Page 16 of Pocketful of You

Romi

When the door of my temporary jail cell flew inward in the middle of the night, and my father stepped inside, I knew trouble was brewing.

Forget trouble brewing, a tornado was about to blow my world down.

Countless days had passed since our last encounter and I felt like I was looking into the face of a stranger, not the man who'd raised me.

Barefoot, filthy, and still wearing nothing but Sketch's oversized t-shirt, I was dragged from my cell and roughly transported from the haulage liner to an awaiting speedboat.

"Where are we going?" I asked, teeth chattering from the night air as it whipped at my face. We were all alone on the speedboat and I was hoping this was my opportunity to get through to him. "Dad?"

"Don’t speak," he barked, not looking in my direction.

Shivering, I wrapped my arms around my body and looked up at the stars as waves chopped and crashed against the sides of the boat.

Chris, I mentally whispered,I'm really sorry, but I think I'm going to be joining you tonight.Look over Sketch for me.

A lone tear trickled down my cheek at the thought. When I reached a finger up to wipe it away, I caught sight of lights in the near distance.

A boat.

No, not a boat.

Aship.

Not just any ship.

The one from my dreams.

Stop, Romi.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t remember…

I watched in a semi-state of horror as my father steered us towards it. "Turn back," I begged, unable to stop the tears from falling now. "Don't do this." Panic rose inside of me. "If you're going to trade me off or keep me locked up like you did Sketch, then I'd rather die."

Silence.

"Dad!" I barked out a harsh sob and jerked to my feet, swaying unsteadily, as the boat moved closer to what I presumed was my demise. "Let me go."

"Sit down," was all my father replied.

"And wait for you to what? Trade me off? Kill me?" I choked out a hysterical laugh. "Go fuck yourself."

His face took on an expression of pure fury. "Ramona –"

"I mean it, Dad," I screamed back at him, hands balled into fists at my sides. "I'd rather die!"

And with that confession off my chest, I threw myself overboard.

8

Presley

Hands down, I was having both a rare and wonderful day. After the last few weeks of drama, I felt like I had come through hell and entered heaven. And in this particular Quinton-version of heaven, I had been taken up the Coloradan mountainside by two glorious looking men, deposited inside a fancy-pants manor hidden away in the hills, where I was now currently wedged on a luxurious, leather couch between said men – who didn’t look like they wanted to kill me.

See?

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