Page 36 of Saved By My Buyers

I’m so sorry I have to go. I tried to stay, but he broke me. I’m no good for you anymore. Gareth has taken everything from me, and it all started a year ago.

I know he’s different when he speaks to you, but he’s terrifying. Ask Jack. He saw a bit of how he treats me today before the concert.

I’m sure he’ll tell you I was crazy, or that I tried to kill myself, but that’s a lie. I have the knife he told me to use. I just don’t have it in me to give up my life.

I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger, that I couldn’t fight him off…

Sobbing, I turn my head so the ink won’t run with my tears. A part of me wants to tear up the note. It’s too raw, because that’s how I feel. The best parts of me have been ripped away, and now I feel empty.

Shuddering, I wipe my tears away. They won’t change anything. Not now, not ever.

No matter what you believe, please know that I meant it when I said I loved you.

Dolly

Sniffling, I watch as the words disappear, and I fold the note up, hoping I’ll be able to put it in her room before I have to leave. Shoving it in my pocket just in case, my eyes catch on my phone.

It’s four in the morning, which means Jack is probably asleep. God, I hope he doesn’t wake up when I text him.

“You deserve so much better than this,” I whisper.

Me:

Jack, I’m not as brave as you think I am. I wish I was. I can’t stay in this house of horrors anymore. Bronwyn isn’t safe here either. I don’t know how or if it’s possible, but please get her out. I’m leaving a note for her on her bed. Make sure she finds it. Together, my messages to you will make the most sense. All I can say is that I’m alive, and that’s what matters.

Hovering over the send button, I find one more iota of courage and press it. Deleting the text message for good measure, I whisper goodbye. Leaving the phone on the vanity, I turn away from it completely.

If I hear him respond, I won’t be able to leave. If he calls me, I’ll stay.

My backpack feels heavier than it did earlier as I walk out of the room, my gaze darting furtively as I look around. Somehow, I get to Bronwyn’s room and leave the note under her pillow before beginning to hoof it out of this fucking house.

Gareth’s knife is in my back pocket, something I’m sure I’ll need once I leave.

The house is a ghost town, no one notices as I open the front door for the last time, and walk out. The neighborhood is beginning to wake up, my hood is firmly in place, and I have no doubts that the next few nights are going to be difficult.

I’ve made my choice though, now I have to live with it.

Goodbye Bronwyn and Jack. Please take care of each other.

Chapter Seven

Four years later

Detroit, Michigan

Jack

Pressing my forehead against the freezing cold glass, I gaze down at the snowy world of Detroit from my tenth floor apartment. A lot has changed since we lost Dahlia. I sold my house because it made me depressed.

I bought it with the hope she’d live there and finish out school. I just wanted to be her support system, but I failed her.

Dahlia’s text devastated me. I wasn’t asleep when she sent it, I was nursing a single glass of whiskey all night. I immediately called her over and over, but she never answered. Then, I called Bronwyn and blew up her phone.

Her father had told her to delay her trip home, presumably because he’d hurt Dahlia so badly. Instead, I bought her fucking ticket back to Detroit and told her that she wasn’t listening to him ever again.

“You’re going to make yourself sick pressed against that glass,” Bronwyn says softly.

When she got to the Detroit airport, I picked her up and told her Dahlia had written her a letter that she’d hidden in her room. It was eleven in the morning when we snuck into the house, packed her shit up, and she read the letter under a small blacklight she took with her.

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