Page 3 of Revelation (Love Isn't What It Seems 3)

How many times did I wish to be treated as a true Cambridge, be recognized as my father’s daughter, instead of Cambridge’s bastard daughter? Now I would prefer to lose any connection to the Cambridge family. Except I owed them everything.

Four long months have passed since the accident. I wished we could turn back time. Then Brian and I would have never gone to that party. I wished we could undo it all, and I’d go back to before I killed them both.

My mother wasn’t a great mother, but she was better than this. I would have still had Brian with me. He loved me. He was the only person that loved me and now he was gone. Forever. The memories of that night were a fuzzy blur in my mind, hard to connect.

My physical therapist and my shrink were the only two people that seemed to care what happened to me these days. One insisted I could overcome the pain in my body, become strong again, and get on my own two feet. And the other one kept insisting I should grieve; I should get my feelings out.

How do you get your feelings out if you are numb?

“Layla?” Dr. Johnson called out.

“Yes?”

“Are you sleeping?”

I forgot he asked a question. “Yes, I’m sleeping fine.”

It was a lie.

The tension I felt all day long only carried into my dreams. I glanced down at my legs, one revealing ugly purplish bruises after my latest surgery while my other was in a cast. The doctor said I was lucky to be alive. Somehow, I didn’t feel lucky.

The hateful word bashing I received from my grandfather on a daily basis and complaints from my grandmother for the inconvenience at having me around every day made me feel very unlucky. In fact, it made my depression even worse. I felt unwanted, hated even.

And there wasn’t a single person in the entire household that wanted me around, including their staff. It was extra work for them, something that they didn’t want nor need.

I wanted to run away, but my legs couldn’t even support me. I wanted to cry, but tears refused to come. I wanted to forget Brian’s face, cold, bloody, and lifeless next to mine when I woke up. But that image, my mind refused to forget.

And my mother, I never saw her. Her body burned to ashes, the only remains of her a promise ring my father had given her seventeen years ago. The promise he had broken, but she clung to it like a lifeline.

Chapter One

Layla

Igripped the note in the palm of my hand.

One Hundred Thousand.

Cash.

School Locker.

Key Enclosed.

Every year, during the last week of summer the note came. Every fucking year it was the same thing. My blackmailer came to collect. The payment for my sins. My atonement.

It took years to remember bits and pieces of the crash. My therapist said it was progress. I didn’t think so. Because I would rather forget those images. They flashed in my mind, clicking through like a digital camera. Over and over again.

The burning smell of gasoline. A piercing scream as the car rolled over, tumbling down the hill. Windows shattering. Blood all over Brian. His dead eyes staring back at me. Excruciating pain.

All the years of therapy, it didn’t do crap. I still couldn’t remember the events of that night clearly. They all fumbled together. I didn’t remember driving, or how we ended up going over the cliff. I remembered the terror and screaming though.

My grandfather said I drove. He said I used drugs and caused their death. My mother and Ben were dead because of me. It was supposed to be the best night of my life and turned into a nightmare.

I inhaled deeply. And slowly exhaled.

Years of physical therapy only taught me how to slow down my heartbeat. Another deep breath. And exhale.

Glancing at the note, I couldn’t even gather the courage to be pissed off for being extorted. I deserved to pay for my mistake. It cost two human lives.

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