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Even today.
Harley was nicer to me today—guarded, but nicer.
What happens if I’m making a mistake by trusting my father?
I wish I knew all the answers to these question that are constantly swirling in my brain. The sad truth is, I don’t. I have a feeling I’m running away now, and not to escape being held against my will—but because I’m afraid of what might happen with Marcum if I stay. I dreamed about his kiss all night last night. I woke up once in the middle of the night, dreaming of him touching me, only to find I was touching myself. I got out of bed and took a very cold shower at four in the morning. It didn’t help much, but it did help. Getting away from Marcum is probably a great idea… if it didn’t leave me so sad.
I finally make it to the stairwell. I’m so nervous that there were a couple of times I could have sworn I heard someone following me. I looked around but didn’t see anything. I put my hand on the door and open it with a frown. It’s just a closet. My father said it was a secret stairway, but…that’s when I see it.
On the back wall there’s a crack, like big enough to put my hand through—which is exactly what I do. The wall swings back when I push and it reveals a dark corridor with stairs. I take my cellphone from my back pants-pocket and turn on the flashlight app. Pale light floods the stairs and though I’m still nervous, I push it aside. I’ve gone too far to turn back now.
I don’t trust my father. I don’t buy that he’s doing this for me either. My best case scenario is that he’s doing this to show Marcum he’s not in control. My father is stupid, and he loves getting the last word in. If he could take something away from Marcum before he runs for his life, he would. I don’t even want to think about the worst case scenario. I’m planning in phases. Phase one is escaping. Phase two is eluding my father and whatever harebrained scheme he’s come up with. I figure I’ve been doing that my whole life, it can’t be that hard. Phase three will be the hardest one…
Trying to forget how Marcum makes me feel.29MarcumTopper and I are quiet as we follow Toi through the small stairway. The girl really is shit at taking care of herself. I don’t know how she survived with her father as long as she did. She has no idea we’re practically on her heels. She didn’t get wise when she opened the closet and found the door mostly opened. If we hadn’t done that, I doubt she would have ever found it. Now that we’re at the doorway, I wait to see what she does. For a minute she looks behind her. I can’t see her face clearly because it is shadowed, but I’m pretty sure she looks more sad than frightened. As she pushes the key into the dummy lock, I know it’s sadness that fills me.
If only I had met Toi sooner… of course she still would have been too young. Maybe somewhere in an alternate universe we would have worked, but nowhere in this world would the two of us ever have been possible and she will never know how much I regret that.
She gasps when the door opens. How surprised would she be to know that I had the lock doctored? You can literally put any key in there and it would release. Hell, you could even put a nail file in it. I’ll need to fix that shit quick.
Topper and I push against the wall to remain out of sight as she opens the door and light begins to filter in. She takes a cautious step outside and she should be cautious. I’m not sure what’s out there yet; we’ve kept things silent while Top and I followed Toi down. They know to stay hidden—unless Toi is walking into a fucking free for all. I don’t want her hurt, and I don’t trust Weasel not to have something up his sleeve. I know without a shadow of a doubt he’s not helping his daughter out from only the kindness in his heart. The cold truth is that Weasel doesn’t give a fuck about Toi. If he did he would have never hurt her, and he sure wouldn’t have got her mixed up with me and my club. So, if he’s helping her escape it’s to benefit him—of that I’m sure. I’m also positive Toi knows that, and maybe that’s what bothers me the most. Her going through with this is clear proof that she’s desperate to leave me. If that isn’t enough to make a man’s gut burn, I don’t know what is.
