by Marie Wathen
Finally finding the courage to face my father, I invited him over for dinner that same night. After I made it clear that I was only interested in the facts about my mother’s plans since abandoning me with Julia, and not reconnecting with him or discussing my friends, he gave me all of the gory details. Unfortunately for me, as he was leaving that night, he broke his vow when he told me about Marcus’ choice to leave me for another woman, my mother. He left me for her.
Rocked to the core, I couldn’t process any of it. One moment, I was completely in love with the sweetest man that I’ve ever met, and then the next I was thrown viciously toward the darkness, terrified and falling apart. It’s over and I choose to let him go, because I refuse to focus on that pain. Undeniably, the sorrow still remains, but I’m not going to fade into the brokenness, welcoming me back with open arms. Shutting most of the world away, I decided relocating to Miami would help me deal. Truthfully, I know that I’m just masking the heartache, but given the situation, I’m doing the best that I can and I intend to survive the fallout.
Even after rescuing me from the castle, Morgan apparently decided before I awoke that it was best to stay far away. I guess that I can’t blame him. Just like the nasty little drug that my mother is responsible for creating, I’m also a risk at making other’s lives toxic. I did get an email from him, requesting a favor, which turned out to be more for Waverly than for him.
With two nurses living onsite, she now has around-the-clock care in a brand new house located near the lagoon. I hold the deed, but the extravagant dwelling wasn’t bought with my money. Although, I despise lying, the Collins family wouldn’t accept Morgan’s generous offer to help, so I willingly agreed to be an accomplice.
Except for just a few broken memories from our childhood, Tristan is almost completely back to normal, but the black spots are causing awkwardness between him and Anna. They are remaining connected, but are agreeing on taking it slow. Since the passing of his father and uncle, Tristan accepted his grandfathers offer to assist him with WC temporarily. He promises that he’ll join me at U of M soon, and part of me is eagerly anticipating that day. The pessimist in me thinks if he comes he’ll only be in danger of becoming a victim again. Therefore, I feel guilty about wanting him here.
Tox and the imposters, Candy and Wren, managed to escape the castle during the manhunt my dad initiated that horrid night. At the time, I thought Declan shot Tox during their struggle as I ran away, but after a blood sample was taken and analyzed, it was confirmed that the victim of the stray bullet was one of the women. It’s uncertain which one, but they determined the gender easily because of the added hormones, indicating a pregnancy.
With my mother disappearing somewhere out in the Atlantic Ocean on her fancy yacht, and Tyle unexplainably MIA, the citizens of Willow Island are safe at the moment from Ryske. Ensley is going through treatment for her withdrawals, slowly weaning her body off of the drug that is no longer easily obtainable. That’s good news, but I hate that she is suffering. Rhys survived the horrible accident. Thank God. The white panel van linked to the hit and run was discovered abandoned, sunk into the ocean on the north shore. The driver is still yet to be apprehended. Upon being released from the hospital, Rhys’ doctors warned him to take it easy for the next month so that he doesn’t cause further damage to his liver and lungs. Of course, being the ass that he is, Rhys bitched, not wanting to be confined inside to his house, and because he’s not allowed to drink or smoke.
Before he was even out of recovery, Sam divulged to everyone that she and Rhys secretly married a year ago. She says that she is fully prepared to leave the DTF if they won’t allow the couple to work together, but she vows never to leave his side. My dad assured her that he didn’t give a damn about their relationship status, as long as it didn’t prevent them from doing their jobs. Clearly, they can handle anything that gets thrown their way. Sam has forgiven me for what happened that horrible night in the parking lot at Club Toxic. She even sent word back through Kole that she wants my forgiveness, too. I’m not ready to face her or anyone back home yet. I don’t know if I will ever be ready to show my face there again.
