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But I know that Spencer will take care of my boy. The truth is that I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to Spence because of me. In the end, Aiden would end up losing his mom to grief and then I would have failed twice. So this is the only option. I trade myself so that Spencer can come home and take care of Aiden. I can do that and know with one hundred percent clarity that Spencer will step up and give AIden the parental figure he deserves.
Dakota:I need to know he's alive.
The picture comes through almost immediately and has a sob climbing up my throat. My big brother is on his knees, hands tied behind his back, with today's New York newspaper stapled to his bare chest.
Stapled. To. His. Chest.
His entire face is swollen and bloody like Rodrigo used him as his own personal punching bag. If I didn’t know my brother so well, I might not have even recognized him.
If I wasn’t sitting down I would have fallen to the ground from the weight of this knowledge. Bile rises in my throat as I stare at my brother and realize that this is it. He finally won. Any fight that I had left inside of me just…drains away. A sort of sadistic calm takes over at the realization that it’s over. There’s nothing left for me to fight or run from.
Dakota:Me for him. But he needs to be alive.
Spence:Of course, little traitor. You come to me willingly and I will release your brother.
Dakota:Where?
Spence:I’ll be in touch soon. Remember, you tell your guard dogs and I’ll be sending you Spencer in pieces.Don’t test me. You won’t like what happens.
My body is physically shaking with rage and frustration and sadness. How is it possible that one man can continue to take from me? After everything that I have done to get better…to make a good life for my son. He just comes in and takes it like it means nothing. You hear stories about psychopaths or serial killers, but being in one’s web is so much worse than the stories. He does nothing but suck out the good in life, turning it into venom for his own sick gain.
Closing my eyes I decide that it’s time to be strong for my brother. Nine years of him protecting me and loving my son. The least I can do is put him about myself. So despite how badly I want to run out of this room and go to Wolf and beg for help…I won't. I'll shove it all down like I usually do and wait for Rodrigo to tell me where to go.
???
Like I do every single time the world starts to feel like too much, I find myself crawling into my closet and pulling out my box. I run my hands over the intricate flowers that are carved into the wood and the weight on my chest slowly lifts. For a minute, everything is okay.
Opening it I sift until I find a letter from the early days, before I realized I was in love with Damian. The earlier letters are filled with silly facts about ourselves and funny stories from things we did with our friends. But I treasure those so much. We were soyoung and innocent and full of hope. Our friendship was born of nothing more than a desire to know each other. It was pure and innocent. I think that’s why the earlier day’s give me so much peace. It’s like I can dive back in time and immerse myself in the pure weightless air.
Slowly, I slide the letter out of the envelope as tears flood my eyes
04 August, 2014
Bre,
I can't believe I finally convinced you to send me your gamer tag. I’ve been a total wuss and I haven’t added you yet. Yeah that's right, I’m admitting my newest weakness.
There's something pretty nerve-wracking about you hearing my voice for the first time. What if you hate it? Or think it's annoying?
You have to promise not to ghost me after you hear my voice ok?
Okay, enough whining. Dude, my best friend went on a date with this senior, and they went all the way. I can’t stop laughing at his stupid happy face. It kind of makes me jealous ya know?
Have you…ya know? Done IT yet. ;)
I haven't. Call me lame but I kind of want to wait for someone who matters.
XO,
Dam
I chuckle as I read his letter, just imagining him speaking it out loud. What I didn't know when I received this letter was that I would love his voice. He had a very slight Texan accent and he was so funny. He used to make these silly voices on the games and tell me stories about his best friend. A couple of times his best friend would hop on and game with us. He was nice and knew about my friendship with Dam. It was so…welcoming to be able to hang out with them and laugh.
We spent hours upon hours talking. He never needed to be worried or nervous about me hearing his voice. Truth is that I loved him before I ever heard him utter a word. I don’t necessarily pine after him. It’s more that I grieve the loss of my best friend…of the boy who had supported me and loved me without asking for anything in return.
I glide my finger over the writing and close my eyes as I try to envision what he must have looked like writing to me. In my head, I've decided he was tall and broad, and that when he wrote this he was sitting on his bed and chuckling. I bet he was leaning back against his headboard and writing it while his best friend was in the room. Those two basically lived together.
But I’ll never know that ya know? Despite the image in my head, I will never get to know what my best friend looked like or how he smiled. I’ll never get to see his face light up with joy when he laughs or see the mischievous look in his eye when he pokes fun at me.
