I slipped under the covers of the queen sized bed and reached for my phone. I debated whether to check my social media or emails, but after a few seconds, I gave it a shot.
And regretted it immediately.
* * *
RIP Destiny.
You were loved, Destiny.
Destiny was a light that everyone needed in their life. She will be missed.
Destiny, I loved you. It sucks that things didn't work out between us, but you were the sun in my life and I know heaven gained another angel.
If it weren’t for the burning sensation that crept through me, I wouldn't have taken another breath of oxygen. I couldn't believe my eyes; to read messages on my wall saying rest in peace. Everyone assumed I was dead simply because of a news broadcast. No investigation, no determination if I was dead or murdered. Everyone was accepting it like it was okay? Like it was true.
What made me sick to my stomach was the last message. The one with the saddest and heart emojis. My ex-fiancé, Phillip. My heart couldn't decide what hurt more: the world turning against me or the man I'd loved with all my heart.
I wasn't exaggerating on my love for him. In fact, I probably still loved him. He had been my light. Maybe even my savior from the dark childhood I tried not to admit I remembered. I consistently had dreams about a different life. A world filled with agony and hate. It wasn't like the "loving" family I'd grown up in later on.
When I found out I was really adopted at the age of eight, everything seemed to click. My anxiety, fears, panic attacks, even the damn asthma. I knew my health didn't match my 'oh so healthy vegan gluten-free family,' but it made sense now.
I always thought I was just the oddball or maybe a stepchild, but I was grateful to be in my parent’s care. When you wake up with barely any memories left and your parents cover your $150,000 hospital fees, you can't ask stupid questions.
To think I could easily be pushed aside as if my existence didn't matter hurt. It hurts so much.
My hands continued to shake, and I sat up and slowly placed the phone back onto the nightstand. After a few struggling breaths, I reached over for my inhaler and quickly pressed down to deliver a puff. After a minute, I took another puff before I laid the inhaler next to me on my right side and stared forward in the dark room.
"R.I.P..." I whispered, over and over again, debating on whether I wished for it to be real. Determining how I felt was difficult; should I feel sad, mad, or just numb?
Was it something to do with my body image?
I was taller than most of my coworkers, standing at 6'2". My shape was on the hourglass side, and with my weight lifting sessions that I did before work to relieve some of the stress gave me a snatched waist.
I still did cardio for when I needed to burn some fuel, normally running on the treadmill doing sprints for a good hour. That just made sure I didn't gain any weight in my hips which were normal and a bit annoying when a girl just wanted a piece of cake.
My skin had always been one of my best qualities. Smooth without a pimple in sight, soap and water being my best friend compared to half the beauty products my coworkers used.
My hair, however, could have been the problem. It was kind of long, as in reaching my lower back long, and the pink highlights always turned heads, but that was my hair. It shouldn't determine if I was likable or not.
Maybe, I'm too kind?
I loved to be kind. Maybe I was too merciful to everyone. No matter the task, big or small, I'd worked hard to make sure everything was perfect, even if it wasn't my task to finish. I craved to be the likable one. To be the one people would come to and seek help from if they needed it. Did it make me popular?
Now that I sat and thought about it, it made me realize how lonely my life really was. The coworkers that I considered friends loved me when we clocked in for our 8-12-hour shifts, but the moment they clocked out, I was the outcast who wouldn't get asked to join them for drinks or the end of the year parties.
Jeez, even getting a cup of coffee with a co-worker never happened. They sure loved to send me to get coffee for them all, though.
I laid back down, my gaze locking onto the white ceiling. I stopped fighting my tears and let them roll down the sides of my face and into the white pillow cushioning my pounding head.
Can I really be forgotten so...easily?
Even if I was adopted, was everyone okay with accepting my death without an investigation? It made me wonder if the police would even investigate. I'd lived for 24 years; my birthday was coming up in two months, yet it felt like I had never existed.
Two hours and no one had tried to call my phone? No one texted to see if the reports were true? Not even one person posted on my Facebook wall and stated they couldn't believe this was true?
The parents I thought loved me put on a show for the world to see, but were they happy I was "dead"? The man I'd loved and adored now slept in a bed with another woman but could take two seconds to be like the rest and follow the lead of RIP messages and making sure he looked the part in this unbelievable lie.
Time passed, and I continued to cry until my eyes were exhausted, but sleep wouldn't take me away. My head pounded while my mind buzzed, wondering what I was going to do.
Sitting up again, I reached for my phone. I ignored the constant RIP notifications and checked into my bank account. Maybe in the back of my mind, I knew this was going to happen. Earlier today when Phillip had broken up with me, I had decided to move my funds to a Switzerland account with my birth name--Destiny Alexa Jinn.
I’d not known that Jinn was my last name, but it was written on the birth certificate and I decided to use it for my personal benefit. I was Destiny was my real name because I did love it. Especially because my grandma adored it.
Once I ensured all my savings and Grandma's inheritance she'd specifically left for me were secured, I made sure to confirm my other bank account was closed. If my "death" was going to be official to this town, I wouldn't dare let anyone get a penny.
