Returned to the Light

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Returned to the Light Page 1

by C. M. Radcliff




  Returned

  to the Light

  C.M. Radcliff

  Copyright © 2018 C.M. RADCLIFF

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, places, brands, media and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author, except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  Due to the graphic nature of this novel, it is not intended for anyone under the age of eighteen.

  For everyone out there who’s lost in the dark.

  The light is there. Don’t stop looking for it.

  chapter one

  RYDER

  LOCKING MY ELBOWS WITH MY ARMS EXTENDED, I raise them in front of my body. With one eye closed, my focus draws in on the target in front of me. My grip tightens around the pistol as I position my finger over the trigger. Squeezing the trigger again and again, I empty the clip into the paper human hanging 10 yards from my spot in the shooter’s booth. I press a small button on the wall and the paper target quickly moves along a track, coming to a halt in front of me. I examine the paper and see almost every shot is straight to the head. Turning to the shelf on the wall, I pull out bullets to reload the clip. And then my phone rings. The name that shows up makes me want to light up my phone with this gun. I ignore it, letting it go to voicemail. Instead of getting a voicemail, though, I get another phone call, followed by another. I slam down my pistol and shove my earmuffs off my head, letting them fall around my neck.

  Reluctantly, I answer the phone.

  I say nothing.

  “She’s back,” Griffin states in a hushed voice.

  My heart rate instantly picks up, and my stomach feels uneasy.

  “What?” My voice cracks, but I quickly shake it off. She can’t have that effect on me anymore.

  “She cam–,” Griffin starts, but I cut him off.

  “You know, I don’t really care.” I put my walls back up. I have no choice but to do exactly that. She destroyed me once, which was only fair, but once was enough.

  “She asked about you,” he tells me.

  I want to puke, and at the same time, I want him to tell me everything.

  “Like I said,” I say with a deep sigh, willing the bile back down my throat, “I don’t care.”

  “You’re a terrible fucking liar, you know that?” he huffs into the phone. “Aren’t you even the slightest bit curious as to what she had to say?”

  I think about it for a second and pull the phone away from my ear.

  “Nope,” I lie and hastily end the call.

  I throw my phone onto the ground, shattering the screen. My fingers move quickly, shoving the bullets into the clip. I slam it back into the gun and pull my ear muffs back onto my head. I get into position and zero my focus in on my target.

  Fuck all of this shit.

  I SPEND THE REST OF THE DAY at the range, unloading my anger into the paper target. Only, it doesn’t help. There’s still so much anger pent up inside, it’s eating at me. I’m afraid there’s nothing to get rid of it. I walk through the dark parking lot and hop into my car. Pulling out my cellphone, I dial her number.

  “I was hoping you’d call,” her sultry voice comes through the speaker.

  “Wanna come over tonight?” I ask her, getting straight to the point. I could hang up the phone now, not even needing to wait for an answer. Of course she’ll come over.

  “I get off work at twelve and then I’ll be there,” she says with a hint of excitement in her voice.

  “See ya then,” I mutter and hang up the phone.

  I navigate my car down the winding roads, willing it to move faster with a constant threat of causing an accident. Maybe it would be easier to run my car off the road and just end it all. Instead, I drive home, unharmed, and spend the rest of the evening doing what I usually do. I drink my dinner, and it continues throughout the night until I can’t think straight. Mission accomplished. The harsh liquor doesn’t even burn my throat anymore. It’s been two years since she left, and she still haunts my mind.

  It all happened so quickly. I can remember it and feel it as clear as day.

  She was still in the hospital for her injuries from when she was kidnapped. Her recovery consisted of countless procedures and surgeries. Then came therapy; lots and lots of therapy. Physical for everything her body went through, and psychological for everything her mind endured. If there was a God, I was forever indebted to him. It’s a miracle she’s even alive. And she was continuing to get better, day by day, little by little. She was going to be sent home soon, but I didn’t realize that was the day.

  I went home to shower and change my clothes upon her insisting. I should have noticed it then; she had already been acting strange and distant. When I came back, her room was empty with just a mess of sheets on the bed. Instantly, I thought something bad had happened. I panicked and rushed into the hallway, only to find she had been released from the hospital.

  She lied to me. She knew the whole time she’d be going home that day.

  I almost got into three accidents while racing to her house. And no one was there. I called her phone, but it was disconnected. Her mom’s phone went straight to voicemail. Griffin was as clueless as I was. So I sat there, on her front steps, until day turned to night. Until her mom’s car finally pulled in. And Lydia wasn’t in the car.

  “Where is she?” I demanded.

  Victoria sighed, “Ryder, she went away. She needs help. Help she can’t get from anyone here.”

  “No,” I replied forcefully, “I can help her.”

  Where the hell was she?

  I needed to see her.

  She needed me.

  She slowly shook her head, her eyes filled with regret.

  “What she needs is for you to let her go, Ryder.”

  “Please,” I pleaded with her, feeling the tears in my eyes, “just tell me where she is. I need to see her one last time.”

