18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

IZEL

I sit idle, gazing out at the forgotten garden, lost in my thoughts. My mind keeps replaying the sensation of Richard’s fingers on my body, a memory that’s become an unexpected source of happiness. For the first time in a long while, I’m in a happy mood, and I savor the rare feeling of contentment.

Just as I’m about to immerse myself in those pleasurable memories, the front door swings open, and Luna walks in. Richard had mentioned that she had to go out for work, which is why I’d spent the day at the FBI office instead of his home.

Luna settles on the couch, and something is different. She is no longer cheerful but rather serious.

“We need to talk.”

I’m not in the mood for a serious conversation, and I brush it off with a casual, “No,” as I get up from the couch, heading towards my room. I have no intention of spoiling my newfound happiness.

But Luna isn’t one to be brushed aside. She continues, “Remember when I mentioned that my dad was a cop?”

I shake my head, feigning disinterest in her family history. But then she drops a bombshell that freezes me in my tracks.

“He was a cop in Hollowbrook.”

The name strikes a chord deep within me, sending a surge of memories rushing to the surface. It’s a place that holds secrets and scars, a place I had left behind to escape the horrors of my past. My heart begins to race as I realize that Luna’s revelation could unravel the carefully constructed walls I’ve built around my life, threatening to expose the dark truths that I’ve hidden for so long.

I turn to meet Luna’s eyes, doing my best to hide any hint of the turmoil inside me.

“So what does that have to do with me?”

Luna’s gaze remains fixed on me, and there’s an accusatory edge to her voice as she responds, “Well, you’re from Hollowbrook.”

My heart skips a beat, and I can feel the color drain from my face. She knows more than I thought, and I’m suddenly caught in a web of questions and fears.

“A lot of people are from Hollowbrook,” I counter.

Luna’s expression doesn’t waver as she continues. “My dad had regrets about one case. A case involving a seventeen-year-old girl who entered the HPD. She was scared, and my dad believed her grandfather instead of believing her.”

The room falls silent, and suddenly I can feel the weight of Luna’s words pressing down on me. It’s as if a dark cloud has descended, casting a shadow over everything I thought I had escaped. My past in Hollowbrook has caught up to me, and there’s no denying the painful memories it holds.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Izel, you can’t hide from the truth forever. My dad’s regrets about that case haunted him until the day he died. He always wondered if he could have done something different, something that might have saved that runaway child from whatever hell she went through.”

“He never dug deeper to know I wasn’t a runaway child,” I murmur.

“Why did you give the FBI a bogus description?”

I hesitate for a moment, my back still turned to her.

“Why do you care?”

September 15, 2014, 12:28:49 AM.

I return to the abandoned building, and it’s just as cold and unforgiving as before. Shivers run down my spine as I huddle up, seeking whatever warmth I can find. At some point, exhaustion overtakes me, and I drift into a deep sleep, my mind seeking refuge from the painful memories that haunt me.

But then, something jolts me awake. A hand grabs my arm, and I’m yanked back to reality. My eyes snap open to find a lady officer standing over me. She’s smiling, but there’s something eerie about that smile. I know what’s coming next – she’s here to take me back to Montclair Manor, a place that’s scarier than any haunted house I’ve ever seen in the movies.

Panic courses through me, and I struggle to break free. My tears flow uncontrollably, and I can’t hold back the screams that escape my lips.

“No, please! Stop! Let me go!” I cry out in desperation.

I bite down on her hand, causing her to yell and loosen her hold, but she doesn’t let go.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re here to help you,” she assures me.

Two other officers appear, grabbing me and forcing me into a waiting jeep. “Please, let me go! Don’t take me there!” I scream.

The lady officer tries to soothe me, but there’s no calming the storm of emotions raging within me. I’m trapped, helpless, and being taken to a place I thought I’d escaped.

Tears stream down my face, and my sobs rack my body. I’ve cried so much that I feel drained, and with each step I’m forced to take, my legs wobble beneath me. At this point, I’d almost welcome death as a better alternative.

I tug at the officer’s hand. “Please,” I whimper, “don’t take me there. I can’t go back. I won’t survive.”

The lady officer looks down at me. “Isla, please calm down,” she says in a tone that’s supposed to be soothing.

