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 Two - present
"Dear big brother, these are all the words I wish I could say to you. I wish you never left. I wish you never made me have to write this letter, so that you would listen to my side of the story. Our dad is a bad man, and you still let me stay, even when you had the chance to turn around, and take me with you"
Unlocking the front door, I was surprised to find that it was actually open. It wasn't locked, which meant that someone was inside the house. I didn't have my hat, as I had given it to G on the boat, before we had parted ways to spend the night at our respective homes. I had told her that I would be fine, and if anything happened, I would be at hers in a flash.
But now, I wanted to back out. I wanted to back out, but I had to start packing my life into a bag, and I was sure my father was gone on one of his summer long fishing trips. So, the only person that would be here, would be my brother. I had seen his truck parked haphazardly in the front yard, so I hoped it was just him.
I needed to know, if he would get me out of here. If he would take me back to Montana with him, and find a way where I can still live next door to Genevieve. I needed to know. Taking a deep breath in, I walked in, and braced myself for the fire that was about to come from within this household.
The one where I would be blamed, and feel like the asse hole for bringing a topic like moving in with my brother, instead of staying here, and seeing the next year of schooling out. "Hey, Jack, is that you bud?" my heart ached at the simplicity of my brother knowing it was me, as I walked through the door. We had bonded over him not being here to protect me from our father, and how it had been the same for him, but nothing was as bad as what I had suffered.
He had admitted that much. "Hey Gray" I muttered, shutting the door, and kicking off my boots. I walked into the kitchen, already smelling the great dinner that Grayson had cooked up. He had started doing that more often for me, and I felt awful for all the times I had avoided him. I had stayed away from here too long, just because he was here.
Unlike Gen, I never gave Grayson a chance. The second he walked through the door, I was out of it, not once looking back. I felt bad, thinking about every time he had tried, and I wanted him to forgive me for it, and maybe this could be our future. I didn't say anything, as I walked to the kitchen bench, sitting down at one of the few seats we had left, from my father's rage.
I let the silence sit in the room, as Gray had his back to me, while he was cooking. He had apparently mastered that, once he had left the army, hence why his cooking was always good. He told me he loved it, and I knew why. I knew why he served our country. I knew it all, and yet I still turned my back on him, because he had done it to me; to little old me.
And I wasn't prepared for him to do it to me again. I wasn't sure how I would cope, when the time came that he had to walk out that door again, and never come back. I wasn't sure if I could deal with another 12 years, if I would still be standing here, to tell the story. I wanted out, and I needed my brother to take me, because I knew Gen wouldn't want to stay here, in that house.