  “I can’t do that. She asked me not to tell you anything. She needs a fresh start away from here, away from the painful memories. If you love her, you’ll let her go.”

  Victoria said nothing else to me. She gave me one last sad look and disappeared inside. I sat on their steps until late in the night, lost and completely shattered. Finally finding the strength, I pulled myself together and off the steps to go home. Only, it’s no longer home. My home left me without a trace.

  That was the last time I had seen Victoria. A few days later, a for sale sign was in her front yard, and a few weeks after that, it was sold. I never heard from her again.

  Griffin kept in touch with Lydia, but he never gave me too many details, no matter how much I asked. And then one day, I just stopped asking. She was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. All that was left in her place was a ghost—one that continued to haunt me every day of my motherfucking life.

  A knock on the front door brings me back from the painful memories.

  I walk to the door and look through the peephole. It’s Jess. I glance at my phone. 12:30 am; right on time. I open the door and stare at her. But I’m not actually staring at her. I’m only seeing the fact that she isn’t HER.

  “You gonna let me in or keep me out here all night?” she asks me, cocking her hip and resting a hand on it.

  I step to the side, letting her in. She walks right past me and up the stairs. I slowly shut the door and watch her swing her hips as she sashays up the steps. Her long blonde hair swings from her ponytail with every step she tak
es. Her bare ass cheeks peek from underneath her short skirt. She stops at the top of the stairs and looks down at me.

  “Are you comin’ or what?” she asks, slowly peeling her shirt off. She tosses it down the stairs at me and winks before turning around and walking down the hallway. I pause for a moment, then follow her upstairs and into the guest room. She knows better than to go into my room.

  She’s already naked and spread out on the bed when I get there.

  She’s everything that Lydia isn’t…and that’s exactly what I need.

  I shove those thoughts out of my mind and my clothes off my body. I climb onto the bed, throw on a condom, skip the foreplay, and fuck the girl who is there just for that. I use her as a means for a release, and she knows that’s all it will ever be.

  Lydia destroyed me.

  Now, I have nothing left to give anyone.

  chapter two

  LYDIA

  I KNEW IT WAS A BAD IDEA coming back here. But Cindy, my therapist, insisted I come to face my demons and to right my wrongs. It was time to find him and tell him the truth. I owed him that much.

  “Trenton Thomas, sit your little butt down,” I demand, pulling the tiny human down onto the seat beside me. He’s been bouncing off the walls since we got on the plane in Georgia. It was his first time traveling anywhere, and he has not been able to contain his excitement. As quickly as possible, I strap him into the carseat and shut the door. I get into the front seat and we start our journey through town.

  “Mama, look,” he exclaims, pointing out the window. “Boats.”

  “Good job, bubba. Those are some big boats.” I reach back and pat his head as we drive past the port.

  “Thanks again, Griffin, for letting us stay with you,” I look over and tell him as he drives us through the town. What I don’t tell him is how terrified I really am to be here right now.

  “You’re always welcome at my house. And I’ve been wanting to see my little nephew again.” He looks in the rearview mirror and beams at Trent in the back. He stares out the window in awe of his surroundings. His clear blue eyes are wide, taking everything in. I don’t notice where we are until I spot my old house. And Ryder’s.

  “How is he?” I ask quietly, staring at his house as we drive past. It’s a question I know I shouldn’t ask.

  Griffin shrugs.

  “The same as he has been.” He pauses, then adds, “A smug drunken asshole.”

  I fall silent for the rest of the ride.

  It hurts my heart to hear what he’s become and to know that I made him this way.

  I broke him.

  WE GET TO GRIFFIN’S HOUSE on the coast. He parks his car close to the bright white house. He kills the engine and turns towards me.

  “Lydia, I can all but hear your head right now. You can’t keep blaming yourself,” he says quietly, his eyes sympathetic. I don’t want his sympathy.

  Rustling and grunting in the back of the car catches my attention. Trent fights against the straps of his carseat, struggling to get out. He won’t be turning two until September. We’ve got the terrible twos four months early, and he’s started talking earlier than most kids too.

  “Mama, out!” he squeals from behind. I glance back at Griffin. The look on his face still hasn’t changed, and he slowly bows his head in defeat. I climb out of the car and open the back door. I unstrap Trent, and he scrambles out of the car as gracefully as a toddler can. He falls onto his hands and knees on the stone driveway, but he’s gets back up and races off like nothing happened. I close the door and lean back up against it, watching him running through the grass. He comes to a stop at the side of the house. He turns around and looks at me, jumping up and down. “Beach, beach!”

  I push off the car and walk in his direction. He waits for me to get to him and wraps his tiny hand in mine.

  “You wanna go see the ocean, bubba?”

  He looks up with his bright blue eyes and beams at me. He nods his head vigorously. Griffin walks up beside us, walking with us to the beach. When our feet hit the sand, I let go of Trent’s hand.

  “Go ahead, little man,” Griffin tells him, and he runs through the sand.

  We stand and watch him as he picks up seashells that have washed ashore. The breeze from the ocean blows his hair. His hair, the same color of the sand.

