Forget about me

Chapter one

Alexandra

Shit. I am in such deep shit.

The silence of the bus ride gives my mind free rein to dive head first into my past and torture me with it. I swore I'd never go back knowing they'd be there if I did. Sometimes I used to wonder if they would ever stop and miss me. Wonder where I am and how I'm doing. If they still care. Then, that's probably wishful thinking. They wouldn't have betrayed me if they actually ever did care about me. It all can't have been a lie. We became friends before I found the secrets hidden in the diary I was left with when I was dumped on the orphanage's front steps. It had my father's name in the margins or I assumed it was my fathers. Marcus Johnson.

So, that's the last name I was given. Not that it means anything to me. It's just a name that belonged to someone who didn't want me. Therefore, the abandonment issues. Told you. Those issues just got worse after the only friends I've ever had abandoned me too. I still remember the day Mr. Rux came to the orphanage with the people who'd adopted me. You'd think I would've been happy to finally have a family but you see I already had one or so I thought. We were so close to finding the treasure and then daddy Rux shows up with a middle-aged woman saying she's my new mommy. I asked where the boys were, if they knew about this when Mr. Rux said they'd been the ones who asked him to find me a home far away from there. He asked for the diary and that's when I knew. They sent me away to find the treasure on their own. To make their little gang proud, prove themselves to daddy Rux and be initiated in the gang they always told me they never wanted to be a part of.

It doesn't matter now anyway. I gave Mr. Rux the notebook I'd written down some school crap in, quickly scribbling some ideas of where the treasure might be, as if I'd tried to break the code, before handing it over. Leading them to the wrong place hoping they'd give up after that assuming I'd been wrong. Turns out most of our friendship was a lie. But at least, for a little while, it was a beautiful one.

That was little over ten years ago. They probably wouldn't even recognise me now nor me them. I hope. Still, I wonder what to do about my hair. The chocolate brown colour needs to be renewed my natural colour peeking out at the roots. But if I keep it dark Sebastian could pick me out in a crowd. The smart thing would be to change it. To something that doesn't stand out too much of course. If I go natural, I'll be more recognisable to my past. I could always go red. Though I doubt it would look good on me. Especially not in a place where it's summer almost year-round. My pale skin has never taken to the constant sunlight. If I'm not careful or covered in sun lotion I'll turn red withing five minutes. So, if I become a red head, I risk my skin and hair matching. I scratch red from the list. We have a lighter shade of brown, my natural ashy blonde or a cold nearly white or silver blonde. First of all, I need to find a place to sleep, which should be easy enough I've slept under a dark blue star filled roof more than once, a job to get some money and then I can head to the salon to fix my hair.

———

My heart hammers in my chest as I get on the next bus. Two more hours and then I'll be back home.

Home.

I shouldn't think of it like that anymore but no other place has ever felt so much like it. They say home is where your heart is and I left mine in Kings cove ten years ago. Returning to it is terrifying.

We pass the border and enter the outskirts of town. We drive past the rich summer houses. Even though it isn't summer the houses aren't left empty. Other people live in them and take care of the gardens while the owners are wherever they spend the rest of the year. The security on these places is ridiculous. But I suppose they are aware of the gang running this town and won't take any chances.

My thoughts stray to the run-down house at the beach. It sits against the cliffside and the slab of curved beach in front is private. I used to dream of buying it. Renovating the place, making it beautiful again. Paint it white all around. The living room would take up most of the lower level with floor to ceiling windows that open onto the deck where we'd have a pool and grill. The deck would have steps that lead down to the patch of grass that separate the sand from the house. A picket fence with a little gate would be at the grass's edge marking our property.