Page 53 of Love Sick

Using my good leg, I kick it back to Bobby, who runs after it with speed as my aim is off. Sports was never my thing, but Bobby doesn’t seem to mind. We continue this back-and-forth game for a while and it’s nice to see Bobby smile.

He begins to run backward, indicating that he wants me to go long.

“All right. Are you ready?” I tease, pretending I need a run-up.

He giggles and I realize it’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh. Which is the reason I kick with a little too much enthusiasm and boot the ball into one of the rooms.

He runs after it, but I quickly hobble after him because I don’t know if the room is safe.

“Bobby!” I exclaim, trying my best to get there in record time as visions of him dangling from a hole in the floor are too vivid.

Thankfully the room appears to be hole-free, but it’s just as derelict as the rest of the house. The ball is wedged under a fallen roof beam and Bobby is on his hands and knees, trying to yank it out.

“I got it.”

I limp over and gently tap Bobby’s shoulder, gesturing he’s to stand. I don’t want him that close to the filth on the floor. I tilt my head and see the ball is wedged quite far in. I use one crutch to try to knock it out, but it’s fruitless.

I peer around the back of the beam and see that I can try and push it out that way. I move to the side and am about to use my crutch as a hockey stick, but I see something hidden away in a loose skirting board. I don’t know why it catches my eye, but when my heart begins that familiar raced tempo, I know it can’t be good.

I forget my injury and drop to half a squat, keeping my injured leg extended out as I reach for what’s hidden away. What I find confuses and shocks me at the same time.

In my hand, I hold a thick stack of driver’s licenses. All different people, from different states, different ages, with different names. I go through them all, trying to make sense of what this means as this is all too serial killer-ish for my liking.

However, when I see a familiar face, another thought hits me.

This place is a pit of squalor, only fit for those who need somewhere to hide, as they are too ashamed for the world to see them at their weakest.

The license I hold is that of Misha’s.

So the question is, why is it here?

Kyle is passed out on the couch, exhausted from this entire ordeal, no doubt.

Joy hid so many secrets, ones which I don’t think she ever told me because I feel surprised, like the news that Dominic shared was the first time I ever heard it. I wonder why Joy wouldn’t tell me. If we were best friends, I would think that’s something she’d tell me.

And that has me wondering just who Kyle’s biological father is.

I flick the corner of the piece of paper Trista gave me, deep in thought. I don’t know why this address of where Misha got his drugs from is so important, but I can’t shake the feeling that it conceals a lot more secrets.

Kyle’s laptop is open, so I reach for it off the coffee table and type the address into the search bar. I have no expectations, but when I see a run-down mansion, I am a little shocked. It’s so…clichéd.

“Pennington Villa,” I whisper, not wanting to wake Kyle.

I read about its misfortunate history, wondering if this place was cursed from the moment the foundations were laid. Nothing but horror seemed to follow.

I think of Misha going here late at night, desperate for his next hit. The things he must have done to ensure his habit was fed.

Tears well because my memories are coming back slowly. They may not be lucid, but I remember them. Each day, I remember who I am and the love I felt for my son.

I have to go there.

I don’t know why. Morbid curiosity, perhaps?

I just need to see it to believe, I guess.

Quietly closing the laptop, I reach for Kyle’s car keys and the old cell he gave me from the coffee table and hold my breath the entire way to his car.

Once inside, I exhale and brush my freshly dyed blonde hair from my face. I found the box of dye under the sink and decided to color my hair to look semi human.

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