When my grandma couldn’t move or take care of herself, everyone had treated her like a burden. Not me, of course.
I took care of her the best I could, even hiring a nursing aid to come in and assist during my long working hours. Even with all my hard work to give my grandma the best last days of her life, it was quite amusing to see the family's shocked expressions when Grandma's will ensured all her million dollar inheritance went to me.
Was that the reason they planned my death? So that the money could go to them? It would make sense… but… wow.
I went through my contacts, scrolling through the numerous coworkers’ numbers, trying to figure out who I could call. My finger kept sliding upward until I reached the last contact.
No one. With 100+ contacts on my phone, I had no one I felt confident enough in calling, which inevitably made my loneliness worsen, and my anxiety continued to pulse through me. I turned the phone off and flicked it to the floor, not caring if it cracked or exploded. I really wish it did explode.
I laid back down and rolled over onto my left side, letting my scrambled thoughts work themselves out while I stared at the lamp sitting underneath the dim night light. I thought about my grandma, the memories we shared and how she always saw the best in me. Her love was genuine, and I missed her comforting voice and soothing hugs.
I trembled quietly under the sheets, one of the things that always happened when I slept alone. It reminded me of Snix and I began to sob, turning over to lay on my stomach and continue my sobbing into my wet pillow.
"Snix. I'm sorry."
I cried all night and didn't know when sleep overtook me.
All I knew was that this was my first night of feeling truly alone in the world.
ONE WEEK LATER...
* * *
Running my hands through my hair, I stared at my face in the mirror.My hazelnut colored eyes looked dull compared to their once bright outlook and were framed by heavy eyelids above and dark circles below. My lips were dry, complexion si
ckly pale, and the frizz of my long, tangled hair made me feel like I'd really lost it. I need to sleep.
With a lift of the tap, I turned it to the right and moved my hands underneath the cold stream of water. Once it overflowed out of my hands, I leaned down and splashed my face, needing the wake-up call.
No. I'll stay up. I can't sleep.
Seven full days. That was all the amount of time needed for the police to rule the house fire as a faulty error in the fireplace that set the place ablaze and took my life and the life of my pet, Snix.
Seven days for them to wrap things up and have a very simple funeral with family only.
Seven days for everyone to stop posting on my wall.
Seven days is all it took for everyone to forget and move on.
Seven days I stayed in this room, watching it all on the television.
I didn't bother to turn my phone on. It wasn't like I had anyone to talk to. I'm dead, remember?
It wouldn't have been bad if I could sleep, but that was a whole other problem that was becoming more of a priority.
Since waking up that day in the hospital when I was 8 years old, I couldn't sleep alone. It was weird to explain why, but it just frightened me to the point that I couldn't sleep.
The doctors said it could have been due to a traumatic experience and a list of other issues I "apparently" could experience, but no medicine could help me out.
My ex-parents thought it would go away, and that I must have been doing it for attention, but after the 8th day of being awake and collapsing in the middle of the hospital hall, they realized I was being very serious.
That was when Snix entered my life. The nurse suggested that having a pet around me and to snuggle with me at night would help. It certainly changed everything, and even when Phillip entered my life, Snix always slept on the bed, even if it was at the end of the bed to keep me company.
Now she was gone, and I had no one to help push away my fears and tremors. I wouldn't last much longer without some much-needed sleep, but what was I going to do? Call a Cuddler? Not looking like this.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror once more reminded me that I'd stopped taking care of my appearance the moment I was "pronounced" dead. My mind knew it wasn't true, and something must have been planned for all this to occur, yet I couldn't convince myself that it was false.
I had barely eaten, consuming only a few crackers here and there and making sure I at least drank water. I was certainly going to lose all the muscles I'd been working on retaining the last couple of months, but at this point, did I really care? I was dead.
With strained effort, I lifted my hand and closed the tap and let my head hang low. What do I do now? Where do I go?
Turning away from the sink, I paced towards the bed. My body felt like it was weighed down, and I didn't know how long it would take before I really did pass out.
If I ended up in the hospital, that would be bad. Top news report: dead girl who burned in house fire turns up alive and is being treated at Sunny Hospital.
I laughed at the thought and shook my head before face planting onto the bed. The remote that was on the edge fell off, making a noise that caught my attention. I lifted my head slightly to see the lamp still in its place on the nightstand, appearing extra glorious with the sun shining through the little slip in the dark maroon curtains.
It almost looked like it was glowing, and I couldn't ignore its calling. Maybe this was one of those mirages, happening in my hotel room due to my delirious mind. After some mental debate, I caved and reached for the golden item that continued to taunt me. Took me a few unsuccessful attempts before I finally reached it.
Rolling onto my back, I raised the lamp up like I was presenting it to the ceiling as an offering.
Are there magic words or something? Circle of life? Nah, that was the Lion King. Eventually, my arms got tired and I turned to lay on my side. I stared at the lamp for a long time, wondering what I'd wish for.
