Chapter 5 #2
I look down at my navy blue wraparound dress.
When Blaire bought it for me, I loved it, but once I tried it on and saw how much skin it showed, I knew my mother would never approve, so I’ve never worn it out…
until now. It shows enough cleavage and leg to be deemed inappropriate—by my mother’s standards.
I take a calming breath, so I don’t snap at her.
I stayed so I could speak to her about what Stephen told me.
My brother wouldn’t make something like that up, and while he might not have wanted to confront my mom in fear of destroying our family, he’s no longer alive, and I’m not about to let her secret die with Stephen.
My entire life, my mother has been hiding her true colors while forcing me to dim mine.
I’m done living in a world of black and white.
Stephen was right. It’s time to live my life for me, and I’m going to make sure my colors shine bright.
Stephen’s last words run through my head and something in me snaps.
Life is too short to not be happy, Nevaeh.
Starting today…starting this very moment, I’m going to live for me.
No more thinking about it. No more telling myself I will start to live soon.
I’m going to do what I want and be who I want.
Starting now. I’m done being who everybody else wants me to be.
I’m done praying to a God who allowed my brother to die.
I’m done living my life for a mom who has been keeping secrets and hiding her flaws and imperfections from her family.
Judging those around her while keeping her own sins buried so deep underground, nobody stands a chance at digging them out.
I’m done. Stephen was right. Life is too short, way too damn short, and I’m going to make sure when I die, I can say I actually lived.
And if my mother has a problem with that…
well, she can just go you-know-what herself.
No! Fuck that. I can say it…or think it… Fuck! She can go fuck herself!
My dad walks over and gives me a kiss on my forehead, and for a split second I almost feel guilty for what I’m about to do.
“Hey, sweetie,” he says. “I missed you this morning. Everything okay?”
Before I can answer him, another friend of his walks over and pats him on his shoulder. “Edward, can I steal you away for a moment? I wanted to talk to you about the church’s insurance.” My dad is an insurance agent and does business with most of the people who belong to this church.
“Sure, Stan.” He turns back to me. “Talk later?”
I nod once and smile tightly. Once he’s far enough away not to hear, I turn back to my mom and say, “I need to talk to you.”
“What is it, Nevaeh?” she snaps. “I think it would be best if you slip back out.” Her eyes judgingly scan down my body for a second time. “We don’t want people to get the wrong idea about you. We can talk tonight at dinner.”
“Mom!” I say a bit too loudly, suddenly furious. Her eyes widen in shock, but I keep talking, not giving her a chance to say anything else. “Have you always been religious?”
She freezes in place. “Of course I have always believed in God. What’s going on with you?”
“I—what I mean is”—I take a deep breath—“was there ever a time you didn’t live your life according to the Bible?
” I want to give her a chance to come clean on her own.
Tell me the truth about who she really was back then.
It won’t change how I feel at this point, but it will gain her back some points in respect.
“Nevaeh! That’s enough!”
“Just tell me,” I command. I could easily throw Stephen’s words in her face. Tell her about the diary he found. But I want her to own up to it on her own. It’s time she takes some ownership of her actions.
“Now is not the time or place to discuss this. Please go home and change your clothes. You look like a whore,” she whisper-yells, and I’m taken aback by her choice of words. My mom never talks like that.
“There is nothing wrong with this dress. It covers me completely, and how dare you call me that!” Especially when you were the one whoring yourself around when you were younger, I think but don’t say.
“Nevaeh, go home.”
“No! Answer me.”
“Was this your brother’s doing? Did he corrupt your thoughts? I knew he would eventually do this. We’ll talk about your inappropriate behavior later when we’re alone.”
At the mention of my brother, my heart constricts. She has no idea her son is dead and never coming back. And for a brief moment, I almost feel guilty for further destroying our family. But then I once again remember Stephen’s final words to me, and I know this is necessary.
“Fine,” I say, my thoughts of Stephen causing me to become emotional.
It feels like I haven’t even had time to mourn the loss of my brother yet.
I’m numb, simply going through the motions.
“I’ll see you at your house, but this conversation isn’t over.
” I turn on my heel and walk out of the church without waiting for her to respond.
