Chapter Seven

London

Amelia settles into the chair opposite mine, sliding a cup of delicious-smelling coffee over to me. "Here you go, hun."

She looks as fabulous as ever in baggy, ripped jeans and a fitted shirt that stops just above her belly button. She's let her hair down, the long, dark curls framing her face in a way that highlights her gorgeous features. It's hard to believe that she's been on her feet serving customers all day when she looks like she literally just walked off the cover of a fashion magazine. Not only is she a barista in this very cafe, she's the owner of a chain of cafes and restaurants in the city. Despite her family's wealth, Amelia has built her business from scratch, quickly rising to become one of the youngest business owners to be featured in Forbes magazine.

Sometimes, it's hard to believe that I'm friends with an amazing woman like Amelia. Despite the massive differences in our statuses, Amelia has always been fiercely protective and loyal. She's always loved me in a way I never thought myself deserving of.

"This is delicious as always," I say, holding the coffee cup up with a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't mention it," Amelia says with a dismissive wave of her pretty, manicured fingers. "I'm just happy to have you here. It's good to see you out and about."

In the past, I've always denied her invitation to visit or hang out for fear of my stepfather. I'd been conditioned to stay behind the mental bars he built for me over the years, confined by fear and projected insecurities. Now that I'm out, I'm constantly confronted by all of the things I've been missing out on.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly to Amelia, hoping she understands the reason for my apology.

From the softening of her expression, I think she does. "Please don't be," she says, reaching out across the table to take my hands in hers. "It wasn't your fault. Do you hear me?"

I nod, smiling at the fierce determination in her eyes as she waits for me to respond. "Yes, I hear you."

She returns my smile, her eyes filling up with pride as she sits back in her chair. "Curt told me about your mom's visit. She's ready to let go of Tom?" she asks, referring to my stepdad.

I nod, ignoring the familiar tightness in my chest at hearing his name. "That's what she says. Curt's been working tirelessly for the past two weeks to gather enough evidence to put him behind bars for a long time. He's found enough to start a case, but he says it's not substantial, and now he's been out of town since yesterday to follow a lead." I sigh softly, letting my shoulders slump as the weight of my emotions settle on me. "I feel bad imposing on him like this."

"No. No," Amelia says quickly. "He's happy to help. He loves you, you know?"

My heart lurches violently in my chest at Amelia's words. "D-did he say that to you?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice level.

"He didn't have to," Amelia replies with a kind smile. "I see it in his eyes, just as I see it in yours. You love him too, don't you?"

The question is sudden, causing a shrill alarm to go off in my head. I'm certain that Curt and I share a special connection, but I haven't considered the possibility of love. I haven't let myself consider it. And now that I'm confronted with that possibility, I'm totally unprepared.

Just then, my phone starts to ring, saving me from having to answer. I pick up the phone, flashing Amelia an apologetic smile which she acknowledges with a dismissive wave.

I place the phone over my ear, instantly freezing up at the sound of my mother's voice. Her words, punctuated by a familiar, fearful urgency, morph into a discordant echo. She's drowned out by Tom's manic shouts. Before I know it, I'm spiraling into the dark tunnels of memories that I thought were shut forever.

I stand up so abruptly that my chair almost topples to the ground. Amelia blinks up at me, her brows furrowed in concern.

"Are you alright?" she asks quietly.

"I-I need to go," I reply. And without waiting for her to respond, I spin around and run out of the cafe.

The twenty-minute taxi ride down to my mother's home passes in a blur. I'm out of the car before it even pulls to a stop in front of the shabby bungalow that used to be my home.

I sprint to the front door and push it open. "Mom? Mom! Where are you?"

I burst into the kitchen to find it quiet and empty. It looks just the same as I remember: smoke-stained wallpaper, peeling vinyl floors, and a layer of grime coating everything. Old food wrappers and dirty clothes litter every surface. I search for my mother, but the only living creature I see is a fat roach scuttling across the kitchen floor.

Suddenly, I feel a heavy thud on the back of my head. I barely have time to register the pain before falling to the ground and being consumed by an overwhelming darkness.

By the time I open my eyes, I've been tied to a chair with Tom Miller, my stepfather of eighteen years, standing over me with a mocking sneer.

"Hello, daughter."

I look around, wincing at the dizzy spell that overcomes me at the effort.

"Mom? Where's my mom?"

A strangled whimper draws my attention to a huddled figure in a far corner of the sparse living room. I blink rapidly at my cowering mother, taking in her glazed-over eyes and the guilty expression on her face. I feel my heart drop to my stomach, and the realization of my situation slowly dawns on me.

