Page 22 of Papers Don't Lie

“I can’t have boys, do you understand that?” she asked after she told me to come closer, sweat dripping on her forehead as she shook me from my shoulders.

I nodded, my eyes glued on the bloodied towels under her, though it didn’t make sense to me.

Since then, she made me assist every one of my brothers being aborted because she needed help, and I was the only one who could give it to her since my sisters were clueless about what was happening. Mom had three more abortions before she could give birth to the last girl in the Hamilton family and because she had blonde hair—not brown or black hair like the six of us had—they considered her a miracle, and two days later she was out of the country.

She explained to me that day that “we were her key to a much better life,” which became a reality a few years later when they were getting richer and richer because they were selling us. Mom doesn’t like to call it that, though. She maintains that she’s offering us the life she couldn’t have.

So Carter’s words couldn’t be more real.

My jaw twitches as tears blur my vision. “You’re hurting me,” I whisper, but I don’t tell him that it's his words I’m talking about. “That’s how you show me that you love me?”

At first, he doesn’t realize it and watches me with squinted eyes, but when I move my shoulder, trying to escape his hold, something snaps in him. He takes a step back, his expression softening from the pure rage earlier. Carter looks at me like I’m made of glass now, a tear dropping on his cheek. When he stretches his hand to touch the spot where he most likely left bruises, I do what my guts are telling me to do: run.

But before that, I hit him in the balls as hard as I can.

ELEVEN

ESMERAY

When I get in front of the modest house that served as a home for the past four weeks, the tears still run shamelessly down my cheeks. I’m surprised they don’t deepen into scars from how hard they burn, almost as if my eyes aren’t releasing tears, they are releasing acid.

The meeting with Carter didn’t fuck me up that much, even though it wasn’t a pleasant moment either. He doesn’t mean anything to me, and I don’t think I mean more than an obsession to him either, but the situation with my sister is different. Raven wasn’t only a relative of mine. She was my best friend. She was the one I knew I could always count on.

How could she betray me?

When she was crying about not wanting to marry Jamie four years ago, I was the one taking her side and having a huge fight with our parents. And it’s not that I regret it—I’d do it again any time of the day and even more if I had the power to set any of my sisters free—but how could she do that to me and put my happiness at bay when all I did while I was home was make sure of their well-being?

Without a doubt, my parents or Carter made her do it, but she could’ve fought it. I believe we can always make our choices, no matter the consequences, and she made hers.

I throw my hand over the gate, looking for the string keeping it closed as I try to get a hold of myself.

“Esmeray?”

A knot immediately finds its way to my throat at the sound of the familiar voice, keeping the tears that until now ran with no shame on my cheeks. I take a deep breath before turning around, but when I see the worry on his face, I break.

“Please, get in the car,” Kendrick pleads, and as much as I want to ask him what he’s doing here or why he decided to show up just now, I don’t. I simply nod my head.

Because truly? I need a friend now.

Kendrick opens the car’s door for me, and I get inside, sniffing. I release a relieved breath, suddenly feeling safe. I shouldn’t feel that way, but through the last few weeks, Kendrick has been like a brother to me. Of course, I know he was paid to take care of me, but he was constant in my life when I had no one but myself. It could all be an act, but I don’t care right now.

“Are you okay?” a deep, grave voice asks, and I jump in my seat, my palm instantly lying on my chest. I look to my left, finding Mr. Graves sitting there.

Gosh.

His hand settles on my arm, and I flinch at the contact, the memories of Carter’s touch on my skin still fresh in my mind. “What happened?” he asks when Kendrick enters the car and occupies his seat.

My mouth parts open. “It’s… nothing.”

I can’t see Mr. Graves very well, but I can feel him watching me as Kendrick drives away until he switches on the lights in the back, his eyes pinning the spot on my skin. My gaze lowers, and when I see the dark bruise all around my arm, my insides twist.

What would’ve happened if I married that man? Would I have spent the rest of my life as his victim?

“Did he do this to you?” The venom in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

The way he asks the question makes me think he already knows the answer but wants to make sure. I wonder if that would be possible. Did he follow me when I thought he finally left me alone? Or is it just my mind playing tricks on me?

I shake my head to brush off the thoughts because there’s no way he’d know what happened a few moments ago when they just got here.

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