Page 35 of Jagged Line Paradise

And she wanted nothing to do with me every single time. I’ve only ever tried to help her, tried to get her connected with the best resourcesVindicationhas to offer. I get that she’s still holding a grudge and being pissy about the fact that I left her on her own in Sunrise Valley after what had happened with my dad. But I had kind of hoped by now she’d have grown up a bit and gotten the fuck over it.

She’s made it clear that she hates me.

She really fucking hates me.

I’ve accepted it.

At least, I thought I had.

Then,Wicked Waysapproached me, wanting to profile me and my father’s victims for a documentary. I had to ensure that the documentary wouldn’t be a subtle glorification of my father and the five women he brutally murdered. It’s my duty to ensure that their memories are preserved as precious lives who deserved better than what he forced upon them.

I wanted the whole thing to end on a positive note—with an exclusive interview with the sole survivor. I thought maybe she’d finally speak to the press after a decade, especially knowing I’m involved with the film. I wouldneverlet them spin the story against her, and she should fucking know that. But I guess I’m such a piece of shit in her eyes that she wouldn’t even do it for me.

She doesn’t give me the time of day. She won’t even give me a chance to explain how much I want to—need to—change the legacy of the Hernandez name. I’ve worked my ass off trying to right his wrongs, trying to give a voice to the voiceless. That’s what this documentary is supposed to be about.

How selfish can she be?

She’s fucking lucky to have survived, and though I can’t make decisions for her, I honestly feel like she has a duty to speak the fuck up about her experiences, to get some fucking help, to empower other survivors of violent crimes to get help, too.

But clearly, she doesn’t give a shit.

She wants to go on living her shitty little life in that shitty little town and avoid facing her problems like an adult. Maybe I don’t have a right to be angry at her for that, but I am.

I’m fucking pissed.

“You know, I think I know the perfect spot for me to share a bit of my story when we get out to Arizona next week,” I tell Brittany.

“Yeah?”

“There’s a bluff overlooking Paradise Park where we lived, the Sunrise Summit mountain peaks are in the distance. I used to watch a lot of sunsets out there. Might make a perfect opening shot for the film.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” she practically chirps, happy that I’m still okay with moving forward, even though they haven’t gotten Avalon’s interest. “Then I guess we’ll see you there next week.”

If Avalon wants to play the game this way, if she wants to be pissy and avoidant, then I’ll just have to bring the film crew to her doorstep—on my first trip home since I left a decade ago. Maybe a confrontation is just what she and I need. I’ll gladly bring her a come-to-Jesus moment because Lord knows I’ve had my fair fucking share.

I pocket my phone after the call ends.

“Tough call?” Julia asks from her kitchen, taking a sip of wine from an oversized glass.

I nod. “Yeah.”

She pauses, tilts her head to the side, cocks an eyebrow. “I could go for round two. Want me to put on the red wig?”

I look up at her, considering, and quickly accept the offer. “Fine. Get naked.”

Chapter 11

Avalon

“WELL, CRAP ONa Christmas cookie.”

I’ve painted and repainted this scene a thousand times and I’ve hated every version. This one has me frustrated enough to use harsh tones in defamation of a perfectly lovely holiday treat.

“What are you hollering about?” my mom hollers at me.

“Nothing, Mom,” I holler back. “Go back to bed.”

I sigh and decide that I need to take a break from forcing creativity when my head just isn’t in the game. It was a long night with my mom anyway. She was up sick a couple of times, and I’m exhausted in every sense of the word.

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