Page 102 of An Unexpected Home

“But you had people here!” he shouted. “And now you have more people. Nobody even seems to care that you were a part of ruining people's lives.”

“But I wasn’t,” she said, hoping that she was making sense to him. “I was a victim just like you. I lost everything and my only saving grace was this town, these people. They didn’t judge me by what my family did. But you, Will, no one is judging you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were the one that was wronged.”

“That’s not going to bring my mom back or the money,” he spat out, but she could tell that he was softening, especially talking about his mom.

“I know that,” she soothed her voice. “Nothing can change what my dad and uncle did but you, Will, you have to go on. You have the voice to go out and make sure other people don’t get taken advantage of. Something good can come from this.”

“No,” he said adamantly. “I want you to pay like I had to pay.”

She rubbed her lips together trying to find more words that would bring him down from his crazy place.

“Although,” he said, his eyes gleaming with evil, “maybe the only way for you to pay is for you to lose someone, like I lost my mom.”

The first thought that came to her was her own mom. And even though they weren’t talking because of her mom not being able to handle being poor, Leah still didn’t want anything to happen to her.

“No please, don’t hurt my mom,” she begged.

“Not your mom,” he sneered. “You don’t even love her. But there is someone you love...”

She didn’t have time to correct him on the fact that she did still love her mom because it hit her that he was talking about Brandon. “No,” she gasped. “Not Brandon.” Her fear began to feel real.

“I see I have your attention now.”

“You can’t hurt Brandon,” she pleaded. The tears that had subsided while she was trying to reason with him were back, streaming down her cheeks and falling onto her lap.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Will told her, getting up from his chair and walking toward the gas can in the corner, “but I will...if I have to.”

“I’ll do anything,” she said. “Anything at all to make sure that Brandon is safe.”

“That’s good,” he said. “Because if you don’t, then I will be forced to light his house on fire. And with him tied up, he won’t have a chance in hell of getting out.”

Was Brandon already tied up at his house? She couldn’t be sure with Will, but if he was, she could in no way let Will go there. She had to do what he wanted.

“You’re going to break up with him,” he said, walking closer to her. “I figure that should sufficiently break his heart and yours.”

“Will making two people miserable really make you feel better about your mother’s death?” She knew she was taking a chance by not saying she would do it, but she had a plan.

He stared at her, his expression letting her know that he didn’t appreciate being questioned. But she went on, needing to do something.

“It won’t if you’re wondering,” she said. “Sure you’ll have ruined the best thing to ever happen to me and broken both Brandon’s and my hearts, but the reality is that your mom will still be dead. You’ll still have to wake up each day knowing that she is not there for you.”

“Shut up!” he spit out. “Just fucking shut up!”

“No,” she said, fear gone and love now running the show. “Nothing you do will bring your mom back, just like nothing I do will make my dad not be in prison. I have to wake up every day with the knowledge that my dad ruined hundreds of lives; that there are now families out there who can barely afford to live because of him.”

Will was softening or at least she hoped so. The anger that had covered his face just minutes before was gone and replaced with sadness. The whole time they had been talking she had been slowly loosening the rope that was tied around her hands. Her wrists were burning and if she had to guess, they were probably bleeding, but that wasn’t something she could worry about right now. She needed Will to let down his guard just a little bit and maybe, just maybe if she could get the ropes off, she could overpower him and get away.

“Will, listen to me,” she said. “Your mom would hate what you are doing. She would be angry and horrified about the man that you’ve become. Not only that, but by doing this, you are doing something worse than what my dad and uncle did. You are falling to their level. And you are better than them. So much better.” Finally the rope gave and her hands were free. Now she just had to wait for the right moment.

“You say my mom would hate this, but I don’t think so.” He was standing about a foot in front of her. “She didn’t give a damn about me when she went and killed herself. So why should I care what she would think about me?”

His body was relaxed and his head was down. If she was going to make a move, this was the best time. Plus, the gun that he’d had earlier was sitting on the table several feet from them both. If she could somehow knock him down and reach the gun before him, she would be in the clear.

She lifted herself and the chair since her feet were tied to it and lunged forward with all her force, knocking Will to the floor and landing on top of him. His head hit the floor hard. So hard, that she heard the tile crack. He was barely moving and she knew she had to move fast if she wanted to get the gun before he could. She awkwardly rolled toward the table but just as she reached out for the gun, she was pulled backward by the chair that was still attached to her.

Thinking fast, she let herself be pulled backward, actually pushing herself harder so that maybe the force would incapacitate him. She felt when the chair made contact with him and heard him groan. His grip loosened and she scrambled once again toward the table. This time she made it and grabbed the gun, turning quickly to face Will. He was holding his side with one hand and the back of his head with the other.

“Don’t move!” she shouted pointing the gun down toward him. She had never held a gun in her life and doing so now while her wrists were chafed and bloody was not ideal. But somehow, with her life on the line, she found the strength.

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