Worth It All (All #3)

by Marie Wathen

  “Yes, he’s still alive,” she says matter-of-factly, rising regally from the seat.

  “What?” I jerk my head up and immediately wish that I hadn’t. Pops of white light blur my vision, like there are a million camera bulbs snapping off at the same time. Weakly, I push up from the table and my knees buckle, dragging me down to the floor. “How?” I murmur, unable to believe it so. My dad’s alive in the dungeon. A bead of sweat forms along the back of my neck before rolling down the center of my spine. “No.”

  “The government never confirmed that he died, Bug,” she explains sharply. “Now, stand up, because I won’t carry you. We’re leaving.” Julia jerks me up by my shirtsleeve and I scramble to my feet.

  “Where…where are we going?” I want to ask more questions about my dad’s location and demand that we go save him, but feeling a terrible wave of nausea moving through my stomach, I instead whimper and moan, “What’s wrong with me, Julia? I feel…oh, God, I feel so bad…”

  “Good,” she gloats, towing me roughly out the front door and toward her car.

  “Stop, I’m going to throw up.” I moan low again, falling down roughly onto the hot asphalt driveway, burning my palms and knees. “Oh, God.”

  “I’ve been told that Ryske feels like that at first,” Julia discloses casually while opening the passenger door before walking around to the driver’s side. What is she talking about? “Get off the ground. I’m taking you away.” With fading strength, I force my way up and slowly crawl into the car. “Some place that you will forget everything, and I will get a break from seeing your repulsive face. God, I am so sick of being the one stuck dealing with you,” she reveals, staring off at our house. Her words don’t shock me. She’s always hated me, but I never understood why. I don’t have to wait long for that answer. “That bitch of a mother had to go and leave you behind for me to deal with. I fucking hate Casandria. And you. Your father, that rat bastard, thought he could keep it all from me.” She laughs deeply and the evilness of it scares the hell out of me. “What a fool. He will pay dearly, once and for all.”

  Confused and feeling worse, I slump my weak body against the door, placing the edge of my forehead onto the cool glass. Focus, I encourage myself. Dad is still alive and she’s getting rid of me. Just as I issue that order, a hot sensation deep within my mind begins blurring these important facts, friendly faces, and…my life.

  “Since, very soon, you won’t remember any of this I will tell you that if I could permanently get rid of you, I would.” I turn too quickly, looking at her and my head begins swimming. A current of disgust rolls through her hateful words. “Oh yes, you disgusting spawn, I definitely would. Unfortunately, you are the key to everything I want.”

  Without checking for traffic, she backs the car down the driveway fast and then squeals the tires while whipping it around toward the entrance of our cul-de-sac. Stomping on the brake, she glares across the car and I shake with terror from the evil darkening in her eyes. “My sacrifices will be worth it all one day when I can be with the man I love, and my son. I only have to wait five more years for you to turn nineteen before we can get what is rightfully ours. More importantly, I will finally be rid of you.” Twitching after that emotional release, she glances into the rearview mirror, pushes a wayward strand of hair back into place and then while reapplying lipstick, like a normal person, she reveals, “For now, you’re going away where you’ll receive enough Ryske to remove all of these damn memories.” She cuts her eyes toward me and hisses, “Especially Mars.”

  Something strange happens while I stare at her. For the first time in my life, and as clear a day, I can actually read the truth written on her face, as if it were an advertisement on an interstate billboard. What she is telling me is fact, she wants me dead.

  Chapter One

  Breesan (Present day…)

  It wasn’t real, I convince myself as I wake up, panting wildly in my bed after having a crazy nightmare about my dead stepmother. I try to grab hold of the cords of the dubious dream, but it’s like running my fingers through fog; I can’t grasp it and within seconds it disappears completely. “Ouch,” I moan softly. My head really freaking hurts. I roll onto my side, wincing when I feel a sharp pinch on my right temple, and I squeeze my eyes against the pain.

  “How are you feeling?” A soft voice asks, breaking the silence in the room. I open my eyes, shocked to find a Julia look-a-like sitting at the foot of my bed.

  “What happened?” I scoot up, pressing my back against the headboard for stability. My vision blurs, but I keep my eyes locked on her, needing answers. “Who are you and how in the hell did you get into my house?”

  Smiling kindly, she rises up and stands at the end of the bed before responding, “You bumped the side of your head when you blacked out.” She points at her temple, and I nod slowly, still feeling a little overwhelmed with finding her here. Sliding my hand cautiously through my hair, I actually feel my pulse throbbing in a goose-egg size lump just above my ear. I wince a second time, and she makes a face like she understands that it hurts. She says, “Like I told you before, I think that I’m your mother. You are Breesan Maxwell, right?”

  Watching her face another moment to read her for deception, but not finding anything, I finally answer, “I am.” She walks around the other side of the bed, putting several feet between us. Her smile becomes a nervous smirk while her eyes jump around like she’s trying to absorb everything rapidly.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, focusing on me again. “Do you need a doctor or would you like me to leave? I really don’t want to freak you out anymore, so I can go and then come back at a better time.”

