Page 63 of Can You Take It?

The name strikes a chord deep within me, sending a surge of memories rushing to the surface. It’s a place that holds secrets and scars, a place I had left behind to escape the horrors of my past. My heart begins to race as I realize that Luna’s revelation could unravel the carefully constructed walls I’ve built around my life, threatening to expose the dark truths that I’ve hidden for so long.

I turn to meet Luna’s eyes, doing my best to hide any hint of the turmoil inside me.

“So what does that have to do with me?”

Luna’s gaze remains fixed on me, and there’s an accusatory edge to her voice as she responds, “Well, you’re from Hollowbrook.”

My heart skips a beat, and I can feel the color drain from my face. She knows more than I thought, and I’m suddenly caught in a web of questions and fears.

“A lot of people are from Hollowbrook,” I counter.

Luna’s expression doesn’t waver as she continues. “My dad had regrets about one case. A case involving a seventeen-year-old girl who entered the HPD. She was scared, and my dad believed her grandfather instead of believing her.”

The room falls silent, and suddenly I can feel the weight of Luna’s words pressing down on me. It’s as if a dark cloud has descended, casting a shadow over everything I thought I had escaped. My past in Hollowbrook has caught up to me, and there’s no denying the painful memories it holds.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Izel, you can’t hide from the truth forever. My dad’s regrets about that case haunted him until the day he died. He always wondered if he could have done something different, somethingthat might have saved that runaway child from whatever hell she went through.”

“He never dug deeper to know I wasn’t a runaway child,” I murmur.

“Why did you give the FBI a bogus description?”

I hesitate for a moment, my back still turned to her.

“Why do you care?”

September 15, 2014, 12:28:49 AM.

I return to the abandoned building, and it’s just as cold and unforgiving as before. Shivers run down my spine as I huddle up, seeking whatever warmth I can find. At some point, exhaustion overtakes me, and I drift into a deep sleep, my mind seeking refuge from the painful memories that haunt me.

But then, something jolts me awake. A hand grabs my arm, and I’m yanked back to reality. My eyes snap open to find a lady officer standing over me. She’s smiling, but there’s something eerie about that smile. I know what’s coming next – she’s here to take me back to Montclair Manor, a place that’s scarier than any haunted house I’ve ever seen in the movies.

Panic courses through me, and I struggle to break free. My tears flow uncontrollably, and I can’t hold back the screams that escape my lips.

“No, please! Stop! Let me go!” I cry out in desperation.

I bite down on her hand, causing her to yell and loosen her hold, but she doesn’t let go.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re here to help you,” she assures me.

Two other officers appear, grabbing me and forcing me into a waiting jeep. “Please, let me go! Don’t take me there!” I scream.

The lady officer tries to soothe me, but there’s no calming the storm of emotions raging within me. I’m trapped, helpless, and being taken to a place I thought I’d escaped.

Tears stream down my face, and my sobs rack my body. I’ve cried so much that I feel drained, and with each step I’m forced to take, my legs wobble beneath me. At this point, I’d almost welcome death as a better alternative.

I tug at the officer’s hand. “Please,” I whimper, “don’t take me there. I can’t go back. I won’t survive.”

The lady officer looks down at me. “Isla, please calm down,” she says in a tone that’s supposed to be soothing.

“I told you already,” I scream, “my name is not Isla. My name is Izel. Please, you have to believe me!”

The lady officer’s indifference is maddening. She shoves me into the patrol car without a second thought. As I’m pushed into the backseat, I catch a glimpse of the head officer who’s in charge, sitting in the passenger’s seat. Desperation fills me, and I plead with him. “Sir, please, don’t take me back. I’m not lying. Please believe me.”

But his response is to ask me to calm down, and I realize that no one is willing to listen, to understand the terror that grips my heart.

The car comes to a screeching halt in front of Montclair Manor, and I’m practically shaking with fear. I scream and shout, trying to make them understand, but my words are like whispers in the wind. The lady officer, despite my struggles, drags me out of the car.

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