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“Brantley!” a woman yelled toward him. “Get here now.”
“Hey!” I called out, dusting off the sand from my sundress. “Your name is Brantley?”
“Shut up, freak.”
“Madison!” my mom yelled out from the porch. She was holding a tray of little pirate-shaped cupcakes and wearing a yellow and white sundress. She looked beautiful. I wanted to be as beautiful as her one day. I skipped toward my mom, wiping the tears out of my face. Mommy wouldn’t be happy if she saw me crying, and I didn’t want to get the boy into trouble. I didn’t know why; he was not a very nice boy. I should’ve wanted to get him into trouble.
“Brantley,” my mom said once we both reached her, bending down to my level while still balancing the tray with one hand. “This is Madison.” Brantley must’ve been at least two years older than me. He wore a baseball cap and had an angry scowl on his face. I didn’t know why, but I instantly liked him.
“Hi!” I smiled, holding my hand out to him. Maybe if I introduced myself properly, he would like me better. Mommy always said people liked good manners. “I’m Madison. Are these your cupcakes?” I looked up to my mom. “Are these his cupcakes? Is that why they’re blue and why I’m not allowed to eat them?” My mom looked at Brantley and me nervously.
“Mom?” I asked again. She was starting to fidget, which she only did when she’s nervous.
“Yes, dear. Why don’t you and Brantley go play while me and Lucan have a quick word.” I must’ve been confused. Lucan? Bringing my eyes to the new body that stood beside my mom, I looked up the black suit pants, until I finally found ice-cold blue eyes, tanned skin, and blond hair. The man was looking down at me with a dirty stare that made me cuddle into my mom’s legs. He kneeled in front of me.
“Well hello. You must be Madison.”
I nodded, wrapping my hand in my mom’s frilly dress and using it to cover my mouth. “Yes.”
“I’m Lucan.”
“Hi, Lucan.”
He leaned forward, his eyes squinting. “I think I’ll call you Silver.”
I suck in a breath. Brantley? What the fuck? I remember part of that day now. I recall it so vividly it scares me a little that I didn’t remember it until this point. Brantley and I had met? I was at his birthday party? The rest of that day is a little blurry, but there was so much more, because I remember driving home with my mom and dad later that night. So there’s still a whole day unaccounted for.
Maybe I could ask my dad.
I frown, grasping the glass bottle. There’s no way I can trust my dad with anything now. Can I trust anyone? I know I can trust Tatum, I think, but then again, at one point, I completely trusted my dad. I would have trusted him with my life—and I did on multiple occasions, but yet, he still let me down.
Can I trust anyone?
Can I trust myself?
My brain fuzzes as white noise rings through my ears.
Something has happened. Something has switched inside of me since Bishop asked that question. It has triggered a dark part of my soul I never wanted to acknowledge again.
Have I ever really been safe? Even as a little girl, it seems the adults I trusted and the people I was supposed to be safe with let me down. Feeling more than overwhelmed with my thoughts, I bring the rim of my bottle to my lips, pounding down another couple of mouthfuls until I can’t feel the burning sensation in my throat and everything turns numb.
“Trust no one. Fear no one. Fuck everyone,” I whisper to myself, pushing my long hair away from my face. grinning, I walk toward the stairwell and climb up two at a time. I hope Tatum doesn’t take too long to get here, but then again—can I really trust her?
Pushing open my bedroom door, a sense of power rushes over me. I trust no one, and that means no one can hurt me. No one can touch me. I’m untouchable because of this revelation. I can’t be hurt again. I will fight for my control and my freedom for that little girl. For that broken part of me that yearns for it. Slamming my bedroom door, I take another pull of JW and look toward my closet.
Smirking, I place the bottle on my dresser and make my way to my closet. Flicking on the light, my eyes find my black skinny jeans. They’re ripped at the knees and stick to me like a second skin. Grabbing them, I run my fingers over all my crop tops, opting for the most revealing one I can find. A straight across strapless crop top that shows all of my toned stomach. Looking at both items, an idea clicks in my head. Taking the clothes back to my room, I toss them onto my bed and pull open my underwear drawer, taking out my fishnet stockings. Yes, so much yes, this is perfect. Taking everything to my bathroom—and the bottle of my old pal Johnny Walker—I lock Nate’s side and my side and turn on the shower. Slipping under the hot cascading water, I take my bottle in with me and sit on the bathtub floor. Hugging the whiskey, I squeeze my eyes closed as the first teardrops. The beading water trickling over my flesh, down my arms like an assault, reminds me of Black Friday’s touch.