To go back in time before this all occurred? No. I wouldn't be able to forget what those fakes did to me. Go back and burn the house while everyone was in it? Nah, that's too cruel and evil. I think this isn't even close to how Hell would be like. They're not worth eternal suffering.
I continued my internal debate, wondering what could have been the best wish to make. I could wish for grandma to come back? The thought was appealing, but then again, would I want my grandma going through the suffering she experienced before? She could have been enjoying Heaven with grandfather, the both of them playing golf or watching those theatrical soap opera shows they loved to watch together.
I can't do that to her. She'd be sad to return to this cruel world. I bet she's happy where she is.
Minutes turned to what felt like hours, and I couldn't think of anything. I was more exhausted than I was before, but sleep wouldn't take me. With a sigh, I hugged the lamp to my chest and pulled my legs up to my chest.
I began to cry again, feeling sorry for myself like I had all week. I thought about who my real family could have been. If I did have a real family, where did they go?
More importantly, why did they leave me? Was I a troubled child? Did they not want me to begin with? Who the hell am I? Where did I come from to land into this "perfect" family who could cast me away before I reached a quarter of the 100-year life I wished to obtain like Grandma.
"I wish to know who I am… where I really belong in this world. That's all I ask."
My voice was weak with no punch to it, but I didn't care. I said my wish and I'd already accepted that this lamp I cradled in my hand was merely what it appeared to be.
A lamp and not a magical item that could grant wishes.
The sound of deep voices seemed to echo around me, and I pondered on whether or not I'd fallen asleep and this was now a dream.
My eyes felt so heavy, but my sluggish mind wouldn't let me fall asleep. If I’m even awake.
The voices were getting louder, and it was starting to annoy me.
"How the hell did all four of us get summoned at once?"
"I don't know."
"Why the fuck are we naked?"
"We are so not… FUCK! Where’d my Givenchy jumpsuit go?! It was limited edition!"
"No one gives a fuck about your Givenchy clothing. You have a damn walking closet of Givenchy. One lost outfit won't break your bank."
"Oh no, no, no. That bad boy is one of only three damn sets in the fucking world. I'm not stealing Jeffree Star's, and I don't even want to think about who has the other one."
"Are we really talking about this right now?"
"Can you guys be serious?"
"Stop talking so loud. You'll wake her up."
"She's awake."
"No, she's not."
"Soooo… are we just gonna stand here naked, or find something to wear before she opens her eyes?"
"She's not awake!"
"Says Mr. Givenchy."
"I'm Magnificent to you."
"And I'm Mr. Shut The Fuck Up."
"That's the new nickname for Vengeance."
"Fuck off."
"Or he'll vengefully slap you."
"I'll slap the shit out of all three of you if you don't get serious and be quiet."
The room was silent after that, and I decided I was intrigued enough to open my eyes. It took me a few moments to adjust my blurry vision before I noticed the shadow of someone standing near the end of the bed.
Any normal person would be freaking out at the possibility of someone being in their hotel room in the middle of the night, but I was least concerned by it as I gradually sat up with the lamp still in my hand; I held it like it was my only prized possession.
Blinking a few times, I realized there were four very handsome men standing around the end of my bed.
Four very naked delicious men that I am suddenly very aware of.
Before I could even react, the one on the far left raised his hands up defensively. "Before you freak out, can we at least put some clo
thes on?"
The middle one sighed, and the other two shook their heads.
"I knew I wasn't the idiot in the group."
"At least it's been confirmed yet again."
"Oh, c'mon. I'm not an idiot. It's respecting your clients who wish upon you. I swear it's in the contract."
I slowly took in his naked body, before glancing at the other three. "You can stay naked. Nice sight to see," I mumbled.
The four of them stared at me blankly before the guy on the far left chuckled. "I like her."
"We're doomed," groaned the male on the right.
My gaze locked onto the man on the left, deciding to start with taking in his appearance before he sadly put on some clothes; I would try to figure out where he'd get some later.
He stood at 6'6" with light blond hair that shifted to a strawberry red, putting the name strawberry blond to shame with its beautiful two tones. His complexion was slightly pale, but I could tell right away he was of Asian descent, loving his soft facial features that reminded me of those Japanese or Mandarin models.
His eyes were black and his smooth pink lips completed his "cute handsome" look, and I leaned to the side slightly to see his hair was indeed in a ponytail, the loose ends resting against his broad back. He was defined and had a cool dragon tattoo on his left arm that ran from his bicep down to his wrist. He had a rounder face compared to the others and wasn't as buff as them, but it didn't make him less impressive. It really balanced them out.
I moved onto guy number two who stood next to strawberry blond.
Guy two stood at 6'5" and had ginger hair that was currently loose, those orange-red locks resting to his shoulders. His freckles made his complexion lighter, which made me realize he either was Caucasian or a mixture of two races, but I wasn't confident with my observation.
Those alluring blue eyes displayed a level of kindness that must have been illegal or something, and he was giving me surfer vibes, but maybe I'd been watching too many beach movies before all of this madness.
Wish For Me (Destiny Jinn Series Book 1) Page 2