hoping the whiskey could wash away the bitterness from my voice. “So you see, I did lie to you about something important. My biological father is a rapist.” The rain continues as the trees shake in the wind, while countless lights brighten the darkness around us. What a good allegory it is for what’s happening inside me now.
Lavender is the only bright light in my dark existence, and letting her go would be letting the chaos win.
She’s my one chance at salvation, and I won’t ever let her go, but for the first time in my life, I wonder…how fucking different is that from what Robert did to my mother?
I said murder is murder.
Wouldn’t it mean obsession is obsession regardless of the reason?
She might be trapped right now in a gilded cage, but it’s a cage from which she wishes to escape, and once she learns everything about my past?
She will be devastated.
If she asks me, truly asks me to let her, and after I understand that I killed any kinds of feelings she might have had for me…would I be able to let her go?
Lavender
I’m trying to process what Levi just said and get up when I notice that he froze, with his back facing me as he watches the rain.
If he steps any farther, he will get soaked from head to toe, but maybe he doesn’t care.
“Valencia…someone hurt Valencia?” My heart aches for the kind woman. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her.
I refuse for a second to think that Lachlan had anything to do with it.
Wait.
The math isn’t adding up because Valencia was around twenty-four or twenty-five when she had Aileen.
Then it hits me.
“You’re adopted.”
He looks like the spitting image of his father, with his blond hair and blue eyes, and I never for a second doubted the family connection. No one ever hinted that they weren’t biologically related.
Although the lack of childhood photos or their confusing answers about his age should have been a clue for me.
“Yes. They found me when I was seven or eight years old. No one truly knows my real age.”
“So your family hides the fact that you’re adopted?”
“It’s not a secret. We’re very private. Everyone in the family knows, the Kings included. I don’t broadcast it anywhere, but I don’t hide it either.”
Yes, rarely does anyone know anything about them as it is.
I swallow the anger that I apparently wasn’t considered family up until now, but then again no one owes me an explanation.
Resting my shoulder against the doorframe, I see him squeeze his glass tighter when I ask, “Where is your biological mom now?”
I’ve heard stuff about Lachlan and his friends over the years.
They belong to some kind of brotherhood where they helped people like me who ended up in hell due to sadistic people. I assume Levi’s mom is one of the survivors whom they rescued.
Since I didn’t feel sorry for these assholes, I didn’t think much about Lachlan’s method, but now I wonder if they are just killers and murderers who also found an outlet to channel their cravings for the greater good. They helped to deal with Jade’s madness back on the island as well.
Once again, I wouldn’t care.
