Page 16 of Bleeding Hearts Duet

Back in Illinois, I was usually by myself. My mom preferred to feed her addictions away from the comfort of our single wide trailer, which was one thing I guess I could be grateful for. I didn’t have to see her in that state the majority of the time, only when she decided to drag herself home once or twice a week.

I thought when I moved to California, my whole life was going to be different. And in a lot of ways, it was. I had friends, a job, a nice apartment. And I didn’t have to deal with Norma-Jean. So why did the silence feel louder than ever?

There was no way in hell I could be homesick, but I knew what was really bothering me. I missed Brayden. And I felt guilty for all the things I had that he didn’t. Since I’d moved out here, I hadn’t been writing him as much either.

He’d been trying to put distance between us since he went away. But I’d fought him every step of the way. Until now. California was changing me.

I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my bed with a groan. I’d put it off long enough, and I wouldn’t feel right until I’d written him. So I pulled out my stationary and chewed on the pen while I allowed my mind to wander. Every weekend, without fail, I performed this heartbreaking ritual of trying to find the right words. Words that would bring Brayden a moment of happiness, no matter how small.

He didn’t have it easy in the Greenville Correctional Center. It turned out that even prison wasn’t immune to the local headlines. For a while, it got to the point where he was coming up with all sorts of excuses to explain the bruises or broken bones. Eventually, he gave up on trying to convince me.

When I got the apprenticeship, he told me this was where I needed to be. Out living my life as far away from Illinois as I could manage. But it didn’t feel right without him.

I reached into the top drawer of my dresser and retrieved the photo I kept hidden there. It was the last night that Brayden was home. The same night I met Ryland Bennett.

Brayden was smiling as he wrapped his arm around me in a display of brotherly affection, but the heaviness in his shoulders couldn’t be missed. For as long as I could remember, he’d had the weight of the world on those shoulders. He’d taken care of me since our dad skipped town and left us with a mother who couldn’t cope.

He was the responsible one. The one who never veered off the straight and narrow. He liked to have fun, but his family always came first. His responsibilities. That’s why I’d never been able to truly reconcile with what he’d done. I didn’t believe he could do something so stupid and reckless to cost three people’s lives. It wasn’t the Brayden I knew. But when I told him that, he said it was only what I wanted to believe. The newspapers didn’t have the same problem. They vilified him afterwards, making him out to be a complete monster. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing the person you thought was your hero was someone everyone hated.

It had changed him whether he wanted to admit it or not. Over the years, he’d grown harder. His eyes colder. And there was a chasm between us that hadn’t been there before. It grew bigger with every passing year, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I was afraid by the time Brayden got out, I wouldn’t recognize him at all.

My door creaked open, and Nicole poked her head in. I hadn’t even heard her come in. She glanced at the photo in my hands as she padded across the carpet and sat down on my bed.

“Is that Brayden?” she asked.

I nodded, a little caught off guard that she knew his name. I didn’t tell people about him because a part of me wanted to protect his identity. And now that I thought about it, I couldn’t recall ever telling her either.

“May I?” she gestured to the photo, and I handed it over reluctantly.

She studied it for a long time before handing it back, and when her eyes met mine, they were distant and cloudy. “He doesn’t look like you.”

It was the only thing she said before she got up and walked out of the room.

***

Saturday morning greeted me with a loud knocking on the front door, followed by a disheveled Nicole entering my room.

Her hair was mussed from sleep, and her eyebrows pinched together as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Some guy says he has a package for you,” she grumbled. “And he won’t let me sign for it.”

I crinkled my own brows in confusion as I glanced at the clock beside me. It was only seven am, and I certainly wasn’t expecting any packages. Nobody even knew I was at this address besides Brayden.

I flung myself out of bed and walked to the front door in zombie mode. When I opened it, there was a guy standing there with a manila envelope in his hand. But he sure as hell didn’t look like any kind of delivery man I’d ever seen before. He was wearing all black, including leather gloves, and his eyes were shrewd as they appraised me.

“Brighton Valentine?” he held the envelope towards me tentatively.

“Uh yeah?”

He shoved the envelope into my hand without another word and stomped off. It was definitely not a professional delivery, and when I glanced down at the envelope, my curiosity was piqued.

I shut the door and made it as far as the sofa before I tore it open and pulled out a stack of papers. Nicole was in the kitchen fumbling with the coffee pot, and I was glad for it when I saw what the note said.

I have the evidence that could exonerate Brayden

I flipped through the stack of paperwork in a state of disbelief as I realized I was being blackmailed. Inside this file were more documents from Brayden’s accident than I ever even knew existed. Half of them were blacked out, and the rest were already a matter of public record.

There was a report from a private investigator, along with photos I’d never seen before. They had dates and time-stamps, and even though the faces were blurry, I knew right away that one of the men was Brayden. They were grainy and appeared to be from some kind of CCTV footage. But the date and time stamp were what drew my attention. Because that was the day the accident happened. Brayden wasn’t alone that night, and this evidence proved it.

Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to collect this information and to make sure I couldn’t use it. As I read through the rest of the paperwork, a sickening clarity washed over me.

There was some sort of informal agreement in the back that stated the sender’s demands. As I read through it, all the blood drained from my face.

Complete control over your body and life for six months…

I read the words over and over again hoping I was somehow misunderstanding them. But by the tenth time, I knew I wasn’t.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asked, hovering over me with a furrowed brow. “You look pale.”

I shoved everything back into the envelope and nodded as she handed me a cup of coffee. Truthfully, I wasn’t okay. I would never be okay again.

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