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I stand here, shaking. “Why is it so hard to answer a simple question?” I ask myself.
Chapter 33
Danger
I’m enraged. How could she speak to that man? And who the fuck is that guy? How does he know so much about me?
I only have one idea. The devil himself told him who I am.
The thought pisses me off further. Will I ever be free of him? When will my dues be met? I’ve paid the piper, and I want my freedom. Enough is enough.
I wander the hotel floors, taking the stairs and roaming more and more endless hallways, in search of something I’ll never find.
Isabella.
I’ll never find her, it’s obvious.
The devil hid her well. And I can never pay repentance.
So I wander. I move through the building with absolutely no purpose. My whole life is beginning to feel like this. Zero purpose.
“I’m guessing your girl told you the truth,” a dark and sinister voice says when I step outside to have a smoke.
“You’re a fucking asshole.” I move closer, wondering if I should beat him up now or later. I decide on the latter, wanting to know what he said to Monterey first.
He lights up a smoke. I bum one, and light mine up too. I inhale the smoke, letting it fill my lungs before releasing it. “Yeah, I’ve been called that before.”
“So, ruining lives is fun for you?”
He turns to face me, his eyes searching mine. “I’m just trying to understand you, is all.”
“Understand this, stay the fuck away from Monterey.”
He laughs a little as he sucks on the end of his cigarette. “She seems to always find me.”
“How do you even know about Isabella?”
His smile leaves his face and his eyes are haunted. “I know a lot more than you may think I do.” He stops talking, studying the ground a minute before he stares back at me. “Maybe there’s some people in this world who don’t want to be found.”
“Bullshit. I won’t believe that.”
He shrugs. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
“I’m gonna fucking find her.”
He squeezes my shoulder as he turns to leave. “I sure hope you do, but maybe you need a little nudge in the right direction.” He walks away and I’m left standing there, in the dark, wondering what on earth he can possibly mean.
Knowing full well I won’t get any answers out here, I head toward the race track, wanting to feel a little alive before I head back to the room. If I even head back there at all.
Maybe Monterey was right. Maybe I do hide away my feelings behind sex. But in my own defense, it’s all I’ve ever known.
Fuck. I’ve got all this energy and no way to release it. I full on sprint toward the track, knowing very well it’s a good mile or two up the road. I don’t care, though. As I run I let the wind rush through my hair. It feels good, using up this energy. I run faster, letting my muscles scream at me from moving too fast too quickly. I don’t care though, I welcome it.
I think back on my life. My mother, trying the best she could in a shit situation. A father so selfish he didn’t care about his own family. My thoughts wander through everyone I’ve ever known, landing on Isabella.
PAST
“Isabella, wait. Come back.”
“Daddy says we’re not allowed down here.”
“Then why are you still going down the stairs?” I whisper back to my little sister, breathlessly. She’s two years younger than me, and that means that I’m in charge.
Yet, she keeps moving. She keeps taking each step to the basement one at a time. Slowly. Her tiny feet hesitating, her little hand gripped to the banister for dear life.
I was fast asleep in my room, dreaming about what every twelve-year-old boy my age dreams about, Christmas presents. This year I’d been begging my parents for a quarter-midget race car like the one Jared has. My father said maybe this year.
I just hope Christmas falls on one of my father’s ‘good days’ and not a bad one.
At the bottom of the basement stairs, there’s a wooden door. It’s always closed. It’s forbidden to go inside.
We’ve been told countless times to stay out. It’s my father’s workroom. No one’s allowed. Not even my mother.
“Isabella, don’t.” She reaches the bottom of the stairs and waits, staring at the cracked open door.
A creeping fear now grips onto my shoulders, holding me back.
“We should see if the noise was Daddy. He could be hurt.”
I almost want to say good. My father deserves it. After the many times he’d hurt our mother, maybe it would be a blessing in disguise to have my father lying on the basement floor in pain. I can’t bring myself to walk away either. I want to see it.
Curiosity will win out.