“I told you already,” I scream, “my name is not Isla. My name is Izel. Please, you have to believe me!”

The lady officer’s indifference is maddening. She shoves me into the patrol car without a second thought. As I’m pushed into the backseat, I catch a glimpse of the head officer who’s in charge, sitting in the passenger’s seat. Desperation fills me, and I plead with him. “Sir, please, don’t take me back. I’m not lying. Please believe me.”

But his response is to ask me to calm down, and I realize that no one is willing to listen, to understand the terror that grips my heart.

The car comes to a screeching halt in front of Montclair Manor, and I’m practically shaking with fear. I scream and shout, trying to make them understand, but my words are like whispers in the wind. The lady officer, despite my struggles, drags me out of the car.

“No, please, don’t make me go in there,” I plead.

“Calm down,” the lady officer says. “You’re safe now. We just need to get you inside.”

But I can’t go inside. This is a life-and-death situation for me. I’m not going down without a fight. I sink my teeth into the lady officer’s arm, hoping to break free, but she yells in pain and tightens her grip on me.

“Let me go!” I shout.

The officer winces and retaliates by sinking her nails into my skin, holding me down with a bruising grip. “Stop fighting and calm down!” she barks.

Desperation takes over, and I shout at the top of my lungs, “Please, anyone, help me!”

The head officer steps out of the car and starts moving toward the house. My heart sinks as I spot the man who has haunted my nightmares for so long. The fear of the consequences that await me inside that dreaded house is suffocating.

He then orders the lady officer to bring me out. Panic surges through me, and I attempt to distance myself from her. In my frenzy, I scoot away so violently that I inadvertently bang my head against the window. The pain is sharp, but it’s a minor concern compared to the torment I anticipate once I’m inside that house.

The lady officer pulls me out of the car and starts guiding me toward the ominous entrance of Montclair Manor. I continue to struggle, but it’s a losing battle.

I know that once I step inside, there’s no escape from the horrors that await. I cry out one last time, “Please, you can’t do this! Please, let me go!”

But it’s too late. The doors of Montclair Manor loom before me, and I’m dragged inside, leaving behind the world I had fought so hard to escape.

I find myself face to face with the man who claims to be my grandfather. More tears stream down my face, and I’m overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. Desperation wells up within me, and I cry out to the head officer one more time, pleading with all the strength I can muster.

“Please, you have to believe me. He’s not my grandfather. Don’t leave me here, please!”

But the head officer merely addresses the man who calls himself Mr. Montclair. “We’re sorry it took so long to find her,” he says, pulling my arm and guiding me towards the entrance of Montclair Manor. I resist, struggling to break free from his grip, but it’s futile.

“No worries, I get it. Isla can be very difficult. I appreciate your efforts.”

I give one last, desperate look to the head officer, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes seem to waver. It’s as though he wants to believe me, to save me from whatever horrors lie within this house. But then, he turns and leaves, the heavy door swinging shut behind him.

“Please, please don’t leave me here!” I scream, but my pleas are silenced as Victor Montclair closes the door.

A wave of panic washes over me, and I begin to scream for help, my cries echoing through the grand foyer. “Someone, anyone, please help me! I don’t belong here!”

But there’s no one to hear my pleas. The grand doors remain closed, sealing my fate within Montclair Manor.

“Because you and I both know who the Ghostface striker is.”

Luna’s words hit me hard, snapping me out of my reverie, and I’m suddenly scared shitless. I gave that police statement years ago, never imagining her father would hold onto it. I never thought Luna would know everything, but now she does, and it feels like the ground has been ripped out from under me. I want to run, to get the hell away from what’s about to come, but it’s like my body feels paralyzed.

Just as Luna’s about to speak, the front door swings open, and Richard walks in. My heart sinks even further. Luna’s going to tell him everything, and I’m about to face the consequences of my lies. I can almost picture the anger and disappointment in Richard’s eyes, and I know that this time, he won’t be fucking me with his gun; he’ll be loading me with bullets before I can get away. He’ll know I’ve been lying to him all this time, that I’m not the victim I claimed to be, but a culprit.

