Or it could have been the day I stole Maggie Jones’s pudding cup. But Maggie was a bully, never nice, and always stuffing her face, so I like to think I did her a favor.
I once stole a chocolate bar from the grocery store, but seriously? Fate would have been after every little teenage shit if that were the case. Point fingers all you want, but where I come from, it’s like a rite of passage.
No, I think fate decided she hated me the day I walked into Dale High School freshman year and my path collided with Axel’s. It would make sense that the reason she hated me was the reason for all my pain. The reason I’m convinced fate will never shine in my favor again.
Why would she? She took it all away. Wiped out every single thing I have ever loved in one swift kick.
One day, I might figure it out, the reason fate hates me, Isabelle West. But until that day, I damn sure will be careful with my dreams and my plans, my heart and my soul.
Fate might hate me, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping that one day she forgets about her favorite chew toy. When that day comes, I hope karma has some fun with that bitch fate.
2 years later
I can feel the sun warming my skin. I love this blissful state between sleep and just waking up. It reminds me of being numb. You haven’t hit the switch to turn on your mind, giving it permission to process and remember. You are just there. I love waking up feeling the sun warming my skin; it reminds me that I am alive. Alive and surviving.
I sigh and roll over in bed, laughing when I see the stupid body pillow dressed like a man with an oddly lifelike face drawn on the top. Dee insisted that I needed it in my life. Her theory was that if I didn’t want a man at least I wouldn’t sleep lonely, whatever that meant. I stopped trying to understand all that is Dee years ago. She has been my best friend for the last eleven years. She is the sister I never had and I know without a doubt in my mind that she would always have my back.
We met when I was eighteen and pissed at the world. She was bopping all over the room during freshman orientation, smiling at everyone who would look at her. She took one look at me and decided that we would be the best of buds. I think she saw the broken soul inside me and with her infectious happiness decided she would be my medication. She was by my side with every up and every down—and trust me, there were a lot of downs. She was my biggest cheerleader and supporter, and she singlehandedly brought light back into my life.
She picked me up when I had fallen, dusted me off, and helped me heal.
She did it again two years ago. No questions asked. She dropped everything, ran to my rescue, and helped me heal again.
We had lost that ‘sisterhood’ for a little while when I was married to Brandon. It wasn’t easy, but I was able to keep in touch with her with stolen calls and secret meetings. I knew she worried. She knew things weren’t good at home, but Dee, being Dee, came with a smile and the knowledge that if I needed her she would be there.
And she hadn’t lied; she dropped everything and ran with one word.
I know she feels somewhat guilty for introducing us. It’s unjustified, but it is there. I can see it sometimes in her eyes when we would be spend time together with a few bottles of wine between us. She hides it well, I will give her that, but I know my girl, and with a heart that big, she can’t help it.
I met Brandon when I was twenty-one, carefree, and looking to numb my world with drinking and parties.
He was the first man I gave a second glance to after Axel. It had been almost four years and I was ready to try and love again.
Oh, how blind I was.
Brandon was, on the outside, perfect. He was a few years older than me, and had already graduated from the University of North Carolina and established himself within his father’s accounting firm. He was successful and quickly on his way to even bigger things. He wasn’t overly tall, just shy of six feet, with a lean runner’s body. Sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He was the perfect boyfriend, showering me in romance, extravagant vacations, and gifts, always showing up to take me on surprise trips, doing all the little things we always think makes a man perfect. Six months after we met, that perfect boyfriend became my fiancé, and four months later, I became Mrs. Brandon Hunter.
Then the Brandon I had met and fallen in love with slowly changed. Gradually, he began distancing me from my family, friends and most importantly, Dee. He knew, of all the bonds I had, that hers was the strongest. I became a prisoner in my own life. I know my grandparents worried, but he was slick and always came up with the perfect reason we couldn’t come, or when the rare occasions came that we did, he was always called home for some reason. Dee was harder for him to brush off, but he did. Or at least he thought he did. He was good; I’ll give him that—the master of control and manipulation.