Heartstrings

Chapter 26: Traitor

Trigger warning: you guessed it- violent scenes ahead to include physical abuse and drug abuse. References of suicide. Read at your own risk.

Jake's Perspective

Of fucking course the one day my dad decided to sober up and come talk to me had to be the day Emma was on the verge of a complete breakdown. I looked back wearily at the house as I opened the car door and got inside - she needed me right now. But she was strong, she'd be okay until I got back.

All the way home, my dad drove like a maniac - driving 40 miles over the speed limit and recklessly swerving between cars. Can you please do me just one single favor and not kill me? Please?

I quickly began to second guess his sobriety and I looked around the car for evidence. My eyes landed on an ornate box, small enough to keep in a pocket, but big enough to carry the fine, white powder inside. Cocaine - of course. I wondered how much he'd done... and how aggressive it would make him.

When we finally pulled into the gate, he typed in the code as he cursed under his breath-

- Fucking pain in my ass... goddamn code.

Once he'd entered the correct one, the gates creaked open and we sped down the winding driveway towards the house. I should've been nervous, but I wasn't. All I felt was the agonizing sensation of being separated from Emma.

I meditated on the thought of her - her laugh, like wind chimes; her grey eyes, fittingly wise like the goddess Athena's; and the curve of her body as she slept in my arms. Even from a distance, she centered me. I had something - someone - to get back to.

True to my suspicions, when we parked, my dad reached for the little box and did a bump of cocaine as I stepped out of the car. Real nice, dad.

- Upstairs. My office.

Normally, I would've had an attitude. I would've rolled my eyes, slammed the door, and said "go fuck yourself" under my breath. But the less disrespectful I was, the less I'd provoke him, and the less I provoked him, the quicker I'd get back to Emma.

I made my way up the stairs to his office on the east wing of the second floor. He followed me into the room and I took a seat on one of the stiff, leather chairs that faced his desk.

He shut the door and locked it. Shit.

Taking his seat behind the desk, he grabbed a stack of papers and sat strategically silent as minutes ticked by - a power play. Finally, he looked up sharply-

- You're turning eighteen soon.

As if I had forgotten.

- Yes. December 17th.

- Your mother's lawyer came today. It would seem you're coming into a hefty inheritance on your birthday.

Silence. I'd never really considered my inheritance - I'd assumed she'd left everything to my dad.

- You're wondering how much.

I wasn't. I didn't want to know, but before I could shake my head, he'd already begun to speak-

- She left almost everything to you, you know? When she left I got the house, but you got everything else.

- When she "left"?

Blood drained from his face but he didn't move a muscle.

- Yes... when she left... this world.

He was stumbling, but why? He never hesitated. Was he in denial? Was he still hurting from her death? It was unlike him. He soon recovered, though-

- When she died, apparently she left you the stocks in her investment portfolio as well as what she inherited from her parents when they died. In total, it all amounts to nearly twenty million dollars.