  “No,” I hold up my hand. “I think I’m better now,” I answer honestly, twisting around and draping my legs over the edge of the bed. “Thank you. I think I just need another minute.” My head is swimming in a shallow pool of awareness about what happened. I force my eyes to center on her while I recall the last moments before I blacked out.

  Earlier, when I spotted what I thought was the ghost of my recently-dead stepmother sitting on my bed, I freaked a little. Then when she spoke and told me that she wasn’t Julia, but that she thinks she’s my mother – the woman who supposedly died during my birth – well, I sort of flipped. My mind completely shut down and I passed out. Hell, it was bound to happen sooner or later. After everything that I’ve been through these last couple of months, between seeing one of my friends shot and then having my best friend abducted, both right in front of me, I’m surprised I lasted this long. To top all of that off, since middle school I have been suffering with anxiety attacks after a minor psychotic break that put me in treatment for a year, and I haven’t taken my prescription since all of this craziness began.

  A sudden foreboding feeling creeps into my skin and sinks deep within my soul. Why do I feel an impending doom looming over me while staring at this woman? It feels like destiny is getting off on pranking me. Could she really be my mother? How can I trust her when my damn internal lie detector feels like it’s malfunctioning again? Forcing myself back out of my one-girl pity party, I glance out the open window after feeling a cool breeze brush against my exposed skin, noticing the sky is darkening.

  I sigh and whisper to myself, “How long have I been out?”

  “It’s been a few hours.” I shift my gaze back to her, noticing a sadness eclipsing her eyes before she glances away. “I hope you don’t mind that I went downstairs to look around while you slept. It’s been so long since I was here. I can’t believe how different everything is.”

  “You did what?” My heart thumps against my ribcage, thinking about this stranger going through my things all while I was out, but my curiosity trumps my fear. “Wait…you’ve been here before?”

  “Yes.” Nodding her head slowly, she turns around and glances at me with sad brown eyes, “It was a lifetime ago; I was a teenager the first time I visited this house,” She sighs, “So, your father really did marry Julia?”

  “I’m sorry, I
don’t mean to be rude to you, but I need to know how you got into my house and why you think that you’re my mother.” I can’t let her emotions distract me from getting the facts–the truth–out of her.

  “Breesan,” she starts cautiously before pointing a thin finger toward the chair beside my desk, silently requesting permission to sit. I nod. “I have a lot of questions, too, and I think if we work together maybe we can get all the answers that we both need.”

  Defensively, I state, “After you answer my questions, I’ll consider giving you a chance to ask yours.”

  She stares at me for several moments, her face unreadable, and when she does speak, she appears more confident. “First, you need to believe that I didn’t know that you were alive, Breesan.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “You thought that I died?” She nods and covers her mouth with her hand, letting out a heavy breath as tears pools in her eyes. “Why would you think that I was dead?”

  After taking several deep breaths to calm down, she asks, “May I ask you a question first?” I nod cautiously, feeling my body tense up, uncertain of what she would want to know. “What were you told about me?”

  “I’m not sure if I’m comfortable telling a total stranger everything about me.” Raising my chin, I add, “Look, you came here, broke into my house and I don’t even know your name. How am I supposed to trust that you are who you say you are and tell you anything?”

  “That’s fair, and smart of you.” I’m not so convinced. I really should make her leave or call the cops. Why do I feel like I need to hear her story? She smiles sweetly. “My name is Casandria Madison.” My heart clenches as soon as she utters my mother’s name. “Julia is…was my older sister. I grew up on Willow Island, so I always knew your father. It wasn’t until high school that he even knew that I existed. Brendt was a few years older. He was handsome, nice, and very popular. He had many girlfriends, and I didn’t factor into any of that. I was a book nerd and kept to myself most of the time.” I nod, understanding exactly what that feels like, and Casandria’s smile drops slightly after a soft sigh. “It wasn’t until senior year in high school when I was invited to a party where he was hanging out with all the other jocks that he asked a random girl to dance.” She points to herself. “Of course I said yes. We drank a little too much beer.” She winces and averts her eyes, appearing embarrassed by her actions before adding, “And then he kissed me. We didn’t start dating immediately because he was away at college, but when he came back, he asked me out.” A tiny smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Not long after my graduation, he asked me to marry him, and I was elated. I was going to marry the only man I ever loved.” Keeping her eyes cast down, she clears her throat before supplying, “We started an intimate relationship and soon I discovered that I was pregnant. Your dad had just left for his first deployment with the military. Shockingly, he was so happy. Actually, he couldn’t wait for you to get here.” Looking directly at me she divulges, “He knew that you would be a girl. He is the one who picked your name. It is a combination of our names.” I remember my dad telling me about the uniqueness of my name. Her eyes sparkle while she’s sharing this part, but instantly the light fades and sadness engulfs her dark eyes. “There were complications early on in my pregnancy. I was put on bed rest after my fifth month and then…” she pauses while she stands, wrapping her arms around her body and walking over to the window.

  “Are you all right?” I feel tense from the details of her story and also a little bit sorry, seeing that she is really pained by sharing her past.