Opening the doors to the church, the bright sun momentarily blinds me, and before I can adjust my eyes, a heavy piece of material goes over my head and a hand covers my mouth, as I’m lifted off the ground. I try to kick and scream, but the hand covering my mouth successfully keeps me silent.
A few moments later, I’m being dropped onto a hard surface and then my hands are bound together behind my back with what feels like rope.
I try to scream as loud as I can, but the second the sound of something slamming shut hits my ears, I know it’s fruitless.
I can’t be sure, but I’m almost positive I’m in a trunk.
And then the sound of an engine roars to life, the vehicle jolting forward, and my suspicions are confirmed. I’ve been kidnapped, thrown into a trunk, and am being taken to God knows where.
Using my feet and bound hands, I try to feel around. For what, I don’t know. The trunk is very small and I can’t feel anything but the hard surface I’m lying on.
Unable to do anything at the moment, my brain goes into overdrive.
Stephen was killed less than forty-eight hours ago, and now I’ve been taken.
I have no phone, no way of letting anyone know what’s happened, and my last conversation with my mom was us arguing, so she’s going to assume I’m just ignoring her.
My parents are about to lose both their children and they don’t even know it.
There’s no way whoever took me is going to keep me alive.
It can’t be a coincidence I was taken shortly after I saw my brother lying dead on his living room floor.
I’m about to be killed.
I can only hope he kills me quickly like he did to my brother.
And then a sad thought occurs to me: I’m going to die before I’ve even lived.
I’m not sure why I think of that right now.
Maybe it’s kind of like when people say the moment before they die, their life flashes before their eyes.
Only I don’t really have much to flash. My thoughts go to my list tucked away in my drawer.
Only a couple items crossed off. The easy ones.
The ones my mom would be proud of. Except the last few, like getting drunk at the club and kissing a stranger.
Those were for me. Those were me finally living.
And now I’ll never have a chance to do the rest.
The vehicle comes to a stop, the engine silencing, and then bright lights appear. I can’t see because of the sack on my head, but it’s bright enough, the lights shine through.
“Let’s go,” a gruff voice demands as hands grip my arms and I’m dragged out of the trunk. My legs are scratched against the edge of the bumper and I cry out.
“Help!” I scream, hoping to draw the attention of someone nearby.
“Shut the fuck up,” the man commands, gripping my tied wrists with one of his hands and covering my mouth over the material with the other, as he pushes me along blindly.
I stumble up a step and then another. A dangle of what sounds like keys hits my ears, and then we enter air conditioning. We’re indoors. He’s going to kill me. Just like he killed my brother.
The door slams closed and he continues to push me along. He lets go of my mouth and I scream again, even though it’s pointless.
“If you keep that shit up, I’m going to duct tape your mouth,” he threatens, and I immediately stop screaming. “That’s what I thought.”
There’s a pulling on my wrists and then I’m pushed onto the ground.
The material covering my face lifts, and I come face-to-face with the man who more than likely killed my brother.
Blond, neatly trimmed hair, blue eyes, and a face, so gorgeous that, in a different situation, would have the ability to take my breath away.
He looks like the all-American boy next door—but I know different.
“Are you going to kill me?” I blurt out.
He smirks. It’s smarmy, and everything I thought was gorgeous about him is instantly ugly. “Hell no,” he says with a shake of his head. “You’re no use to me dead.”
I’m no use to him dead? What the heck does that mean?
“Please let me go,” I beg. “I won’t tell anyone you took me. I promise,” I lie.
He snorts out a laugh. “Oh, I’m going to let you go all right. You’re being sold to the highest bidder. Your no-good, piece of shit brother owes me a shit ton of money, and you’re going to get it all back for me.”
His words remind me that Stephen is dead. He’s gone and never coming back.
“My brother was a good man,” I argue, tears pricking my eyes.
“Your brother was a corrupt fucking cop,” he volleys.
“You killed him,” I accuse. “You’re a murderer.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I spit in his face. His eyes widen and then his hand comes up and backhands me. My head jerks to the side, my cheek burning in pain.
“Your brother got what was coming to him,” he hisses.