Winter Love (Book Two)

8 | Fight/War

JESSE'S POV

The past five years of my life, trying to learn how to not wake up with a startle in the middle of the night, afraid I'd hear my mother's soft whimpers as she tends to the wounds that man would put on her body - had gone to waste. The semblance of peace I had from turning these trauma inducing walls into a home, had been flushed down the drain without regard. My efforts, totally unappreciated.

I stare intently at the frozen lake in front of me, truly captivated by its serenity, but not even its quietness could calm the relentless thoughts that circled my mind at the pace of a hamster on steroids. It's been three days since I showed up at Sami's house. Three whole days! But it's been even longer since I last talked to him. He hasn't answered any of my calls, or responded to any of my text messages - I guess he's really sick.

I take my phone out of my jacket, checking if I'd have any luck in receiving a response from Colby - to no avail, the only recent message being from a guy I once considered a friend; but time had rudely exposed that our friendship was running on borrowed time. Our values didn't align, and so did our views. It's probably the exact same reason why Colby and I are the only ones in college, whereas majority of the squad is still in high school. But things weren't always as gloomy. There were days I was sure this guy was one of my closest friends: Jack. His brother, I couldn't stand, but Jack was nice...and months after complete silence, he'd reached out, a simple text message that peaked my interest: 'I have something of yours, I think u'd want to have it back'.

The last time I saw Jack was back at that party where I met Sami, and I'm pretty certain I didn't leave anything that belongs to me back there. What could he possibly be talking about...?

The light vibration of my phone snaps me out of my trance, the word: MOM flashing boldly across the screen with the incoming call. A little voice in the back of my head suggests I just let it ring till it stops, but the better part of me forces me to swipe my finger across the screen, silently placing the device by my ear:

"Jesse? Are you there?"

"Yeah" I answer simply with a sigh.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'd like to talk to you..." she breathes, "...face to face. So I'm gonna need you to be here for dinner."

The view before me tempts me to just waste the remainder of my night away, staring aimlessly at the bed of snow that litters the wide opening, giving an ethereal feel to the entire space. But the chilly air that accompanies the gorgeous view is so harsh that it penetrates the heavy layers of clothing, still giving me cold chills, forcing me to blurt out:

"I'll be there" in finality, before hanging up, making my way into the car, and driving back home.

*****

I had jumped head first into the meat grinder.

At this rate, angry doesn't even scratch the surface at describing what I feel right now. Sprawled out on the couch, comfortably, his feet perched like a king, as his servants ran around fluffing his pillows and offering him snacks, is the man I'd hoped to never see again in my life. My mother hurries past the hall where I remain frozen, a bowl of piping hot mashed potatoes clasped in her hands: "Jes, darling" she starts, "say hello to your dad".

As soon those words slip past her mouth, a cloud of pure fury looms over me, tempting me to scream profanities at the man that has now risen from his sleeping position, sitting and smirking at me, silently informing me that in his sick and twisted head: I had certainly won the fight, but I lost the war. Assuring me, in all his evil might, that he knows I that I was responsible for putting him in the camp, and this - to him, was far from over.