  “Yes, I’m sorry.” She nods, turning around to face me again, and I see that her eyes are swimming in unshed tears. “Honey, I-I…” I slide off the bed, feeling drawn to her and wanting to ease her anxiety. My head feels somewhat better so I cross the room slowly until I am standing directly in front of her. She is about six inches taller so she stares down at me. Slowly she lifts her hand, touching cool fingertips under my chin tenderly. “The morning you were born I was rushed to the hospital. My water broke and you were breech. I was put to sleep so the doctor could do an emergency C-section. When I woke up, they told me you had died.” She keeps her eyes locked on mine, and I watch as the pain turns over and over through them, muting the shine of the golden flecks. “I couldn’t believe it and demanded to see you, but because of the surgery I couldn’t get out of the bed, and they said it was against hospital policy to bring your body to me. The next morning I insisted on seeing you. Finally they took me to the morgue.” She sniffs and the tears roll down her cheeks. She drops her hand from my face to catch them with her fingertips. “You were so tiny and beautiful. I held you in my arms and cried for the life that was stolen from us. It was the most heartbreaking moment of my life, Breesan. I couldn’t let you go. How could I put your little body in the ground and cover it with dirt? It wasn’t fair. A parent should never bury their child. Never.” Her cries are hard now, and my own eyes begin to burn. “It was so difficult for me that my stability broke. I was admitted into the psychiatric unit two days after you were born.”

  Casandria slumps down onto the floor and I sit with her. Taking my hand, she strokes her fingers over my palm repeatedly before intertwining them with mine. I stare at our hands, laced together and feel a surge of happiness about the possibility of her really being my mother. Her eyes hold a tremendous amount of suffering from this loss. I want to believe her, but I can’t tell if it’s the truth. Something is off about her story and what my dad told me. I need to know more.

  “What happened after that?”

  “Breesan, I hesitate telling you the rest because it’s very difficult.” She looks down at her lap. “You may not like what I have to tell you, but I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. If we are to get through this then everything must come out. I’m not asking you to trust me yet, just hear me out.” She glances at me quickly before looking down at her lap again. “My feelings won’t be hurt if you can’t believe all of this today. I understand that you’ll need to verify things. I just want you to give me a chance and then do your own investigating. Please?” I watch her face for any signs of deception. She looks me straight in the eye, not giving away anything. I’m so disappointed that I can’t read her better. I nod and wait for her to tell me everything.

  “About a month after I was admitted into the hospital, Julia came for a visit. I was surprised to see her because we never had a close relationship. She was very hateful to me most of my life. It didn’t take long for me to find out that she only came by to hurt me.” Still staring at me, she says, “Julia told me that Brendt never loved me and that they had been dating behind my back while I was pregnant. She said that he proposed and they would be marrying.” I gasp out loud. I can’t believe that my dad could really ever love Julia. I thought he married her just because he wanted me to have a mother. Casandria’s forehead crinkles, but she continues to explain. “I thought he loved me, but he never once visited. I was all alone–no family, no sisters, no husband, and was told that the baby I wanted more than anything had died. My original breakdown was nothing compared to the mental blow I took after their betrayal. Several weeks later, I woke up to find that I had been moved to the psychiatric floor in a hospital in Southampton, England. I was still just a child myself and scared out of my mind. With no money to return home, I stayed at the facility and, over time, I healed.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, tightening my grip on her hand encouragingly. Casandria offers the sweetest smile, and my heart warms looking into the face of my mother.

  “If I had known…If I could have returned…Breesan, you must believe me. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say or how to make up for all of those years we lost. I promise you that I will do everything I can to make things right. After reading about Julia’s death on the internet, I came back for the funeral, but I think now I want to stay…for you, if you’ll just give me a chance. None of this is easy for me, so I can only imagine how you must be feeling.”

 
I remain silent for a little while trying to process everything, but my mind and my heart are in competition against each other at the moment. Confusion about this whole scene is whipping my ass. My heart really wants to believe every word, desiring to accept her story at face value, but my mind warns that I need to be cautious. Really though, when has protecting my heart ever helped? Honestly, I can’t get a read on her and I don’t know what Casandria expects showing up here like this, but what can it hurt to give her a chance? After all, I’ve always kept my heart locked tight, but recently I promised that I would open it for anyone who wants to love me. Is that was Casandria wants?

  Chapter Two

  Morgan

  “What do you think?” I ask Marcus as we exit the small hospital on the island of Ludelle, a district of Haiti. “Is the guy’s story believable? Because I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know how much of that bullshit is true. Then again, what would a dying man gain from telling lies like that?”

  “Morgan, I don’t know what to believe. If he was paid that much money to do those things to Breesan…”

  “Hey,” I reach out, gripping Marcus’ shoulder. He stops walking and turns to face me. “I hate that she’s some sick fucker’s target as much as you do, but she’s safe right now. We have to figure out how to get the other girls back before it’s too late.” My voice is thick with emotion, but I continue. “Marcus, whatever it takes, I’m all in on this thing. Let me help. I need to do this.” He simply nods, turns away and together we catch up with Tac who continued walking toward the rental car.