Page 3 of Blood Bonds

“Just filled the position, Uncle Sammy!” Then she held out her slim hand and told me, “Welcome aboard.”

After that, we became inseparable. To the point that as soon as I found out only weeks later that I was about to become homeless, she turned up at my door. She arrived with boxes and tape in hand before telling me I was moving in with her. And thank God for that, because the rent was cheap enough that it meant I had a chance at paying off the lifetime’s worth of debt that dickhead (he whom shall not be named) had gotten me into.

Of course, I had tried to go to the authorities about all the money he stole from me, as well as the fraud in using my name and my personal details to get credit cards. But seeing as everything had been in my name, it was a classic game of,he said she said. “There was no proof,” they said. “Take it to court,” theysaid. In fact, they had said a lot of things that day, and none of them were useful in repairing the shambles of my life.

I owed everything to Stacey for saving my ass, something she continued to do by letting me stay in the apartment she had inherited from her father. This meant that I simply added to the utility bills, paid barely anything in rent, and that was it. And thank Christ for it too, or there would have been no way of paying off all the shit that dickhead ex had got me in.

Dickhead was the sole reason that I had sworn off all men, and also why I had no interest in whatever this hack with a crystal ball had to say. But as for Stacey, well, I knew she was very much into all that. Something I had suspected she had been in to ever since she lost her dad in a motorbike accident. She was trying desperately to reach him on the other side.

My heart broke for her.

Which meant that if she wanted to drag me to someone who offered hope, then the least I could do was go with her without bitching… too much. Although, I am missing out on some much-loved time with BOB, the most satisfying relationship I’ve ever had… with my battery-operated boyfriend.

Of course, Stacey didn’t agree. She often told me what a waste that getting my sexual pleasure from only a toy was, a crying shame, she called it. She told me how beautiful I was, how any guy would be lucky to have me, and so on and so on. But after all the mental abuse I suffered during my last physical relationship, then I really didn’t know what she saw when she looked at me. No, I just knew it was no longer what I saw, that was for damn sure.

It was difficult to see myself as desirable after being constantly questioned, like, “Why are you eating that?” or “Do you really need a dessert?”. There were also questions like “Do you have to wear your hair that way?” or my personal favorite, “Don’t wear your makeup like that, you look like a slut.”. Allof that type of bullshit grinds you down, until one day you just don’t recognize the person you have become. You ask yourself who is the girl staring at you in the mirror and where did her bravery go? Where did she leave her confidence?

When did her light go out?

That had been two years ago but honestly, I was still healing from it. It was an emotional baggage I wasn’t ready to share with anyone other than my best friend, and I wasn’t sure I ever would be.

I knew what Stacey was doing in this place by asking me if I wanted to know about my future, husband, kids, etc.

She was trying to give me hope too.

A hope of a happy future that I had long ago snuffed out like a candle I had needed to see my way through the darkness. Instead, I had just sat down and given up, accepting my fate. Which was why I told her, in what even I consider was a sad, bitter tone,

“I don’t think that’s on the cards for me.”

Stacey gasped in horror before grabbing me and giving me a little shake. Something that wasn’t difficult considering she was five inches taller than my short five-foot-two and a half… (and yes, the half was important).

“Now you listen to me, Vanessa Cadell, you are deserving of happiness, you are worthy of love, and you are destined for greatness… I just know it!” God love her, but Stacey was like my biggest spokeswoman and personal cheerleader all in one.

She had gotten me through so much shit, that I hated knowing that she felt like she still needed to continue to do so. It was like my obscure life had some dark aura surrounding it, and all who touched it were forever tainted.

The guilt gnawed at me to the point where I hugged her to me and whispered,“I love you, my friend.”

She hugged me back, just like she had done countless time during this last two years when helping me trying to find myself…the girl I used to be.The sassy firecracker I used to be, who would have taken no shit from anyone. The girl who would have said, “hey, this is me, if you don’t like it, then that’s cool, see you never.” That was the girl I was trying to get back to. Not this shy, withdrawn, shell of my former self. I wanted to be brave again. I wanted to be bold. I wanted to feel powerful. But above all, I wanted to know what it was like to truly…

Feel loved.

I shook these depressing thoughts to the back of my mind where they deserved to stay and looked back up at what could have just been a random house on the side of the road. In fact, the only thing that made it seem like a legitimate place of business was due to where it was. A square two-story building situated next to an auto parts store, a flooring company, and a massive storage unit building that took up a large part of the street directly across the road.

“Do you think we knock?” Stacey asked, looking up at the windows on the first floor that were covered in cobwebs and surrounded by rotting wooden frames.

“I mean, the sign says open, so maybe we just walk in?” I suggested because, well, that seemed pretty logical. Stacey shrugged her shoulders and made the first move, pulling down on the handle and no doubt expecting it to be locked like I was.

It wasn’t.

“Erm… Hello?” Stacey called out timidly, stepping further inside and taking in her surroundings just like I was.

There was a creepy vibe for sure, and the unsettling feeling fell over us both like a dark shroud. The place looked like an abandoned hardware store. A counter ran along one side, and the rest of the space held empty shelves housing nothing but dust, old cobwebs, and empty boxes. Old signs advertising paintsupplies and offers on tools to buy barely clung to the walls. I looked to Stacey and said,

“I don’t think we should…” The idea for us to leave ended the moment a figure emerged from what I gathered was a back room.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone,” a redheaded woman in her fifties said as she approached, huffing and puffing like she had been in the middle of something labor intensive.

Stacey looked down at the coupon in her hand and then handed it to the woman as she said, “Well, I saw this place advertised and… Oh.” Stacey’s words were cut short as the woman turned over the piece of paper and there was a phone number under the single word, ‘Bookings’.

---