I looked out at the patio and around the beach. Going back into the restaurant to look around one last time. I told Dylan, Jacob, and Alex I was heading out. Dylan asked me if I was staying around for a bit, and I told him probably not. He nodded in understanding and Half-Pint hugged me again, whispering in my ear not to be a stranger. I nodded.
I called Briggs again while I was in the cab and it went straight to voicemail again. Which only added to my frustration on where the fuck she went.
I walked into our hotel room, starting to panic.
“Briggs?” I yelled out to no avail, looking around the room.
That's when I noticed the sliding glass door to the balcony was cracked open. I found her sitting out there, blankly staring at the ocean.
“What the fuck, babe? I’ve been looking all over for you. Your phone is going straight to fuckin’ voicemail. Why would you leave me like that?”
She didn't even look up at me when she whispered, “You looked fine to me, Austin. I left you with your friends and family. Where you belong.”
“Baby…” I coaxed, moving her chair that she was sitting in to crouch down in front of her on the balls of my feet. “Let me explain.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Explain what? That you’re a fucking liar. That you have lied to me for over two years now.”
“I would never lie to you,” I simply stated.
She looked me dead in the eyes. “I recall you saying ‘I don’t have anything to go home to.’ Sound familiar?”
“I don’t.”
“Then we have two very different definitions to that statement, Austin.”
“Briggs, listen to me. My family, my friends and I… fuck… it’s complicated. What you saw today... There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“No shit.”
I jerked back. “It’s not like you’ve been a patent of fucking honesty, Briggs. Or should I call you Daisy Martinez. Your uncle might appreciate that," I snapped.
“My name is Daisy Mitchell. Not Martinez. He was my mom’s brother.”
“Was?”
She scoffed. “Yeah, Austin. Was… You want to share sad stories? I’ll go first. I’m a fucking orphan. The only reason I didn’t tell you Martinez was my uncle is because I didn’t want you to stop looking at me the way you do. You haven't looked at me the same since you found out. You don’t know this life. You don’t know what I’ve seen. What he’s capable of. When people realize that I’m related to him, it changes the way they look at me. The way they treat me. The way they act around me. You really think a woman would have been respected the way I was if they didn’t know I was his niece.”
I took a deep breath, knowing she was right.
“I’ve lived a very fucked up life. My parents were killed in a car accident when I was six. I still dream about their dead bodies in the car. I still see all the blood, their bodies mangled, glass shattered everywhere. I still remember the last thing I told them, telling them I hated them.”
A single tear fell down her face. I just sat there shocked as shit with what she had just revealed, knowing she wasn't even done yet. Never in a million years did I expect her to say those things.
She held it together, never once making me think she was that broken over the last two years.
“I still hear my own voice, yelling at them, begging them to hold me. To comfort me. Pleading with them to wake up. Not understanding why they wouldn’t. I still remember waking up in a hospital next to me a man I’d never met before. A man with cold, dark eyes and no soul with an expensive suit. A man who never held me, never told me he loved me, never consoled me when I woke up screaming in the middle of the night.”
Her tears fell freely now, one right after the other.
“The first time I saw someone murdered, it was on my fifteenth birthday. It was my uncle’s gift to me. What a sick fuck right? He killed the driver of the car that took away my life. Right in front of my eyes. His blood is on my hands now. To this day I still feel his brains and skull all over me,” she wept, her breathing becoming erratic.
“Baby.” I reached out for her, and she harshly pushed me away.
“Oh come on, Austin… I’m just sharing my sad story. It’s what you’ve always wanted, right? For me to tell you my truths,” she bellowed, her voice breaking with each word.
“Esteban was my only friend, and he wasn’t even a friend. He was paid to protect me. He took my virginity, the same night my uncle took the little bit of innocence I had left.”
“Jesus Christ,” I breathed out.
“My uncle found us. He beat him within an inch of his life. His men dragged him out of the room. For the last five years I didn’t even know if he was dead or alive. I’ve been a Martinez since that night. Daisy Mitchell died with her parents in the car.”
She shook her head, willing away the memories. Knowing it was no use. They were etched in her soul as much as my scars were carved on my skin.