Every little secret I’ve tried to hide, the darkest parts of my past, the truth about who I really am – it’s all about to come crashing down around me, and there’s no way I can dodge the storm that’s about to swallow me whole.

“What happened?” he demands.

Luna turns to him and lies for my sake. “I just mentioned the pattern with which the Ghostface Striker is attacking.”

I’m utterly shocked by her lie. Why is she covering for me? What’s her game? Maybe Luna’s giving me a chance to explain myself later. I know I’ve got some explaining to do.

With Luna’s fabricated story hanging in the air, Richard does what he does best—takes charge. He pulls me into his protective embrace, and I lean into him without thinking. I’m keenly aware that I’m harboring the biggest secret of all, and it’s eating me alive.

“Why the hell would you tell all this to her?”

Luna offers a quick, apologetic glance in my direction. “I thought she had a right to know, given the circumstances.”

His grip tightens around me. “You didn’t have the right to.”

“Rick, I...” Luna begins.

“I don’t give a fuck about your reasons,” he snaps. “I told you to keep her out of this, and you deliberately disobeyed my orders.”

I want to speak up, to confess my deception, but the fear of the repercussions keeps my lips sealed.

“She needs to know. She’s more capable than you think,” Luna stands her ground.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he retorts sharply. “I decide who’s in and who’s out. You’ve crossed a line, Luna. Call it a night.”

After Luna leaves, I give her an apologetic look. I know her heart was in the right place, but her actions have put me in a tricky situation. Richard turns his attention to me, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. He apologizes for Luna’s blunder, emphasizing that he’s doing his best to keep me safe. But right now, it feels like everyone is doing the exact opposite.

“I’ll be fine, Richard,” I reassure him, but the truth is, I’m far from fine. I can sense myself growing increasingly attached to him, and it terrifies me. The looming fear of shattering his heart when he inevitably unearths the truth keeps me up at night. I’m frightened by the thought of how he’ll look at me once he discovers the real story.

He hands me a box, and I raise an eyebrow with my curiosity piqued. His unexpected gestures never fail to surprise me.

“What’s this?”

“Open it and see,” he replies.

I carefully lift the lid, and my breath catches in my throat. Inside, I find a breathtaking red dress. It’s stunning.

A dress? I haven’t worn one in ages. This is new, even overwhelming, because nobody has ever gifted me anything before. Well, except for that one time...

August 11, 2005, at 10:45:12 PM

My mom is at the stove, stirring a pot. I’m sitting at the table, scribbling furiously with my crayons. I’ve drawn a picture of myself with a bunch of friends, just like Sally.

“Look, Mom! How’s this?” I rush over to her, waving my masterpiece.

She glances down, her tired eyes lighting up with pride. “That’s beautiful, Izzie. Who are all these friends?”

I point to each figure. “This is Sally, and that’s Sam, and this is Tommy. They’re my best friends.”

She smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “They seem lovely. You’re quite the artist, you know that?”

I beam, but then my smile fades. “Mom, why can’t I have friends like Sally does? I want to go outside and play with real friends, not just draw them.”

Her face falls, and she kneels down to my level, wiping her hands on a towel. “Izel, I know it’s hard. But things are a bit different for us. We have to be careful.”

I cross my arms, pouting. “But it’s not fair! It’s my birthday and no one will be there again. Not even one friend.”

“I know, sweetheart. But we’ll have a special day together, just you and me. I promise it’ll be wonderful.”

“But I don’t want it to be just us! I want friends, a party, and gifts.”

My mom’s face tenses, and she opens her mouth to argue, but before she can say anything, a voice booms from behind her, sending a chill down my spine.

“Is that how you talk to your mother?”

I whip around. “Sorry, Dad.”

I shuffle back to the table with my drawing. Usually, he would slap me or throw me to the ground for talking back, but today, he doesn’t. Maybe it’s because it’s my birthday, or maybe he’s in a rare good mood. He walks over, crouching down to my level, and hands me a box.

“Happy birthday,” he says.

My face lights up with a smile . “Thank you, Daddy!” I hug him tightly, feeling a rare moment of affection.

