A fury of heat ignites my neck with the realization that this punk sleaze was able to undermine and trap me to him.
“What do you want?”
“I’m not ready to collect on my investment right now,” he responds with a grin I want to knock off his face.
“You’re a sick fuck,” I sling at him. “Using Pike for nothing more than a transaction.”
“You’re one to accuse of using. I watched you use him since we were kids.”
“You don’t know anything about our relationship,” I snap in defense.
“I know that he loved you and sacrificed everything for you.”
“And here you are, pissing on the both of us.”
“You should be thanking me for keeping your ass out of prison,” he throws back at me, and then mocks, “What was Pike anyway? Number three? Four?”
“Fuck you. He was my brother.”
Gripping me tighter, the saxophone continues to fill the air around us as Matt dips me and seethes under his breath, “No. Fuck you, Elizabeth. He was my best friend and you killed him, and for what, I have no fucking clue because he never did anything but give you everything you ever wanted.”
He then pulls me back up, and I feel like I’m about to explode in hate at this piece of shit who doesn’t know a goddamn thing about the truth of me and my brother. He has no idea what the two of us endured and how it fucked us up for life.
When Matt kisses my hand, I realize that the music has stopped.
“Don’t stray too far, kitty. Remember your place in this equation. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to recoup the debt you owe me,” he jeers before turning his back to me and walking away.
I watch as he disappears into the sea of people, thankful that he has no clue I’m about to hop on a plane to Scotland. If he thinks he can use me as a pawn, I won’t do anything to dismantle that thought, because pride is a faulty wire that will ultimately burn you.
THE CRACKLING OF the fire fills the room. Darkened in the dead of night, the only light coming from the nearly extinct embers. I’ve been hiding away in my home office all week, panicked and on the search for anything to weave my way out of this fucking mess.
Knocking back two Xanax and a hit of whiskey, I pick up the phone. My fingers tap incessantly against the bocote desktop as the ringing pierces my ears in this silence that’s consumed me.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Everything okay?”
Rolling back in my chair, away from the desk, I pinch the bridge of my nose and bite against the oncoming headache. “She’s on her way to Scotland.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m still hacked into her accounts. I just thought you should know.”
“Thanks,” is all he says before hanging up on me.
I GRIP THE ratty, red-headed doll more tightly while everyone sleeps around me, forty thousand feet above soil as the giver of my doll lies six feet under. While I was packing, I found the gift Pike had given me on my tenth birthday stuffed in a box in my closet. I remember him being embarrassed about the doll, having stolen it, but I loved it. And I loved him for being the one person who truly cared about me at a time when I was so alone. This doll was the only good memory of that birthday, because shortly after he gave it to me, I was forced to face the demon in the basement. The demon that would utterly destroy me and mold me into the monster I am today.
“Would you like something to drink, dear?” the flight attendant asks softly.
“No, thank you.”
With my mind racing, I can’t settle down to sleep. I keep replaying these past few months in my head. Over and over. I miss Pike, but it doesn’t even compare to the ache of losing Declan. I hate that in his last hours his perception of me was tarnished. All I wanted was for him to believe I was good and pure, the way he always saw me, but in the end, he discovered it was a lie.
That dossier touched the hands of the men in my life, but it was Declan’s hands that hurt the most. It took me a while to open up that file to see what exactly was in it, but when I did, there’s no denying the facts from fiction. Declan knew I was a liar, a foster kid, a con artist. It kills me to think about how he must’ve felt when he realized the truth about me, because all I wanted was to love him, comfort him, and make him feel safe with me.
Who am I kidding though?
I could never love the way a man like that should be loved, but I was willing to try.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” I remember him saying as I allow my mind to drift back.
“I hate this,” I said. “I hate every moment I’m not with you. You’re all that I want, and I hate life for not being fair to us. And I’m scared. I’m scared of everything, but I’m mostly scared of losing you. You’re the one good thing that’s ever come along for me. Somehow, in this fucked up world, you have a way of making all the ugly disappear.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”