I despise what my mother has done to everyone I care about. But mostly, I can’t believe that I could actually come from someone so malevolent. To know that she is the vile Dr. A, makes me sick. How can one person care about money and possessions so much, that they can disregard life so easily, and jeopardize their own child’s safety? I’m no expert when it comes to relationships, but even I know that you don’t treat people like cattle, giving them experimental drugs until you perfect the combination of ingredients that will allow you to control people for your pleasing.
According to Brendt, Casandria never wanted either of us. She devised a plan to get the Andrew’s family riches, starting with convincing my uncle Declan that she loved him, and if he wanted her in his bed, he would have to marry her.
My grandmother, Vivian Andrews, may have been a controlling bitch, but she saw right through my gold-digging mother’s plan. She forced Declan to choose between his family and that trollop. He chose incorrectly. My mother was livid that he accepted being disowned so easily, and immediately forced him into another devilish plan. Many years before meeting my mother, he had already established a relationship with my aunt Julia. And she fell instantly. Like a love-sick school girl, Julia would do anything for Declan. He swept her off her feet and in the process of courting she became pregnant with his child, Mattox. In his own twisted way, Declan may have loved his son, but their biological connection would never be enough to steal his affections from the love of his life-his A’rea. Apparently, this is how the ominous name for the most sought after drug lord was created. Using the money Declan’s father gave him they created a drug that she hoped would become the perfect weapon to control my grandmother, by controlling her son’s mind. They travelled the world, hiding out while concocting what they believed was a foolproof plan.
Over the next few years, their scheming became more and more elaborate. While Declan was leading on her sister, Casandria pursued Brendt. When she thought that he too might fail at convincing his mother into accepting her as his wife, she intentionally got pregnant with me. She was expecting to force my grandmother’s hand. Her little idea didn’t work on my hard-nosed grandmother, and Vivian divvied out an identical punishment to the previous one given to her eldest son. Upon hearing my grandmother’s decree, Brendt decided that he would do everything in his power to take care of his new little family appropriately. His first step was to join the military and then marry the woman he loved. When Cas realized that she would be screwed out of the fortune for a second time, and left to raise a child that she did not want, while he was off on deployments, she lost her mind. The affect of her downfall accounts for her most sinister plan.
She faked her own death, leaving me in the spiteful care of her sister, Julia.
Working together, Casandria, Declan and Julia abducted Brendt, locking him inside the castle dungeon. My father was her personal guinea pig for years. Instead of forming him into her minion, as she hoped, the first few rounds of Ryske made him very ill, and then he was asleep for a long time. Cas became bored with administering his meds directly, especially without the instant results that she expected. Vivian passed without amending her will, making either of her sons’ benefactors, so she and Declan began producing Ryske for financial gain. She turned Brendt over to her sister for safeguarding, which was probably the worst decision she made throughout this whole ordeal. Cayde secretly loved Brendt before he hooked up with my mother. She did everything in her power to help him recover from the Ryske doping, including getting him out of the dungeon and detoxing him from Ryske.
For five long, miserable years, my father lived nearby and watched me from afar. He says that he kept his distance for my protection, but really, how am I supposed to feel hearing such utter bullshit? Yes, he formed the small drug task force unit assigned to tracking her down and stopping the spread of this deadly drug th
at the world was tormented with, but I was also suffering. He could have rescued me and hidden me from her greedy clutches. But no, he chose to watch me go through five more years of hell with the wickedest stepmother ever. All the while, Julia secretly dosed me with Ryske, making me forget the details of my mother being the bad guy in this whole evil plot. That was when she told me that I suffered a psychotic break and needed treatment and daily medication. With my system completely free of the toxin, I remember everything. I even remember seeing my mother at Club Toxic, the night someone drugged me with a nearly lethal dose of the poison. She was the person who plunged the needle into the back of my neck. People who claim that ignorance is bliss just may know what they’re talking about. Part of me wishes that I was still living inside myself, broken and oblivious. God, do you know how desperately I want to forget the world?