I tear open the box and find a beautiful red dress and a small, pretty tube of lipstick that looks fancy. Just like Sally has. I hold the dress up to myself, glowing with happiness. Just then, my mom walks in, carrying a cake. She sees me with the dress and the lipstick, and the cake slips from her hands, crashing to the floor.

“Why would you give that to her?” she asks my dad.

He stands up, crossing his arms. “She’s grown up, don’t you think?”

My mom’s eyes dart to me. “She’s only eight. Izel, put it down.”

“But I like it!” I protest, holding the dress closer.

“I said put it down,” she repeats.

“No!” I shout, clutching the dress tighter. I love it, and I don’t want to let it go.

My dad’s eyes flick to my mom. “Let her have it. She deserves something nice.”

My mom looks at him, then back at me. “Izzie, please. You don’t understand.”

I glare at her. “I understand enough! I want to keep it!”

She sighs, defeated, and turns away, picking up the fallen cake. My dad pats my head, his approval making me feel like I’ve won a battle.

“Good girl,” he says, and for a moment, I feel special.

“Do you like it?”

I force a smile, feeling a lump in my throat. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. But why all of a sudden?”

He grins at my reaction, revealing that charming, lopsided smile that always makes my heart race.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight,” he announces, and I smile back. His ability to make me forget about everything else is nothing short of magical.

In my room, I struggle to put on the dress. It isn’t that I’ve never worn one before; it’s just the idea of receiving something so lovely, something so utterly normal, that leaves me flustered. The dress is elegant, with a high slit and a flowing silhouette that brushes the ground. I can only imagine how out of place I must look in such attire. My cheeks flush with an uncharacteristic warmth. It almost feels like a blush, but I shake it off. I lost that ability ages ago.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I feel a mix of emotions. Part of me feels vulnerable, exposed in this beautiful dress, yet there’s also a sense of excitement that I haven’t experienced in a long time. Is this how others feel on a regular basis, the simple thrill of getting dressed up and going out. It’s foreign and intoxicating, a glimpse into a life I’ve only seen from the shadows.

“Izel, you can do this. You’ve faced far worse than a zipper,” I muster as I struggle with the dress. It’s a battle of fabric and skin, and for once, it’s a battle I’m determined to win.

Richard leans casually against the door, and I catch him looking at me through the mirror. Time seems to slow down as my hand, previously occupied with the zipper, freezes in place. My breath catches in my throat as I take in his appearance in a tuxedo. I’ve only ever seen him in business suits before, but the tux... he looks nothing short of breathtaking.

His broad shoulders, the perfectly tailored jacket, the crisp white shirt, and that black tie make him appear like the epitome of an attractive man. His dark, wavy hair is slightly tousled, adding to his charm. I find myself unable to look away from the reflection in the mirror. It’s as though someone has captured the essence of pure charisma and poured it into this man.

His playful eyes meet mine in the mirror, and he’s smirking. “Do you need help with that?”

“What, you think I can’t handle a simple zipper?” I narrow my eyes playfully.

He pushes himself off the door, his steps slow and deliberate as he approaches me. I watch him in the mirror, acutely aware of how close he’s getting. He stops right behind me. With a feather-light touch, his fingers brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen across my neck.

“In that case,” he whispers, his warm breath against my ear causing goosebumps to form on my skin, “I’ll just stand here and watch you struggle.”

I turn my attention back to the zipper. In truth, I’m tempted to accept his offer. But I can’t let him see that. With a huff, I give the zipper one last tug, and it finally zips up smoothly. I turn to meet his eyes, a smug smile playing on my lips.

“See,” I quip, “I’ve got this, I don’t need you after all.”

“Impressive,” he concedes, stepping even closer.

My breath hitches as he leans down to place a kiss on my cheek, and his words in my ear are loaded with a promise that ignites a fire within me.

“You look incredible,” he whispers in my ear. “I want to take you out in that dress and show you off to the world. But more than that, I want to tear it off you and make you scream my name until you’re breathless and need me for everything.”

Before I can give in to the overwhelming temptation, Richard straightens and takes a step back.

“As much as this idea is exciting,” he says with a smirk, “I really want us to have that dinner.”

I nod, a flush of excitement warming my cheeks. He steps away from me, offering his hand. Without a second thought, I reach out and place my hand in his.