Page 107 of Beautifully Shattered
The shattered window has been replaced, the outside shutter rolled all the way up, making the room look like a pretty teenage girl’s space.
All I see is ugliness.
I rummage through my drawers, finding nothing of importance since Mum took everything from me.
I shove some clothes into a bag, happy I’ll finally have something of my own instead of wearing other people’s clothes, and then I hurry to the bathroom to get my personal items from there.
JD and Jols take my bags out to the car, leaving me and Ringo to continue our search of the house.
Maggie’s room is pristine. Her bed is made, and I just know she would’ve helped Mum prepare to flee, leaving Tahli out of the loop.
A quick search of her room gives me nothing other than her notebook which has a few passages from the Script of Symme scribbled inside.
In my parents’ room, their scent hits me the moment I step in, and my stomach lurches. What’s even more surprising is how messy it is.
The bed is unmade, my dad’s clothes scattered everywhere, which is unusual, and there are dirty plates piled up on his bedside table.
“That’s different,” I mutter, pointing to the dishes, and Ringo’s brows shoot up.
“Not like your olds to leave dirty dishes around?”
I shake my head. “They never ate in here. Maybe that changed after I was taken from them.”
Ringo frowns. “Maybe.”
JD and Jols come back in, and Ringo chats to them while I dig through my mother’s drawers, finding my old phone and charger, which I pocket, and my licence and bank cards.
She’s probably drained what little money I had, but having access to the things that were mine is important to me, so I reclaim them, and keep searching.
I’m not sure what I’m hoping to find. Maybe any clues about where they could be, though I know it’s a long shot.
I’m about to give up when I decide to look under the mattress and find what looks like an old scrapbook.
Frowning, I tug it out and drop it on the bed, gaining everyone’s attention.
“What do you have there?” Ringo asks, and I can see him moving closer in my peripheral, so I open the cover to see my mother’s name scrawled out in a purple marker.
Priscilla Louise Banes
My breath stutters as I re-read it.
Priscilla Louise Banes
Surely I’m misreading that. Her maiden name was Bates. I’m sure of it.
“Angel?” Ringo asks, concern lacing his tone, and I angle the book towards him and point to the name.
“Read this out to me.”
His whiskey eyes flick to mine in confusion, his brows knitting together, but he nods, glancing down at the page.
“It says, Priscilla Louise Ba…” His eyes snap up to mine.
“Tell me I’m misreading it.” I rush out. “It should say Priscilla LouiseBates. That’s what she’s always told me her maiden name was.” I suck in a shuddering breath. “It says Bates… right?”
His eyes flick back down to the page, and he slowly shakes his head.
“Angel… it says Priscilla LouiseBanes.”
