Page 129 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

“What’re you thinking?” he asks.

I reach for my water bottle and twist the cap open, taking a sip before I swallow this pill. “I’m not having second guesses if that’s what you’re thinking… I was just.” I shrug. “I was thinking about my future.” I plop the pill into my mouth and swallow it down with a decent amount of water.

“What about your future?”

“I’m going to go to school to become a detective. I was wondering what my father would think or how he would feel. I know it’s stupid to think about considering all that he’s done, but I can’t help myself but think about it. Is that wrong?”

Alec licks his lips and moves behind me. His arms come around my waist, pulling me back so I’m leaning against him. “He’s your father. You’re going to have those feelings. I also think that you’d be a damn good detective.”

I smile at the compliment and lean into him a little more. “You think so?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, because I already sent in my application.”

***

I stare out the window, chewing on my thumb, waiting for the mail truck to pull up. I don’t think I’ve been this nervous before simply waiting for a piece of paper to tell me whether I am accepted.

It’s been a dream of mine to attend the best college in New England. Academically, I should have been accepted when I was planning to be a nurse, but unfortunately, standards had put my application on the back burner.

This time, I pushed harder. I spoke directly to the school directory, and I wouldn’t say I begged for them to let me in, but…

Who am I kidding? I begged hardcore. If I were in person, I’d be on my hands and near with tears streaming down my face, begging them to let me enroll even though it’s late in the season.

I guess after expressing my trauma and updating them on both my mother and father, they felt bad. Was it wrong to use that as leverage to get an application in? Yes, but it worked.

And for that, I don’t feel bad.

The truck pulls up, and I eagerly watch as the mailman walks up to the front of the apartment. He’s not in view from where I’m peeking out of the window, so I wait casually until he’s walking back and getting inside the truck. As soon as he drives away, I leap up, run down the stairs and grab the mail from the box. I flip through a few of the envelopes addressed to Alec, but I have a mini heart attack as soon as I see my name in bold letters.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

This is it.

I head back inside, nervously tapping the stack of mail in my palm. When the door closes, I sit at the bar-like counter and stare at the letter. My anxiety is taking over, my heart beating a mile a minute, and now I’m wishing Alec wasn’t two hours away with the band… I would have him open it instead.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I inhale deeply before my shaky hands pick up the crisp white envelope. I turn it over and slide my finger in the corner to tear the paper, pulling out the paper.

Another deep breath, and I slowly unfold the paper with my eyes squeezed shut. I open one eye, making a small glance down at it, but both eyes shoot open when my eyes land on the first sentence.

Oh my god.

Chapter Forty-seven

Summer

Heaviness sits in the center of my chest as I stand in front of the high-security prison where my father is. I haven’t bothered to make an appearance, unable to face the man who nearly shattered my well-being.

The thought of all the crimes that the men stuck here have committed sends a shiver down my spine. This building holds nothing but darkness. It stands tall, almost like a fortress of stone, surrounded by high fences topped with spiraling coils of razor wire.

My breath hitches in my throat, fear clogging my pores. I take a deep breath to settle my insides, but dread washes over me as I walk through the metal gate entrance. A vivid replay of one of my favorite childhood memories makes an appearance, and I let my mind take me back to that place.

***

It’s my sixth birthday. The sun shines bright, and the cool fall breeze pricks my skin, creating goosebumps as Mom and Dad blindfold me. Mom holds my hand, guiding me out the front door. She makes sure I don’t trip over myself like I do all the time. My skinned knees prove just how clumsy I am.

The sound of the garage doors slides upward, and I stand, eagerly waiting to see my big surprise.

---