[Book I of the Heart Series]
❝I'm sorry Ryan. But I will never love the face of my parents killer.❞
❝You can't, or you won't?❞
***
Queen Bee Maybelle Summers lived in a perfect little bubble.
Well, she did until the day her sizzling ho...
Tears streamed down her face. But that was nothing new.
She reached the bridge. The bridge that had a ten-foot drop into endless water. Ice now. Of someone jumped? Splat. Blood everywhere.
She wasn't going to jump. Of course not. But. But how was she supposed to survive this?
The painful dreams, the heart-wrenching betrayal, the stained deaths?
Why wouldn't all of this end? Why couldn't she end?
But no. She couldn't. Of course, she couldn't.
She had to fight it. Fight everything. Hold it all back. Away. Away from Jason. She had to save Jason. She just had to. There was no question.
She would stay alive. Just for him.
She placed her hand on the ledge of the bridge. She placed her hand on her mouth, trying to cease the tears.
It wasn't working.
She hiccupped; her breath coming out in heaves. "Please," she whispered. "Please, do something," she continued. "I want it to stop." She sank to the floor, her knees shaking. She pulled herself into a ball and leaned her back against the ledge of the bridge.
She would laugh if the tears wouldn't stop. Her she was. Spoilt rich girl, sitting in the middle of a bridge in some random town in Canada while her brother lay in a hospital bed, relying on the charity of others to live. And his own sister was so stupid she couldn't even do anything to help him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Do you want to know why she'd been running?
Stupid little fool.
She'd been passing the boutiques of Merriborne. Merriborne. Such a stupid name for a town. It's not like everything was merry. Not in her life at least.
Anyway, she'd passed by a woman's dress boutique. And she'd remembered her mother. And remembered walking into a store just like that with her, trying on beautiful taffeta silk, gorgeous georgette blouses, and silky soft frocks. And remembered the money. All the money she'd had to give up because she had to pay for her brother's medical expenses. All that money that she used to spend on extremely expensive clothes.
Now she had to sell stupid tickets to earn less than even a quarter of what she used to spend.
Bloody idiot.
And just the thought of that had set her off. That loss. The loss of everything. Her mother, her father, her money.
And the fact that money had even entered her head made her burn red in shame.
Stupid girl.
She heard Uncle Vick's voice in her head. Resounding. Loud. Punishing.
She'd been so tired after her first few days working at the circus ticket booth. Smiling, smiling, smiling. She felt like her face was about to break.
Crack from all the physical pain it was going through just to wear that stupid smile on her face.
At the end, she'd snapped. She yelled at a couple for being in love, scolded a little boy who was throwing a tantrum and an elderly man for being to slow to count the change she'd proved was correct.
Her math skills weren't that bad.
Thorne was furious. She always referred to him as Thorne when she was angry at him.
He'd given her a furious violet-eyed glare. Then he'd told her to stop being a spoilt brat. After calming down a little he'd said, "You need to start coping Maybelle. At least, now you'll know what everyone else feels like, trying to actually earn their living,"
She'd run after that.
Run all the way and right into that boulevard of boutique stores.
And then to where she was now.
The mud-colored bricks and the old, knackered tennis shoes before her began to blur; like her old car's windshield when it rained. She'd had to sell that for more money.
They'd rented a one-bedroom apartment. It was big; as far as small apartments went. The landlord was a bit demanding, but she would manage him. She had to.
So far, she'd sold almost everything they'd had for Jason's operation. Apparently, taking a bullet out of a person's body took a lot of money. She didn't believe them-but what could she do?
It wasn't as if she could talk to the police again. They'd already done so much for the murder itself. And she couldn't really let them know they weren't living with their actual guardians.
The rage? The rage was at bay.
She couldn't bring it out now. If she did, she would kill someone.
And that wouldn't be good for Jason.
She had to think about Jason.
Always.
Him first.
A far cry from what she was used to. No one would ever take care of her again. And she needed-no wanted that lesson. She had to learn to stop being a spoilt brat.
Like Thorne said.
Oh, why was it so hard to change?
The sudden crunch of snow made her raise her head. She used her dirty sleeved sweater to wipe her nose.
An angel gazed down at her.
If angels could take the form of old women.
"Are you alright, dear?" came a voice.
*** Next Update: 4th April 2019
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