Genevieve Anderson, the girl that had been left behind and forgotten.
In a town where everybody knows everybody, meaning that no one goes unnoticed. Nobody just grabs a bag and leaves in the middle of the night, without someone seeing something. No...
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Chapter Thirty One - present
"How could someone possibly do such a thing? How could they physically and mentally do such a thing to a person, and think that it was okay? That nothing would come from it. My entire childhood made complete sense, now that all the pieces were coming together"
It was true. The rumors were true. It had all been true. From the rumors swirling that my father had killed my brothers, to him killing my mother. Except, he hadn't killed anyone, or at least, to my knowledge, he hadn't killed them, until now. I had just found out, that the car accident that my mother had been apart of, the whole reason that my brothers used to be cautious about getting in strangers cars, or even our own, was because my father had orchestrated it all.
He had planned it down to the final minuet, even trying to garner some of my brothers, but they had all conveniently avoided it. For some reason, as much as I tried to will myself to be angry at the man standing in front of me, my brother, I just couldn't do it. I couldn't find it in me to be angry at him, for keeping such a secret. I didn't want to know what my father had done, while I was still in the same household as him.
Apparently, that was now all up for discussion. Due to my lack of working currently, the house was about to go under, unless one of my brothers bought it. But, they all had houses in the city. Or, so I believed that they did. That was where they lived, and I lived here, with this rickety bed, and this rotting house. I should have known, that this was all going to expire, sooner or later.
It was like sitting on a ticking time bomb, and trying to slow it down. If anything, it had sped up, allowing for everything to just crash and burn. "Gen, I didn't mean for you to find out this way. That wasn't how I wanted you to know. I just guess, we never spoke about it with you, because you were so little. I couldn't do that to my little girl"
Miles was stuck on the fact that he should have told me, and that I should have found out another way. Not the way of the officer just dropping the bomb, like I knew. Well, that was the reason as to why my father was going to jail. Apparently, he had handed himself in, for the murder of my mother. For knowing what had happened. He hadn't ratted my brothers out for knowing, which was the only good thing about it. They weren't going to be seen as accomplices, or whatever they called it out here.
The thing that caught my eye, was the fact that my brother called me his little girl. His. Little. Girl. Not Ryder's, not Parker's, not Logan's. Definietly not Bailey or Silas' or even Rocky's. Miles' little girl, and his one and only. I hadn't taken my eyes off the ground, as my hands fiddled with one another, as Miles had taken me into my room, away from the prying eyes.
I had heard the dishes clattering, as everyone cleaned up, before going their own way. Jack had called out, asking if we needed anything, and that he would be heading to his house to grab some things, before joining the boys out the front. I hadn't even responded. The bomb of what I had just been told, was too much.
