Sequel: Halfway There ›
Almost Gone
Chapter Twenty-One
I heard the phone call, saw the files on the countertop. There was no hiding now. I held up the notebook, feeling tears sting my eyes. I didn’t want people to know that kind of stuff. It was personal. Too personal. I knew he’d find more than just adoption stuff, but I didn’t want to watch anyone read that.
I recognized Mac and Chase, their faces were glued to my memory. I glare at the two, watching as they took a step back. A million cuss words went through my mind just at the sight of them. But I chose to mouth them, the words, “Damn you.”
I saw their eyes go wide, probably not expecting me to remember them. I roll my eyes, writing down a message just for them, I remember. They tensed as they read, and I smirk.
“Not very lady-like, are we?”, Chase says, rolling his eyes.
Go to hell.
“Now, now. Temper.”
Think I care?
“You frickin’ should,” Mac growls. I smirk, shaking my head.
Where’s your whore? I scribble sloppily. Mac glares fiercer at me, making me smug. I know more than you think, Mac.
“Like what?”
Like that you’ve gone to jail for rape.
“Frickin’ whore,” he growls.
That’s what they call me. I write smugly, rolling my eyes. I was used to being called that since I was five, nothing new. I walk away, bored of the encounter with my kidnappers.
“Why don’t you frickin’ talk, slut!”, Mac yells after me. I stopped in the doorway, taking in a shaky breath.
Because I can’t.
“I’ve read your files.”
Then you know why. And I was running after that. I didn’t want to relive those kinds of memories. The memories that haunt me in my nightmares, that I refuse to believe actually happened, even though I know they did.
I recognized Mac and Chase, their faces were glued to my memory. I glare at the two, watching as they took a step back. A million cuss words went through my mind just at the sight of them. But I chose to mouth them, the words, “Damn you.”
I saw their eyes go wide, probably not expecting me to remember them. I roll my eyes, writing down a message just for them, I remember. They tensed as they read, and I smirk.
“Not very lady-like, are we?”, Chase says, rolling his eyes.
Go to hell.
“Now, now. Temper.”
Think I care?
“You frickin’ should,” Mac growls. I smirk, shaking my head.
Where’s your whore? I scribble sloppily. Mac glares fiercer at me, making me smug. I know more than you think, Mac.
“Like what?”
Like that you’ve gone to jail for rape.
“Frickin’ whore,” he growls.
That’s what they call me. I write smugly, rolling my eyes. I was used to being called that since I was five, nothing new. I walk away, bored of the encounter with my kidnappers.
“Why don’t you frickin’ talk, slut!”, Mac yells after me. I stopped in the doorway, taking in a shaky breath.
Because I can’t.
“I’ve read your files.”
Then you know why. And I was running after that. I didn’t want to relive those kinds of memories. The memories that haunt me in my nightmares, that I refuse to believe actually happened, even though I know they did.