“Ya, so, you and your friend there, should hang with me tonight, yeah?” the guy asks, pulling me away from my stupor. I blink away the fragments of pain, snaking through my veins, and turn to look at Jama hoping for an explanation.
“Z wants us to go out with him to one of the downtown clubs. They’re eighteen and over,” she enlightens, giving me a pleading look to accept his offer.
“I’m not sure that I’m up for going out to a club just yet.” I look to her, needing her to understand, and not insist that I partake.
“Ah, come on, lovely,” Z croons, scooting over next to me. One of his knees intentionally jams into mine and he smiles sweetly. “I promise to take care of you. In fact, I won’t let you out of arms reach.” He stretches both hands in front of him, displaying the distance jokingly. “And, when you ladies are ready to leave, it will be my responsibility as designated driver to get you home in one piece.”
Shaking my head and closing my book, I ague, “If I did decide to go out with you, I won’t be drinking.”
“You’re considering it then?” He smiles brilliantly, producing two deep dimples on either side of his dark pink lips. This man is really cute, and his hopefulness is kind of endearing. “Excellent!”
I sigh. “I didn’t say that.”
Hoping for backup, I turn to Jama, but instead of agreeing, she nods at him eagerly and says, “I think an hour or two out won’t hurt a thing, Breesan.”
Because I couldn’t care less about going out, I don’t bother changing out of my tee-shirt and jeans. I do untangle my long hair from the ponytail that I’ve had it in all day and let it drape naturally down my back. Jama picks me up at ten and we meet up with Z fifteen minutes later outside of the club he claims is one of the city’s hottest, although there isn’t a crowd circling the block. However, once inside, I get what he was talking about. The place is filled with students and the live band is performing cover songs from some of my favorite Indie bands. We grab an empty table and before long, I begin to relax. Z talks a lot about all the ‘in’ things around town and Jama hangs on every word. Looks like my friend may have a bit of a crush on the cute guy. Hopefully, he could be just the thing to distract her from daydreaming about reuniting with Kole.
There it is again. Just when I think I’m having a Willow-free moment, something or someone drags me right back.
“Z,” I interrupt his latest rant about the coffee shops off campus and ask, “Could you get me that drink now?”
His eyes pull away from Jama and swoop over to meet mine. He smiles roguishly and offers me a small nod before easing up from his chair and cutting his way through the thick crowd, congregating at the bar. Jama’s eyes are on me, I can feel them like a heater, burning against my flesh. Facing her, I smile shyly and she bursts into a fit of giggles, reminiscent of Anna.
“I didn’t think you would give in,” she claims, taking the glass Z sneakily offers her after I accept mine. No way do we want to get caught breaking the law. Underage drink is a huge no-no and typically, I’m all about enforcing them, but tonight…well, Fuck it!
“Thank you.” I slide the rim of the glass under my nose and inhale deeply. The burn hits me instantly and I’m on sensory overload. The fumes even make my eyes water. Glancing up at my peers, I smile and down the clear liquid quickly, hoping that it couldn’t possibly hurt any worse going down. Whatever this concoction is, Z isn’t messing around. This stuff could pull paint off of a wall. “Oh,” I choke, “That’s strong. Did you ask the bartender for gasoline from his car out back?”
Laughing, he tips back his glass and Jama follows suit immediately. “It’s just a little mind-numbing shot. No worries,” he claims, reaching down for his second shot glass. He lifts another one toward me, and I accept tentatively.
“I guess if you’re going to do it, do it stupidly, huh?”
He nods, clinks his glass against mine and then sucks the liquid fire down his throat. The second one smells like cinnamon, reminding me of Marcus. Staring at the red liquid, I stifle a sob. “All right, ladies,” he starts, eyeballing me until I finish off the second glassful. “Let’s get on the dance floor and show ‘em how it’s done.” Mouthing ‘no,’ I shake my head, but he doesn’t even acknowledge my refusal to embarrass myself in front of total strangers. “No one here knows you, lovely. Let’s have some fun. Tomorrow will fix itself.”