  “I can’t get over how much he looks like him,” Griffin confesses, watching Trent.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  It wouldn’t hurt near as much if he wasn’t the spitting image of his dad. Just a constant reminder, staring me in the face every day. A constant, painful reminder wrapped up in my precious, innocent baby boy.

  “I won’t ask any questions, and I won’t push you on anything. Scout’s honor,” he promises, holding up his hand. I pull him in for a hug.

  “Thank you, Griffin, for everything.” He had been here beside me through it all, doing everything that a brother would do. “I wish I would have found you sooner in life. You’re everything I could want for a brother.”

  “I’d do anything for my little sis,” he assures, releasing me. “We may not have been in each other’s lives for long, but that doesn’t change a thing.”

  “Uncie Giff!” Trent races back towards us, waving something in his hand. He stops in front of us, panting and out of breath. He extends his arm and drops a small crab by our feet. “Dinner!” he exclaims, giggling. His eyes sparkle and his smile reaches them while we laugh with him. The poor little crab scrambles away from us, back towards the water.

  “You hungry, little man?” Griffin asks him, ruffling up his already messy hair. Trent nods, his smile lighting up my dark world. “Let’s go get us some food,” he proposes, turning back towards the house with Trent hot on his heels. I slowly follow them to the house, taking my time, my feet drifting through the sand.

  WHEN WE GET BACK TO THE HOUSE, Griffin orders us pizza for dinner instead of eating the crab Trent caught. Griffin pulls out two wine glasses, setting them on the counter in front of me. He pulls out a bottle of Merlot from the wine rack, pouring us each a glass. Walking around the island, he sits down beside me, handing me my glass.

  “I hope you don’t mind, I only have one of the guest rooms ready,” he gestures towards Trent who’s sitting on the floor playing with his cars.

  “One room is more than enough,” I tell him, taking a sip of my wine. “I planned on Trent just sleeping in my bed anyways. That way he’s close, in case he wakes up in the middle of the night.”

  “If you’re sure,” he replies as the doorbell rings. He rises to his feet, grabbing his wallet from the counter. “We can always set the other one up tomorrow,” he pauses in the doorway, waiting for my response.

  “I’m more than sure,” I smile at his generosity. He gives me a small nod and leaves the room to fetch the pizza from the delivery guy.

  Griffin returns with a delicious smelling pie made of dough, sauce, and cheese. We all get settled at the table and dig in. Well, we both eat, while Trent literally digs in. He ends up in a mess of sauce, his little cheeks covered in red, with specks of oregano stuck to his face. I glance at Griffin, taking in his face full of amusement as he watches my little person fumble with his food. His eyes meet mine, and I mouth, “sorry”. He smiles and shrugs, the mess not bothering him a bit.

  “Why don’t I throw this little guy in the bath while you get your room situated,” Griffin suggests as he begins clearing the table of our plates. Trent watches him, with a toothy grin on his face.

  “That would be perfect,” I tell him while he scoops Trent up. Trent’s giggles fill the room, and it’s like music to my ears. Griffin leads us through the house and up the stairs to our room. It’s a vast room, across the hall from his, occupied with dark wood furniture and a king sized bed. One side of the room is completely made up of windows with two french doors leading to a large balcony that overlooks the sea. The view is breathtaking.

  “You get settled while I get this monster cleaned up,” Griffin says from
the doorway, noting my awe of the room. “I brought your stuff up earlier,” he nods towards our bags on the bed.

  “Like I said,” I smile, “such a wonderful brother.”

  “You better remember that when I piss you off!” he calls, walking out of the room.

  “Little ears!” I call back out to him, reminding him of language in front of Trent. After one of his first words being shit, I’ve been trying really hard to not swear in front of him. His little mind is like a sponge, and fuck me if he doesn’t repeat everything.

  “I meant mad. Mad, not piss,” he calls back, “Shit!” I hear him as he turns on the faucet, “I mean shoot!” A whole hearted laugh escapes my lips while I open up our suitcases. It’s not easy, but he’ll get it.

  THE SUN SLOWLY SETS TO THE WEST, turning the sky dark. With Trent all tucked in bed, I stand out on the balcony from my room overlooking the water. The moon casts its light across the water and it shimmers as the waves crash against the shore. Softly, the door to Griffin’s room opens and closes. He walks up and stands against the railing beside me. We stand there silently, a moment or two passing, just soaking in the beautiful sight.

  “When do you plan on talking to him?” Griffin asks, not taking his eyes from the ocean.

  “Soon,” I whisper.

  I’m afraid to see him, afraid to talk to him. He needs an explanation. He deserves to hear about it all. And more importantly, he needs to understand why I left. Why exactly I had to leave.

  “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? To hear what I have to say?” I ask him.

  “Then fuck him,” Griffin scoffs. “If he doesn’t hear you out, then he’s more of an idiot than I thought he was.”

  “You can’t blame him if he doesn’t want to,” I counter, turning to look at him. “Look at what I’ve done to him.” I throw my arms out in frustration.

 

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