Page 80 of Chasing Wildflowers
I had everything in life that I could need or want. Just to have it ripped away from me.
The GPS leads me off the main road, gravel crunching under my tires, as I follow the narrow path. I keep driving until a robotic voice tells me I’ve arrived at my destination. I turn into the long, overgrown driveway, my headlights cutting through the darkness.
I stop when they land on an old, rundown house that looks like it's been abandoned for longer than I've been alive. Paint is peeling from the wood siding, the roof looks like it’s caving in, and the windows are all boarded up.
Easing forward, I park next to a sleek black car. My hands tremble as I cut the engine, my rapid heartbeat the only sound in the eerie quiet. My hands grip the steering wheel tightly as I take a few deep breaths. It does little to help the nerves coiled tightly through my body.
Once I walk into that house, that’s it. I know I won’t be coming out alive. Jameson will be safe. That’s all that matters.
With another deep breath, I grab the door handle and force myself out of the car. The soft glow of my flashlight cuts through the darkness, as my shoes crunch against the gravel; each step heavier than the last.
Be brave.
I repeat the words in my head as I step onto the decaying porch, the boards groaning loudly under my feet. The silent pep talk does nothing to stop the shake in my hand as it closes around the doorknob.
The door creaks open, and I step into a foyer lit only by a small lantern on the floor, its glow casting long shadows on the wall. The smell of mold and old, rotted wood hangs in the air, adding to the nausea coursing through my body.
I move slowly, keeping my footsteps light as I step deeper into the house, still using my phone to light my way. Stopping at what was once the living room, I slowly sweep my light across the empty space. Fadedwallpaper is curling off the walls, the floorboards are warped in places, a few of them sticking up.
It’s been a long time since this house has seen the love of a family, and now it’s going to be tainted with my blood.
After clearing the entire first floor and finding nothing, I go back to the foyer. I flash my light up the stairs, and swallow around the lump in my throat.
With my phone clenched tightly in my hand, I slowly creep up the stairs, trying to avoid as many creaking boards as I can. They squeak anyway, loudly announcing me to anyone in the house.
At the top I sweep my flashlight down both sides of the long hallway. Two doors to my right. Three to my left.
I take a deep breath and steel my shoulders, desperately trying to find the courage deep within me to make my feet move. My death lies behind one of those doors. My feet are lead as I walk to the first door on my right and push it open. The room is completely empty except for an ugly shag rug and faded paint.
“Hello, Ceciley.” I hear from behind me, low and unmistakably cruel.
Every muscle in my body locks up.
No. No fucking way.
I whip around, coming face to face with my nightmare.
Byron.
His hand is raised, fingers wrapped around a gun, the same cruel smirk tugging at his lips. The blow lands before I can react, white hot pain exploding across my face, and I hit the ground.
He crouches beside me, eyes hard. “Did you miss me?”
My head throbs and my mind is trying to wrap itself around what is happening. I try to sit up but he pushes me back down with a hand on my chest and pulls something I can’t see from his pocket.
There’s a sharp prick in the side of my neck. My last thought as darkness takes me is of the life with Jameson I will never have.
Thirty-four
Jameson
My hand tightens around my phone as I stare down at the picture of Lane’s letter mom sent.
Jameson,
I’m sorry I had to break my promise and leave the house. But it’s my turn to protect you, like you have protected me. I love you, and I hope you forgive me.
Love always,