"Did you… are you high, mom?" I ask in disbelief, glancing from her to Tom and back to her. She doesn't have to answer; the needle in her arm tells me everything I need to know. "He made you call me, didn't he? How could you, Mom? You sold me out to him for drugs? How can you stab me in the back over and over again?!"

"I'm sorry," she whimpers, her head drooping helplessly to the side as she passes out.

"Mom!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Tom snaps. I'm not sure what he's on, but he's twitchy and on edge, his dilated pupils vibrating. "What are you worrying about her for, anyway? You're the one in trouble here."

"What's the meaning of this?" I ask, proud of the firmness of my voice despite the tight knots in my stomach. "Why am I tied up?"

"Don't play dumb! You sent that hotshot lawyer after me, got him to snoop through my business," Tom says, his sneer growing wider. He lets out laugh that reminds me of a hyena – primal and cruel. "You're whoring for favors now? I used to think maybe I could beat some sense into you, but I guess it didn't work. You were always gonna turn out just like your mother. Just a worthless piece of shit."

"That's you, Tom," I spit back at him, refusing to back down from his blazing glare. "You're the useless bastard who feeds on the fear of others. You're nothing but a slimy coward!"

His hand lands on my cheek with a force that has my head lulling to the side. I grit my teeth against the pain, slowly raising my head to look him in the eyes.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" he bellows, his face only inches from mine. He grabs the arms of the chair I'm tied to. "Do I have to remind you of your place?"

"What do you want from me?" I ask, glaring defiantly into his eyes.

"Die."

"What?"

He straightens himself and steps back. He starts to pace, his jaw clenched, his fingers scratching compulsively at the red sores on his arms.

"I need you to die!" he shouts, my ears ringing from the volume. "You've ruined everything, everything! Thanks to your little boyfriend, I've got the cops tailing me everywhere. My customers all think I'm a goddamn rat! I can't sell shit!"

"Killing me won't get your customers back!"

"No, but burning this house down with you in it will get me a nice chunk of change from the insurance company. Enough to get me the hell out of this city. We can finally start over without you around to drag us down and ruin the fun!"

"You can't be serious," I say with a humorless laugh. "You can't get away with this. You have a witness! Mom?" I call, looking towards my mother.

She opens her eyes drowsily and I scream her name again, willing her to come to her senses, to tell me she knows nothing about Tom's plans. She turns away from me, but not before I see the guilty tears in her eyes.

I wince as a piercing pain shoots through my heart. It doesn't matter that I've experienced this heartbreak over and over again; it feels just as excruciating as it did when she brought a man home mere months after my dad passed.

"I'll go get the fuel from the garage," Tom says, already heading towards the door.

Suddenly, the door is pushed open, and I'm shocked to see Curt walk in with a gun aimed directly at Tom.

I stare at him in shock, wondering if this was one of those fairytales where I'm saved from the living nightmare that is my life. I've imagined several knights in shining armor coming to rescue me, but none came close to this incredibly beautiful man.

"Let her go or I'll blow your fucking brains out," he says coldly, his face set in deadly determination.

"You're a lawyer," Tom says with a derisive snort. "You ‘re not gonna shoot me."

"I'm a lawyer," Curt replies with a smirk that makes him look even deadlier. "I know a thousand ways to get away with murder."

Tom must see the seriousness in his eyes, because he raises both of his hands in the air as a sign of surrender.

"Alright. Easy, man," he mutters slowly, easing a hand toward his pocket while the other remains in the air. "I'm just taking out a knife to cut her loose." He takes out a pocketknife and shakily cuts the ropes that bound me to the chair. "Here you go…"

"Come here, honey," he says to me although his eyes are trained on Tom.

I wonder if I'm imagining the quaver in his voice, but that might just be my horrified heart playing tricks on me. I stand up on weak knees and start to walk towards Curt.

Suddenly, I hear a scurry of feet behind me. Startled, I turn around in time for the pocketknife to connect with my stomach, its sharp blade sinking easily into my flesh.

A startled gasp escapes my lips as I blink up in disbelief at the vengeful face of Tom. "That's what you get for crossing me, bitch!" A shrill scream permeates the air, one that sounds suspiciously like my mother's.

I can hear the urgency in Curt's voice as he shouts my name. He sounds so far away… so faded.

Strong arms catch me just before I hit the ground. I'm instantly engulfed in a familiar warmth, one that overshadows my fear. Only one person can make me feel so safe… so protected.

"Curt…" I whisper weakly.

I hear his sharp intake of breath and feel the drop of his tears on my face. I hear the pain in his voice as he calls my name over and over again, begging me to respond.

I want to speak, to ask him not to cry… To tell him that I love him… That I've loved him all my life, and that I'll love him even in death.

But when I open my mouth, only a raspy breath comes out. I sigh, closing my eyes as darkness overwhelms me.

Just a second more, I think desperately. Please!