Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Isla
When I finally arrived at the bottom of the stairs, I nearly tasted freedom.
All I had to do was climb out of the rectangular window at the bottom corner to my left.
It was maybe fifteen, twenty feet in front of me, and it led to the side of the house.
The window was narrow, but I’d make myself fit. It was the only hope I had left.
It wasn’t until my world as I knew it was shattered through a choked whisper of, “Oh fuck…” that I realized my life had proven to be one big cruel masterpiece.
Smeared with bright, vibrant colors of intricate beauty yet laced with stark black-and-white shadows of darkness.
However, it wasn’t his words that stopped me dead in my tracks.
It was the raw, unsettling pitch in his voice that rendered me frozen where I stood.
In what felt like slow motion, I slowly spun back around and witnessed a disturbing scene that would forever haunt me.
A silent scream jammed in my throat as my hand clamped over my mouth and my breathing hitched in a loud gasp.
Then it was the piercing, sudden stillness of the basement with a sickening thump that followed… and another and another and another.
Thump…
Thump…
Thump…
THWACK!
Mr. Bates's body cartwheeled down the stairs in a crippling fall. There was no mistaking the sounds of his bones breaking. Each one snapping worse than the one prior. Each one louder, harder, more tormenting.
Until one last…
CRACK!
The rigorous sound echoed.
So blunt.
So final.
So cutthroat.
“Loyd!” His wife’s strained and frightened tone shredded through the dead-silent air between us.
There at my feet was Mr. Bates’s motionless body, staring right up at me. I jolted back in shock, yet nothing could have prepared me for the sudden presence of death that hung heavy in the wide-open space.
Is he dead?
“Look what you did!” Mrs. Bates screamed by the basement door, never taking her eyes off him.
Me?
I frantically shook my head, stepping back farther with my arms out in front of me.
In another strained voice, she coaxed, “Loyd...”
He didn’t stir.
Not a movement.
Not a breath.
Not an inch.
It wasn’t just his neck twisted at an unnatural angle that attacked my vision. It was his collarbone that was sticking out of his skin in such a way that made me sick to my stomach.
Still, from the top of the stairs, Mrs. Bates seethed, “You stupid bitch! What did you do?!”
Did I kill him?
Am I a murderer?
In true Isla Fox form, my body catapulted into autopilot.
It shot toward the window as if I were a deadly bullet fired out of the barrel of a hot and heavy gun.
And like a bullet, my foot broke the glass, shattering the window into shards before I quickly dropped to my knees.
With the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I didn’t feel any of the cuts ripping into my skin as I crawled through the tiny opening.
“Loyd, baby…”
When her erratic footsteps seemed closer to me, I rammed myself headfirst, not giving a shit about the sharp pieces of glass that clung to the edges of the metal frame.
As I tore through, cutting up my clothes and flesh, the frigid, bitter New York breeze began to kiss my face.
Maybe it was an angel giving me strength.
But with one hard grip, Mrs. Bates yanked my foot back, and I almost lost my balance on a piece of glass sticking up off the frame.
Instead of my stomach slicing open, my arm took the brutal impact.
A loud, tortured shriek escaped from deep within my lungs, and I immediately felt nauseous again.
Or maybe it never stopped. My heart dropped, and my blood ran cold.
I had to keep going.
I couldn’t give up.
The consequences were life and death, and I refused to stay trapped in there with her and her wicked husband’s soul.
Our eyes connected. Hers were laced with this strong, blazing expression I’d never seen before.
This mask of fury and hatred glared back at me, searing into my memory.
I stayed lost in her gaze until the neighbor’s dog started barking, and it was enough to break my trance.
Struggling my way back to freedom, I roughly dug my nails into the grass and dirt below me, clawing my way out. My desperate attempts were much too slow, and I was unable to get away fast enough.
For the first time, I consciously did the opposite of fleeing.
I fought.
Finding power in the core of my being, I viciously kicked her face in with the leg she wasn’t holding hostage.
“You fuc—” I kicked her again.
And again.
And again.
I kicked her until I heard another bone crack. I kicked her until I couldn’t see anything but blood on her face. I kicked her until she was shouting, “Stop, you bitch!”
I didn’t.
Instead, I kicked her until she finally let go of my leg.
I didn’t waste any time, scrambling out of that extremely tiny window.
Every muscle in my body screamed in exhaustion as I lost more and more blood.
Nonetheless, my survival instincts roared louder, propelling me forward onto the cold, hard concrete outside.
I hit the grass and dirt with a painful blow, rolling away from that window.
The icy night air was a shock to my system, but I was determined to put as much distance as possible between me and that basement.
My movements were clumsy and tiresome from the consequences of it all as I wobbled to my unsteady feet.
The dog continued to bark, probably freaking out at the sight of me.
I stood there with my hands on my knees, trying to find my sanity and my breath. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding, and I swear you could hear it down the street. It rang in my ears, echoing off the brick homes.
The only thing I knew to be certain was that I’d never be able to go back into foster care.
This marked the end of that era and the beginning of my new life, where I was truly alone.
I was only sixteen years old, and now I had no roof over my head.
No job security. I attended an online high school since I was constantly being moved around, and I only had a few dollars to my name. I was royally screwed.
All these thoughts flooded my mind, and just in the nick of time, my body defaulted to plain old instincts.
Flight.
With absolutely no idea where I was going, I simply sprinted toward some sort of finale, unfamiliar with anything around me.
I’d only been with the Bates for the past month.
I didn’t have an ID card and didn’t know my Social Security number.
I had no birth certificate. No documents for this new life I was abruptly thrown into, like yesterday’s trash.
The only possessions I owned were in my backpack.
There were some clothes, a pair of sneakers, a hairbrush, and a few other random necessities.
Though safely tucked in the front pocket were my most prized possessions, an old MP3 player with a set of white wire headphones that I randomly found in a box of donations ages ago.
I never expected how much I’d end up cherishing the music that was already downloaded on that device.
Especially the orchestra pieces. I listened to them to memorize the feelings they stirred.
I listened until it felt like the instruments were speaking for me.
I listened until the pain and loneliness melted away.
All the emotions I couldn’t discuss with anyone weren’t a problem anymore.
I was ten when I found that MP3 player, and for the first time, it felt as if something was mine and no one could take it away from me. If I somehow lost it, the songs would forever live inside me…
It kept me warm on the nights I was freezing.
It kept me fed on the days I was starving.
Most of all, it kept me loved when I didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Faster and faster I ran, praying I wouldn’t run right into the cops’ hands. There was no explanation for what had just happened.
To me.
To them.
To anyone.
This was a secret I’d share with no one.
My thoughts raced at the same speed I was charging through what seemed to be a subway. Mr. Bates’s lifeless body flashed in the forefront of my mind, and I shook the image away.
While a frantic whisper echoed in my thoughts… It was an accident, right?
I wasn’t a murderer.
Am I?
My legs burned.
My lungs ached.
My body yearned to give up. Maybe I’d lost too much blood.
None of those ailments stopped the agonizing questions screaming in my head.
I pushed myself to keep going, one tormented step after another, and I ran toward safety.
With the fresh air filling my lungs like a lifeline, I didn’t halt until I burst through the main entrance of the subway station and found a secluded wall to lean against.
I was still badly bleeding, staring at the graffiti, seeing if it would tell me what to do, where to go, and how to get there.
My mind was a never-ending scramble, each thought more confusing than the last. And just as hopelessness threatened to devour me whole, a soft, faint sound of comfort sailed through the chaos.
The melody of a piano saved me from myself.