The Emptiness She Holds

Her

Chapter 7: Her

By the time I finished jogging, I was gasping for air. Not used to running—well, duh—I'd been locked up for three years. The only exercise in juvie was pull-ups on my bunk bed ladder, push-ups in the courtyard, and the weekly brawls.

I was tired and sweaty. Definitely time to head home.

But first... a quick stop at McDonald's, babyyyy.

King of fast food. And if you say otherwise? Cue massive eye roll.

Yeah, I just worked out this pretty little body, but mama's hungry.

I grabbed my hair and redid my ponytail—it'd loosened from all that zooming through the forest earlier.

I jumped on my bike, speeding out, hunting for the closest Mickey D's.

"Thunder" by Imagine Dragons blasted in my helmet speakers, and I sang along loud enough to earn some weird looks from drivers around me.

Oh well. Their boring-ass lives can stay boring while mine's just peachy.

Incoming call.
Incoming call.

My helmet beeped.

Who dares interrupt my jam—

Mom is calling.

Oh, shizzzz.

"Answer."

Her screeching voice cut in.

"Blaire! Where the hell are you!?"

"Um... on Earth," I said bluntly.

"Now's not the time for jokes. You said you'd be back an hour ago," she said firmly.

"Well, we both know I don't mean everything I say," I replied coldly, annoyed she was changing since marrying Mr. Asshat.

Silence on the other end.

I sighed. "I'll be back soon," then hung up.

Finally caught sight of McDonald's.

Rolled through the drive-thru, ordered a meal and a mango smoothie.

Then back home.

"You saw me this morning, children," I said sarcastically as the gate guard stopped me to question.

I shot him a glare and he backed off, visibly shaken.

Rolled my eyes as he opened the gate.

Drove up the driveway, parked, and hopped off—McDonald's in hand.

I stepped inside and caught my brothers coming down the stairs, all dressed up.

Ignored them, headed straight to the kitchen.

"Where the hell have you been?" Elias, the eldest, barked.

Ignored him and took a sip from my cup.

Silence, thick with tension.

Suddenly, hands grabbed my neck and slammed me against the fridge, making me drop my McDonald's.

My head hit the fridge hard, and dizziness hit fast.

"Answer when I'm talking to you!" Elias yelled.

This bitch was asking for a fight.

I snapped—knee up into his groin, elbow into his gut.

He doubled over, gasping for air.

I grabbed his hair, smashed his head against pots hanging above the sink.

"Don't tell me what to fucking do," I mocked before letting go.

His brothers just stood there, shocked.

I tossed the cup in the sink, walked upstairs to my room, then straight to the bathroom.

Looked in the mirror—blood trailing down the side of my head.

Those fuckers.

Took off my jewelry, jumped in the shower, cold water washing over my head, careful not to hurt the wound.

Winced when water hit it, parted my hair, letting the water cleanse away the blood.

Once clean, I wrapped my wet hair in a towel, grabbed cotton and bandaged the cut.

Blow-dried my hair, then slipped into a casual outfit—oversized shirt, black cargo pants, and socks.

Daylight still filtering in, so I grabbed my canvases and paintbrushes.

Wondered where my step-siblings were headed dressed so fancy.

Shrugged it off.

Set up my canvas on the porch, pulled out my palette.

My mind drifted to the woman who haunts my dreams.

Freaky—she looks just like me.

Long blonde hair with highlights, those green eyes that make me want to dance in the forest.

She gives me warmth.

Rhys's been investigating what happened years ago. I know my dad wasn't the only one involved in the beatings. Sometimes, a woman with brown eyes and chestnut hair appears in my memories, carving a knife down my thigh. Then this mysterious woman shows up to defend me.

Since the car accident at ten, I've lost some memories—the doctors say it's my brain protecting me from trauma.

My thoughts return to that woman.

Always in the same place: a river, sitting on a rock with her feet dipped in the water, head tilted up, smiling.

I remember her freckles on her nose, dimples showing as she smiles, and especially the angel wings tattoo on her neck—the same as mine.

I painted for hours until my wrist ached.

Looking up, I realized the sun had set.

Sighing, I covered the painting with a tarp and carried it upstairs.

Placed it on the balcony where rain wouldn't touch it.

Went inside, washed my hands and the few paint splatters on me.

Still wondering...

Who is she?

<~>

*Authors note*
Oooo Mystery after mystery
Just wait it gets better! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I change my mind alot so things might not make sense and when I finish the book you'll probably have to re-read it to see some minor changes. Enjoy 💗