There was one point earlier this year I thought that would change. The two weeks following Justine’s eighteenth birthday were the lowest days of my life. With my betrayal stinging Axel’s ego more than his heart, he demanded the remaining money I owed by the end of the week.
I was blindsided and desperate. I didn’t have the means to amass over four hundred thousand dollars within days. I barely had two nickels to rub together. Axel knew this; that is why he demanded what he did.
"Stay away from Ryan, Savannah, and we will continue our current payment plan,” he said with a sigh, as if he was helping me instead of hurting me.
I wanted to say no—I was screaming “no” on repeat in my head—but one glance into my dad’s tormented eyes forced me to agree to Axel’s request. My dad had no one on his side. I had to pick him over everyone—even Ryan.
That killed me.
It honestly stung like a thousand bees when I stood behind the door, listening to Ryan knock on repeat and not answering him. I wanted to let him in; I wanted to explain what was happening, but I also wanted my dad to spend his final years in a familiar environment. He lost his wife; he didn't deserve to lose his dignity as well.
My foot slips off the gas pedal when my car enters the long circular driveway of my family home. It isn’t the moving truck parked at the front that has me backpedaling. It is the person standing on the stoop, directing over a dozen men.
It's been years since I've seen her, but I'll never forget her glossy honey hair and peachy red lips.
It is my mom.
Chapter 2
Savannah
After parking my car next to three men taking a breather from my mom’s demanding aura, I curl out of my car. I feel like I’m dreaming. My mind is hazy, and my steps are sluggish. This can’t be happening. Not now.
You’d think my first response to seeing my mother would be excitement. It isn’t. It is angered confusion. What is she doing here? And why is she moving our belongings out of our house instead of returning the ones she wrongly left with?
I count to ten while rounding the back of the truck half-loaded with the possessions I've stockpiled the past nine months. My long drive must be wreaking havoc with my composure, causing me to hallucinate—what else would instigate such weird delusions?
My mind isn’t playing tricks on me. The back of the truck is laden with my favorite belongings. There is even a handful of items I purchased for my dad. His disease requires familiarity, so as much as I wanted to rid his bedroom of the disaster my mom’s brush with interior design caused their room, I couldn’t. The hideous fur rug and mismatched floral cushions had to stay, much to my dismay.
The workers have barely sucked down their hand-rolled cigarettes when my mother claps her hands together, demanding they return to work. She commands them with the same pompous attitude she used on our house staff in the years leading to her disappearance.
She is the captain. They are her soldiers.
“Who do you think you are? You have no right to waltz in here after three years and act like you own the place,” I snarl, taking the stairs of my family home like I’m Rocky Balboa climbing the stone steps at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
The anger in my voice shocks me. I always anticipated being grateful upon discovering my mother is alive, but all I feel is anger. I went to hell and back when she left, and now, just as all the pieces are falling into place, she returns like a bat out of hell, ruffling more feathers than settling them.
No!I won’t let her ruin this for me. I won’t let her ruin this forus.
“Does Dad know you’re here. . .?” I stop talking when bewilderment bamboozles me. “Does he even know who you are anymore?”
My mom takes in a sharp breath as a mask of shock and anger slips over her face. Her response replicates mine to a T. I’m equally pissed and traumatized.
With her mouth gaped, she stares at me like I am a mirage. I don’t know where she thinks I’ve been. Unlike her, I belong here. This is my home.
“Savannah. . .” she whispers in a breathy moan, half-startled, half-stern. “You’re home early. We weren’t anticipating your return until tomorrow.”
“We?” I ask, clearly confused. “There is nowe, Mom. There isus. Me and dad. Not you.”
The confusion on her face is pushed aside for sternness. “Oh.” Her eyes reveal she wants to say more than she just did. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she eventually settles on, her words not matching the deep groove between her blonde brows.
“Where’s Willis? Dad needs familiarity. He’s been with him for nearly a year.” I skirt past her to enter the foyer of my home. “Willis?!”
I’m left windless for the second time in thirty seconds when my eyes absorb the shell I used to call home. Everything has been stripped. It is even emptier now than it was when I sold every possession we owned the week after Justine’s party. I wanted out of my agreement with Axel, so I did everything in my power to get out.
If only it had been enough. Axel had me over a barrel, and he knew it.
Not recognizing a single face, I charge for the curved stairwell I’ve slid down more times than I’ve climbed.
