Page 89 of Make You Mine

The message written on the walls of my bedroom this morning was a clear warning. This needs to come to an end.

I told you to stay the fuck away from her, in black. Then, in red ink: Are you ready to pay the price?

You’re gonna lose her, the voice inside my head says, plaguing my mind with bad thoughts. He’ll tell your secrets. Once she knows, there’s no way in the world she’ll want you.

Not that you ever had a chance.

I clutch the steering wheel.

Waking up to soft fabric in my hand was a surprise, too. Madelyn’s panties from last night.

I recognized them instantly.

I had to, I just had to press them against my nose and choke on her scent. Focused too much on my own desire and half-asleep, it took me a beat too long to understand that I never took the panties with me. That they, too, must have been left by the psycho, the game master. A souvenir of what I could never have.

He must have come into my room, scrawled the message on the walls while I slept, and stuffed the panties into my closed palm.

It fueled me. I’ve fucking had it with his game. I have to get to the bottom of this. If there’s no anonymous psycho, there’s nothing or anyone who can keep me from Maddy, other than myself.

Which is what brings me here.

I park my car on the driveway of the house I haven’t been in since I ran away seven years ago.

It’s six thirty in the evening. They should be here.

The outside remains the same as I remember. A typical Victorian house.

I stand in front of the tall gray door, a lighter shade than the brick of the structure, and ring the bell.

I bet the door isn’t locked, if it’s anything like the past. But it still feels the right thing to do. This isn’t my home anymore. This isn’t my family.

No one except Madelyn is. And that’s a choice I stand behind.

I ring again, after the first alert gives me no response.

I’m about to turn away when the door swings open with a hesitant click.

Miranda, Maddy’s mom, stands by the door, a silent stare that turns into the tiniest of smiles decorating her face.

“Kayden! What a surprise.”

She’s wearing a long floral dress that doesn’t quite fit the slippers she’s got on her feet. Her always-in-place blonde bob haircut complements her thinned figure. It’s clear this is a woman who has more freedom than she had in the past, and is expressing herself, yet there’s still a certain restraint.

There are no scars on her body, which is a relief, I guess. Then again, with the state of my father, I suspect that phase of his life is over. He’s no longer the patriarch of the house.

She is. Sure, she had to push through years of taking care of him, but she’s got him wrapped around her finger now, and I’m happy for her. I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t take care of him even if he were the sickest man on earth. Not after all he’s done to me.

Even if he promised to put me back in his will. Something he changed the minute he got sick of me, before attempting to keep controlling my life by signing me up for the military.

Fuck, living in the streets on stolen money was hard. Sleeping on people’s sofas was pretty bad, too.

But I don’t regret a single second of it.

Kudos to this woman.

“Hey. Sorry to show up unannounced. I know we didn’t end on the best terms…” I say to my stepmother, with whom I once shared a moment of sincerity.