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The second birth certificate has a tear rolling down my cheek.Mae Rose Witlock. Born: September 1st, 2002. Father: Jaxon Witlock.
My death certificate also has the last name of Witlock, and that I had died that same day.
Holy cannoli!
Hope blossoms in my chest. I finally know my father’s name. I can finally see if what Preston said years ago was true or not. To see if my real dad is alive. Also, my twenty-first birthday isn’t in two days. It’s tomorrow.
Wait, no.
Twisting my neck, I glance at my clock. It’s after midnight. Friday the 1st. Today’s my real birthday.
Scrambling to my feet, I almost trip as I rush over to my bookcase. I flip through everything until I find what I’m looking for—a clear plastic folder that zips shut, something left over from high school. Why I hung onto it, I don’t know, but I’m glad I did now.
Sitting back down on the bed, I slip all three documents inside the folder, facing them together so no one can read what’s on them. The rest of the loose papers are things I don’t know anything about, but I still put them in the folder. They must be important if someone saved them.
My mind freezes as I wonder if Mom put them there, knowing I’d find everything. If she knows I’ve been using that spot as a hidey-hole, how long has she known about it? Shaking my head, I refocus—I can’t go down the rabbit hole of playing the ‘what if’ game.
Picking up one of the envelopes, I open it and my jaw drops. Mom and Preston took out a life insurance policy for me after they were married for fifty thousand dollars. A few months after I ‘died’, the insurance paid it out in full.
Angrily, I wipe away a few tears that escape. Was I just a scam for them to get money from the government? Was my dad in on it, too?
The other envelopes are from some guy named Jack who got my new identity set up. Stuffing all the envelopes into the folder, I zip it closed before picking up the oldest journal and start reading. I need to know more about what happened, even if it is only from Mom’s point of view.
I’m not sure how long I’m reading for when I hear Preston’s voice coming from their bedroom, startling me so much I nearly scream. It takes me a bit to realize that his voice is clearer than usual because I haven’t put the boards back in place yet. I can even hear mom’s soft snores. Quietly, I creep closer so I can hear him better.
“I’ll have the money next weekend, X. I have something already set up and you’ll be paid in full.”
He’s silent for a little while and then he curses. His breathing becomes harder, sort of like he’s panicking. After a few moments, I hear him dialing someone.
“Bruce—any chance you want her sooner? I’ll even shave a little off the price if you pick her up on the 2nd.”
There’s silence from the bedroom for a few moments, and then Preston grunts.
“Perfect. Come to the trailer and we’ll get it all settled. Soon you’ll have your young bride and will be set.”
Holy shit, that fucking asshole!
He’s really going to sell me? Tomorrow? Knowing him, he’s probably trying to sell me off to one of his dealers. Then my mental words come back to me, making me wince, but at least I didn’t say them out loud. Not only would I have potentially given away the fact that I now know Preston’s plans, but I’ve always tried really hard not to curse. My dream job is to own and run my own daycare someday, and no one wants to hire a childcare provider that cusses up a storm around their children.
Preston’s words tumble around my brain and bile rises in my throat, but I push it down.
I need to pack.
Quickly, but quietly, I put the boards back in place, followed by the boxes. Standing, I grab my biggest duffle bag down off the top shelf and set it on my bed. Picking my backpack up off the floor, I empty its contents onto my bed. After topping off my wallet, I put the coffee tin in my backpack, followed by the folder, notebooks, laptop and its charger.
My gaze frantically sweeps around my room, looking for things I’ll need. All the while, my mind tries to figure out the best way to pack them so I’m not carrying a bunch of bags.
Clothes.
Need to pack those first since they’ll take up the most space. A week’s worth should get me by long enough. Once I find a place to stay, I’ll buy some better clothing. I’ve always purposely stuck to thrift stores for all of my clothes and shoes. If I suddenly came home with better things, I would have been busted for working so much and then the lie about my age would have come to light.
On top of my piles of clothes, I put in a couple of my favorite pairs of shoes and my makeup bag. Our bathroom is tiny so I’ve usually done my hair in there, since the outlets in here don’t always work the greatest, and then do my makeup in my room.
Looking around my small room, I spot a couple of pictures from when I was a kid and pick them up, rubbing my thumb along the edges. They’re from back when it was just Mom and me. Back when, for the most part, we were both happy. I carefully slide them in between my clothes and hope that’s enough padding to protect them. Quickly, I gather a few other items that have sentimental value and pack them as well.
Once I think I have everything packed, I look around one more time and in all my drawers to make sure I have everything I need or want. My gaze snags on the rest of the money envelopes for groceries for this month and next month.
Screw it.
