Chapter eight
I peek out the curtain in the living room. They're still here, parked all along the edge of our property. Hundreds if not thousands of them. Reporters, paparazzi, fan girls and who knows what else. The edge of our yard has become a memorial to Ben. Flowers, signs, and candles are piled up all dedicated in loving memory to a man none of them really knew.
None of them knew the gentle person under his playboy persona. None of them knew Ben, they saw Prince Ben, the phenomenon of the moment. Cold burning rage wells up inside me as I look at them. News vans with their antennae, paparazzi with their cameras, girls crying over a man they never knew. What right do they have to him!
I haven't left the house in three days. The police come and go, bringing reports of the search efforts but each visit brings less hope of recovery. They haven't even found his body. They've identified those they've found and Ben isn't among them. He's still missing in shark infested waters. No one believes he could have survived it. At least three people are unaccounted for but a storm is moving in and they won't keep searching past its arrival.
I contacted my Father but he still hasn't returned the call. He's in a rehab clinic and they may be blocking him from this news. So I'm on my own. Alone, trapped in this house. Yesterday I went out the back door hoping to get some fresh air and a reporter jumped the fence. His camera flashed as he rushed me shouting his questions. It was terrifying. The worst part is I have no idea if he was really a reporter or just some crazy trying to get close to the tragedy. Hoping to grab some memorabilia to sell on the internet. The news has been reporting on the insane prices that Prince Ben memorabilia is bringing currently and I'm sure most of it's fake. Some people are getting very rich off this tragedy.
I walk back into his bedroom. Standing there staring at his perfectly made bed the empty ache in my stomach throbs. I miss him so much. I walk over and climb in his bed pulling his covers over me. The scent of him fills my head. I close my eyes and imagine I can feel his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me tight, pulling me back against him.
Memories come back unbidden as I recall laying like this with him. The night he'd kicked that girl out he'd held me tight still naked. I could feel him pressing hard against me. I'd wanted to do more, to know what he felt like, but it was too wrong. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. We'd never crossed that line.
I can't believe he's gone. I don't feel like he's dead. Even after he left, I could feel him out there in the world. I can't figure out why the world hasn't stopped spinning if he's not in it. If he's gone, what's the point?
The doorbell rings. I should answer it but it's probably just more reporters. I don't want to deal with them. I don't want anyone to see me like this. I feel like a total wreck.
I hear Esmeralda answer it and she's talking to someone but I can't bring myself to climb out of his bed. Here I'm surrounded by him. Here I'm safe. He can't leave me. He can't leave again.
"Miss Victoria!" Esmeralda yells her voice cracking at the high pitch.
Reluctantly I climb out of the bed just as she yells again. My feet feel heavy, my legs wooden, it's hard to make my way out of his room. She's yelling again. Good god woman I'm coming.
I make my way down the hallway and the same two detectives who've been reporting to me daily stand in the foyer. Something's changed though, I see it in their demeanor. There's a glimmer of hope instead of the expected apathy.
"Miss Brandt," the lead detective says.
"Yes?" I ask not daring to hope.
"We've located your brother," he says his face breaking into a broad smile.
"He's dehydrated but okay. He's alive Miss Brandt!"
I feel like I'm moving through water. I look from one detective to the other, afraid to believe I heard them right. I can't take more heartbreak.
"He's alive?"
"Yes Ma'am. Your brother is a hero, he saved two other passengers. They were floating in a small raft miles away from the wreck."
"But he's alive?" I say dumbly.
"Yes Ma'am."
"When can I see him? Take me to him ..."
Everything jumps back to normal time. I want to see him. The last three days I believed him dead. I have to see him, to touch him.
"He'll be home in a couple of hours. The medics are giving him some fluids and the investigators are asking some questions."
I close my eyes inhaling deeply. "Thank God," I exhale.