Page 158 of Can You Take It?

We pick up the pace. My legs burn, and my heart pounds, but I push through the pain. Martin’s flashlight flickers, and for a moment, we’re plunged into darkness. My stomach drops, but he smacks it, and the light returns, albeit dimmer.

“Not much further,” he says. “Just keep going.”

Finally, we reach a rusted metal ladder bolted to the wall. Martin gestures for me to go first. I hesitate, looking up into the darkness, but then start climbing, my hands slipping on the damp rungs.

At the top, I push against a heavy hatch. It doesn’t budge at first, but with a grunt of effort, it finally gives way, opening into a dense thicket of underbrush. I climb out. Martin is right behind me, and we quickly pull the hatch shut.

“Through here,” Martin says, leading the way through the forest. We move quickly but quietly, the sounds of the forest masking our footsteps. The rumbling sound from the tunnel is gone, but I know it’s only a matter of time before they find the hatch.

We break through the tree line, and I see a dirt road ahead. Parked just off the road is a beat-up old truck, its engine running.

“Get in,” Martin orders, and I don’t hesitate.

As soon as we’re inside, Martin floors it, the tires kicking up dirt and gravel as we speed away. I glance back to see the detention center fading into the distance. I’m praying to God I never feel this good about sending a life to hell again. The rush of adrenaline is intoxicating, and it feels good—so fucking good. But with that, my heart sinks. I’ve just lost any possibility I had with Richard. He’d asked me to trust him, and I do, but I don’t trust the system. At least I have a few moments to cherish while doing my sentence in prison.

Richard… I can only hope he’ll move on. Sure, he’ll hate me, but everything I touch ends up scarred. Everything I hold, I leavemy claw marks on, bleeding out the love until it’s all pain. He’ll hate me now, but at least he’ll be free from my curse.

Martin veers off the main road, heading towards my apartment like we’d planned. I shake my head and look over at him. “No, take me to Hollowbrook.”

He glances at me, confusion etched on his face. “Hollowbrook? Why?”

“I need to see my mom.”

Martin doesn’t question me further. He just nods and turns the truck around, heading towards Hollowbrook. The drive is silent mostly, and as we pull up to Montclair manor, I glance around nervously. Thankfully, there are no cops in sight. I guess they’ve found everything they were looking for already. Martin parks the car, and I step out. I walk up to the front door and knock.

My grandma opens the door, her eyes widening in surprise. Without a word, she pulls me into a tight hug, and bursts into tears.

“Izel,” she whispers. “Izel, my dear, what has happened?”

She’s never called me Izel before. It’s always been Isla. Hearing her say my real name breaks something inside me, and I sob, clinging to her. She kisses my face frantically, her hands shaking as she strokes my hair.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry for what that monster did. I never wanted this for you.”

“I know, Grandma,” I manage to choke out between sobs. “I know.”

Her affection is overwhelming, a stark contrast to the hell I’ve been through. She keeps apologizing, and her words blend into a soothing murmur as she tries to comfort me. Finally, I pull back slightly and ask, “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s here,” my grandma says, stepping aside.

My mom appears from behind her. “Izzie.”

How does one talk to their mother after they’ve just committed a crime, a murder of all things? I guess I’m about to find out.

Chapter 39

RICHARD

The pounding on the door might as well be inside my skull. I groan, rolling off the couch and stumbling towards the noise. My head is throbbing, and it feels like someone’s hammering nails into my brain.

I open the door, blinking against the harsh morning light. Cop cars are scattered across my yard, and I see Wilson stepping forward.

“Agent Reynolds,” he says, his voice low and serious. “We need to talk.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, already fearing the worst.

He doesn’t answer immediately, just gestures for me to follow him outside. We walk over to one of the cop cars, and I spot other officers milling around.

“We found your service gun at the detention center,” Wilson starts. “In the interrogation room where Victor’s body was discovered. You’ll be suspended pending investigation. IA will handle your case. You’ll have to surrender your badge and gun,make a public statement, and cooperate fully. If you’re innocent, this will clear up. If not...”

---