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If you are reading this, then my time has come, and I am truly sorry for leaving you. Being your father was my greatest accomplishment. My sweet girl, I love you more than life itself. I’m so proud of you and everything you have to offer this world. Never stop being the girl I raised to become a strong, smart woman.
My company, the house, the cars, and everything I own, I leave to you. If you followed in my footsteps, then you will know what to do with my will.
Love always,
Dad
Unable to breathe, my chest is tight from all the air sucked from my lungs by the news. My dad wrote the will right after my mother had died, long before he’d met Clarissa. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I study the Last Will and Testament of Connor Fitzgerald, naming me the sole beneficiary to his estate. This changes everything. Clarissa was never entitled to a cent. For a second, I feel victorious, until it sinks in that nothing can change until I get the hell out of this attic.
I gather up the journals and letters and place them inside the chest, staring at everything one last time before I close the lid. Pushing myself up from the floor, I clutch the will in my hand and think of my next move. Then, I stuff it in my pocket for safe keeping. It’s worthless in Clarissa’s hands and even less useful if I lose it. I check my pocket three times just in case before I continue with the rest of my plan.
Can I tie the blankets and clothes together to make something strong enough to lower myself into the backyard?
I’m three floors above ground and not exactly limber. Even if I were, it would still take some serious skill to maneuver the windows on this side of the house without Clarissa noticing. She has this place under twenty-four seven surveillance. That must be how she knew I went out on Saturday night. I thought I knew all the blind spots around the property and inside the house, but as usual, when it comes to Clarissa, I am always wrong.
It takes me about twenty minutes to figure out the best way to tie the shirts, pants, and blankets together to test their durability. The house has small patios situated on each floor. If I can make it to the one on the third floor without my stepsisters seeing me, I should be able to get myself down to the one off to the side of my bedroom.
Unlike my boyfriend, I am not the least bit athletic and will probably sprain or break something. Worst case scenario I plummet to my death. Using the doorknob across the room as an anchor, I tie a knot as tight as I can, give it a few tugs, and open the window next to the bed.
Slowly, I lower the knotted clothing and blankets outside, the chill from the cold seeping into my bones. Dressed in my father’s long sleeve pajama shirt and pants, I have to be quick about this or I will not make it long without cramping up from the weather. My body is already stiff from the conditions inside the room, let alone what awaits me on the other side.
While I’m not super religious, I make the sign of the cross and say a silent prayer that I make it to the ground in one piece. Here goes, I tell myself, as I climb onto the sill and stare down. Why did I do that? Holy shit I can’t do this. What the hell am I thinking?
Shrouded in darkness, I can barely make out the gazebo in my backyard, but I don’t miss the sound of someone’s feet smacking the pavement below.
Just great. Busted, already.
I’m not even thirty seconds into my brilliant plan, and Bitch Mother already has my number, waiting for me with her usual scowl. But the harder I focus, the more I realize it’s not a woman below. A tall man with broad shoulders sneaks around the terrace and peeks into the windows. I should be scared. What if he sees me? Okay, I’m a little freaked out. What could be worse than plunging to your death? Oh, right having some psycho do it for you.
Paralyzed by fear, I sit there and watch him, the only sound I hear for miles coming from my teeth and the sounds of his shoes. Not until my leg goes numb from it pressing against the cold brick do I attempt to shake away the pain and almost losing my balance. A low cry escapes my mouth, and now, I have the attention of the man below.
“Ella,” the man whispers, and I want to cry when I recognize the voice. It’s Shawn.
Shawn
“Ella, do not even think about doing what I think you are about to do,” I whisper, trying not to attract the attention of Clarissa or her evil daughters. “We need to think of something more logical.”
“Like what?”
“I can call the police.”
“No,” she cries. “Please don’t do that, Shawn.”
“Then, I’m coming up there to get you.”
“No, it’s too dangerous,” she says in a hushed tone. “Stay where you are. If you get hurt, you won’t have a career, and I don’t want to be the reason that happens.”
“All I care about right now is you, so stay where you are, Ella. You will only end up hurting yourself. I will be fine. For once, just listen to me.”
“I can come to you. Maybe meet you halfway. Would that work?”
Judging by the height of the patio on the second floor, I can use the table beneath it to climb up the back of the house and rescue Ella. I cannot believe it has come to this.
What kind of person would do this to a young girl, especially one as sweet and innocent as Ella?
Here, I’d thought my dad was an asshole for walking out on m
y mom and me when I was a kid, but at least he did us a favor by leaving. Putting up with Clarissa’s shit hasn’t made a bit of difference in Ella’s life.
