Dragged Back From Hell

Chapter Eight

Monica Bran above ^^^

Sorry this chapter is a few hours late! I had to stay back at work which meant I couldn't edit it when I wanted to. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

When Jackson and I got back from school, there was an unfamiliar black sedan parked outside the house. Glancing over at Jackson with furrowed eyebrows, I watched as he cautiously got out of the car and made his way to the front door.

After a moment, I did the same. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as we finally stood in front of the door. I normally wouldn't freak out like this over a random car, but it's the fact that Jackson was genuinely worried. I could tell. He was tense from the moment we saw the car and he was hesitating to unlock the front door.

"Jackson, what's wrong?" I hesitantly asked as I stood next to him on the front porch. "Do you know who's car that is?"

Jackson didn't respond. He merely swayed his head before finally unlocking the front door and opening it. As he walked inside, he made sure to leave the door open for me. Grateful, I promptly followed him through the door and into the living room. This is where I caught a glimpse of her.

The detective from the unforgettable night I was arrested. What was her name again? I mulled over internally as I took a seat near the window. When my parents and the experienced detective heard the springs in the lounging chair squeak, their heads snapped up to look at me.

I noticed Monica and Leon share a brief look before plastering on caring smiles as an attempt to console me. "I'm sure you remember Detective Lorla, from the night..." Monica began telling me before abruptly stopping as if trying to think of a different way to say 'the night you found out your whole life was a lie and the person you thought was your psychotic mother was in fact a psychotic criminal'. It isn't really catchy enough for a greeting card yet.

"The night I discovered out the truth about myself." I carefully finished for her, relieved to see the previous frantic look on her face soothing. Monica simply bobbed her head and leaned onto her husband. "Yes, I remember. Was there anything I could assist you with?" This time I was directing my attention to the detective as I asked.

Watching carefully as Detective Lorla skimmed over her notes, I began to absentmindedly gnaw on my thumbnail as I waited. Could she not have readied herself before I got here? The suspense is killing me right now. I internally groaned.

The petite detective made an loud 'uh-huh' sound as she pulled out a piece of paper from her collection of files. "Could you please confirm for me that this is Natasha Dyer? The woman who abducted you." She eventually asked as she lifted herself up slightly to slide what I now recognised was a photograph across the coffee table in my direction.

Gingerly lifting it up with the hand that wasn't currently attached to my mouth, I scrutinised what was on it. It was Natasha. She looked just as I remembered, only happier. An expression I was not overly familar with. I constantly thought that I must have been adopted because I looked nothing like her. I was tall, slightly tanned and had long tresses of brown hair whereas Natasha was nothing close to that. She was a stocky, plump woman with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes.

I mentioned this to her once as a joke when I was younger. I should have picked up on the sudden alarm in her eyes before she struck me and told me to never say such a thing. However, after that Natasha told me that the reason we didn't look alike was because she had an affair with a handsome Bulgarian man when overseas. Which I now know was utter bull.

Nodding my head, I kept my eyes trained on the photo. The photo of the woman I hated to love. Shaking my head slightly, I handed the photo back to the detective. "Yes, that is Natasha Dyer."