“How poetic,” I chirp, pulling on the vice-like grip he has around my wrist. “I don’t really feel like doing this, Z.” In the middle of the jam-packed dance area, he stops, spins around and wraps both arms around my waist, drawing me tightly against his hard body. Instantly, I bite down hard on my bottom lip and then look up at him. My flesh sizzles to life, feeling his warmth smoldering on the outside of my thin tee-shirt. His smiling green eyes burrow into mine and he tips his face down to press his forehead against mine.
“Breesan, I’m not taking no for an answer,” he insists. “You dance with me, or I will make you dance.” He grinds his hips into mine and I gasp, too loudly and embarrassingly. The heat runs up my neck and scorches my cheeks. “You’re really cute, you know that?” He eases off the pressure where we are connected. But with his hands sliding to cover the swell of my hips, he begins swaying us to the thumping of the low base, and I feel lightheaded at the combination of heady drinks and his seduction.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Fine, you win, but save the dirty dancing for Jama.”
His eyes flick over my head and I turn, following them staring back at our table. Unmoving, Jama is watching us. “She’s cute,” he states before looking down at me again. “But, I think I’d like to get to know her friend better.” That signature smile returns and he tells me, “And, dirty is the only way I do it, lovely.”
Eventually, Jama gets her turn on the dance floor with the swoon-worthy Z. I’m coerced into a few more dances and several more shots. The guy was right. I am completely numb, mind and all. There are no thoughts of Willow, bad guys trying to kill me, good guys lying to me ‘for my own good,’ or friends being taken away from me. And with Z’s help, there are no thoughts of Marcus Walker and how he makes my heart flutter and my brain completely gooey when he’s nearby. Or how, if only he would have stayed on the island, instead of running off with my mother, we could have possibly made things work. My heart is aching to have him hold me in his arms while we sleep. And the way he kisses me after telling me how much he loves my smile. I miss everything about him. After claiming to love me, how could he be with such a repulsive woman? How can he want my mother? I gave him more than my heart and virginity. I gave him all of me.
Staggering into the small bathroom stall, I pull out my cell and quickly send a text. Before I even have time to use the toilet, my phone begins ringing. Loudly.
“Helllloooo,” I answer, drawing out each letter with a happy voice that I don’t think I have ever used before.
“Breesan,” Anna questions, “Is that you?” Giggling, I cover my mouth and nod my head. “Breesan, is that you? What time is it there?”
“Yes, Anna, it’s me,” I finally reply after realizing that she can’t see my head moving through the speaker. “I don’t kn
ow, late?” I sigh deeply. “I miss you,” I confess pitifully.
“Are you…are you drunk?”
“Noooooo,” I lie, trying desperately to sound sober.
“That’s a lie,” she demands, “Where are you? Who are you with? Why are you drinking? Breesan, you never drink.”
“Slow down, Sally, you’re gonna run your mustang down.” I insist, slumping down to sit on the closed toilet seat, but I slip and crash onto the floor, releasing a loud cackle.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, giggling uncontrollably. The sound echoes off the walls and makes me laugh louder.
“Breesan, where are you?” she demands again, exasperatedly.
“I’m at a club with some friends. Oh,” I gasp, “I don’t think I should call them that. It’s not safe. For them.” I sigh. “Just like it was never safe for you.”
“Don’t do this,” she warns, “We have been through this already. No one blames you. None of it is your fault. Do you hear me?”
Pain from how utterly wrong my best friend’s statement is lances into my tough façade and I fall to pieces. “I miss him so much,” I confess, barely holding back the tears. “I never got to say goodbye. Like a stupid girl, I withheld everything that I was feeling. I never told him that I still love him. I didn’t even fight for us and then…I lost him.” Inhaling air is becoming difficult. I press the heel of my hand into my chest, forcing away the ache.