Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The first night here, I slept like a baby.
I think it’s because I was exhausted from all the emotions.
The second night didn’t go so well. I could have sworn someone was watching me.
I checked every single corner and crack in this guest house.
My search came up empty-handed, but the feeling wouldn’t go away and it’s still here two days later.
What’s sad is that I’ve been home for four days now, and I haven’t seen my mother once. Then again, if I’m not around her, she can’t throw insults toward me. There’s also another upside to this. I’ve been able to terrorize the sheriff without interference.
The day after he brought me home, I went into town after midnight and egged the front door of the police station. I know it’s childish, but it’s the only fun I’ve had since being home.
Yesterday, I rigged the fire alarm at the courthouse to go off every time someone opened the door to the courtroom.
It was ingenious for the entertainment value.
It kept the police department and fire department on their toes.
Not to mention, seeing my mother scrambling out of the building was a bonus.
I chalk this behavior up to the fact that I want my mother’s attention and, unfortunately, this is the only way I know how to get it.
Alright, I might as well be honest, it’s also a way for me to ignore how the sheriff makes me feel.
Those emotions are too damn close to the heart, and I don’t do emotions well.
Tonight, I’m spray painting a pig on the side of the police station where it’s in full view for every passerby. That’s not all. I’m also painting a devil on the mayor’s building. If this isn’t the icing on the cake, I’m not sure what is.
The last time I was here, there were no cameras, so I know they won’t know who did this. My mother is going to be raging mad, but do I care?
Not one bit.
The beautiful feeling of defacing my mother’s building makes me happy. So, fucking happy. I put extra care into making this painting perfect because I want her to notice. It’s disgusting how much I want her to acknowledge me.
Shaking off the unnerving thoughts, I gather my shit. Once I’m finished, I slip back to the mansion and into the guest house. I’m not expecting to see my mother. She’s standing in the living room with her nose scrunched up in distaste.
“Mom,” I say softly to myself, my heart beating faster. The urge for a hug is sharp and I force myself to stay rooted to my spot. She doesn’t hear me and I’m glad for it. The slip up of saying ‘Mom’ would have set her off. She’s a mother and only mother. I’ve been reminded of that a million times.
“You haven’t been back for more than a week and already you have this place looking like a tornado came through.” Her harsh words eat at me, and I instantly have the urge to apologize. I hate it.
I look around and see one blanket on the couch not folded and a can of 7 Up sitting on the table. This is a tornado zone? I don’t say a word about how I feel. Instead, I play it cool.
“Hello, Mother. It’s so nice of you to grace me with your presence.” I step toward her, but her hand comes out in a fast slap. My cheek throbs and I bite my tongue to keep from crying out.
“Don’t come near me, Othella. If I recall correctly, I didn’t invite you here. Did you forget that?” She grabs my hair and forces me to look at her. This time, the tears do well up, and I swallow down the bile in my throat. Why does she hate me so much?
“I sent you away for a reason. Your stupid father insisted we adopt you, even though I was against it.”
My mother can be cruel, but she’s never been like this. I look into her eyes, and I see the hate. She’s been drinking, which means she won’t remember this in the morning.
“Mother, I wanted to spend time with you… it’s Thanksgiving.”
After all these years, I’m still trying to get into her good graces. Everything I’ve done has been to please her. Nothing ever does. Not since my father passed away.
“Well, I didn’t pick you up from the airport. That should have been your first clue.”
Her words sting as she pulls me around by my hair. “You win. I’ll leave tomorrow morning,” I say through gritted teeth. If I don’t do exactly what she wants, she’ll yank harder on my hair and I’m not sure I could handle it.
At least, I plan on leaving. But first, I want to see her reaction to my art skills.
“See that you do, or it will force me to have Clyde take care of you.”
I hold in a shudder as I think about the last time he dealt with me.
She leaves the guest house, and I lock the door.
Although, I’m sure there are plenty of keys that will allow anyone access to me.
Still, I check all the windows, too. I find them locked and secured, but don’t feel at peace.
I tremble as I touch my stomach. The memory assaults me as my eyes close. I’m so damn tired of trying.
“Good girls don’t get punished,” my mother says as she puts me in a room I’ve never been in before. “Maybe after this you’ll learn to follow orders.”
The door slams, and I rush to open it before I hear the lock engage. “Mother, please, it’s my birthday. I didn’t mean to smart off.”
It was more than smarting off. So much more. I tremble as I hear rustling within the room. It’s pitch black in here, and I wonder what’s going on.
“Hello?”
A low chuckle greets me, and I see Clyde standing at the window as he turns on the light.
“Oh, it’s you.” Clyde has always been a good person to me. He listens to what I say and never judges. I walk over to him, and he grabs me.
“You really should have listened to your mother,” he taunts me. This isn’t my Clyde. My Clyde would never act like this.
“You’re hurting me, Clyde. What are you…”
I jerk from the dream as the alarm clock beeps at me.
Ugh, I can’t believe it’s morning already.
Getting out of bed, I grumble about it being cold.
Pressing the button on the Keurig, I make my coffee and turn on the television.
I see my mother looking pissed as the city workers try to get the paint off the building.
A knock on the door interrupts my moment of pure joy. Shit, I hope it isn’t the security team. Turning off the television, I look at the clock. It’s seven in the morning. Who’s here?
Opening the door, I groan. It’s the sheriff smirking at me. Surely, he doesn’t know it was me, does he?
“Looks like you forgot something.” His deep, sexy as sin voice washes over me, and I blush as he looks up and down my body.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I arch an eyebrow at him. My mind goes crazy thinking I might have missed a paint can or something.
He laughs and steps closer to me. “Your robe.”
I look down at what I’m wearing, and I gasp. My nipples are hard, and I can see them through my silk gown. “Damn it.” I rush to the couch and throw a blanket around me. “What do you want, exactly?”
“I’m here to escort you to the police station.” He’s walking toward me, crowding me against the couch. Taking a deep breath, I have to believe he really doesn’t know it’s me that did the vandalism.
“Um, no thanks,” I sass him, trying to deflect away from my nerves running awry.
I peek at him, and he’s laughing. He’s fucking laughing at me. “Well, you don’t have a choice, Othella.”
Bristling, I move away from him and fall to the couch. “I always have a choice,” I snarl. The need to get away from him courses through me.
“Not this time, ladybug. It seems I have you on tape vandalizing your mother’s building.”
What? When did they get cameras? “Your point?”
Sighing, he sits down next to me. “You committed a crime. Unfortunately, you are under arrest.” That stern tone of his does crazy things to me. The way he tells me I’m under arrest makes my temperature rise.
Ignoring that, I huff. “Sorry, I’m too busy to be under arrest.”