The pain through my shoulder blinded me as the bullet tore through bone, severing muscle from tendon and burning the flesh that covered it all. I let out a primordial yell, rolling to my side, clutching onto my arm that hung loosely on the side before struggling to my feet, limping away desperately.
"You missed." The one man muttered, pulling back the slide of his gun. The woman halted him as she walked closer to me. Blonde hair drifted out of her hood as she tucked it back in.
"She dodged." The woman spoke finally before driving her foot into my gut.
I woke up to a pang in my gut that had been more than just pain, but a feeling of unsettling guilt. The bare concrete floor had been piercingly cold, the mattress on the steel bed even harder than the floor. I stood up as the door on the far side of the room opened. Ian.
"You're lucky it's not a busy night," He spoke, slipping a key into the sturdy lock of the cell, twisting it before sliding the bolt sideways. The sound had been jarring and relieving all at once. I slipped out, cracking my neck. "I have a few questions to ask you."
"Doesn't everyone?" I responded as he led me to the integration room upstairs, pointing towards a steel chair behind the large steel table in the centre of the room. I walked around the room, dragging my finger across the mirror against the wall before sitting down. "Who's behind there?"
"He's out of town," Ian shook his head. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to make a rude remark. "An assistant of his posted your bail."
"Figured as much. I was basically raised by his assistants," I shrugged, sitting back in my seat. "So, what do you want to know? What happened to me? Why I was at the hospital? Maybe why I'm not in London?"
"Are you okay, Dawn?" He spoke gently, placing a cup of coffee in front of me. "I know it tastes like water but it was the best I could manage."
His question threw me off guard, sinking the feeling of guilt even deeper into the gut. I reached towards the cup of coffee, embracing its warmth in my fridget palms. I took a sip.
"Tastes like crap." I continued drinking. "I'm fine if you must know."
"That's good to hear," He responded, knowing the conversation had come to an end when my father's assistant stepped in – a woman slightly taller than me, dressed in a leather jacket and skinny jeans. Her dark hair was shaven off at the sides in a gents cut. Ian left the room, leaving the two of us alone with a single line of warning and I made a mental note to keep my trash talking at bay. "Try not to kick her, kid. She's a former military."
"I'm Cassidy-"
"He's sticking it to you, isn't he?" Well, I never had the best memory. "How's it like going from playing GI Jane to babysitting some rich guy and his delinquent kid?"
"Not all that much different. I get frustrated, I shoot." She bit back, forcing me to smile. I liked this one.
"So, we just going to stand here all day or you going to tell me to follow you?" I groaned and followed her as she walked out, past Ian who nodded at her one final time. The morning sunlight glimmered off the gloss black spray paint of the Bentley, forcing me to shield my eyes. She pressed forward, opening the back door, hurrying me in before she climbed in after me.
"Take us to the manor, Brendon." She ordered. Brendon agreed before the car sprung to life, rolling away from the sidewalk. The two of us remained in silence during the drive to Long Island – a silence that I well appreciated after the constant barrage of questions I had last night, and that I would get as soon as my father arrived home. I sighed, breaking the silence.
"In the modern version of the prodigal son, he asks his father to leave the front porch lights burning if he had forgiven him for all he has done. This is kinda like that, isn't it?" I asked a question of my own. "He talks to the cab driver about all the things he did. Terrible things. Unforgivable, even. Yet, when he arrived home..."
"All the lights had been turned on." Cassidy finished my sentence. "Is that what you'd think would happen as we pull up to the manor?"
"No," I admitted, staring out the window as the surrounding area became familiar again.
"Good," She responded, coldly. "Because, I'm not prepared to listen to your entire sad story, either."
"Sure," I said and we went back into silence for the rest of the drive. When we finally arrived at the manor, my heart seemed to have settled down slightly. It was empty, the driveway empty and the garage had been locked. I stepped out of the car, standing in front of the stone stairway that leads up to the large door. Cassidy walked past me as the doors swung open from the inside and I followed.
"It still looks the same," I spoke, taking in the sight of the grand entrance hall that stretched to the open fireplace at the end. It always burned when I was a kid but now, it hadn't even been filled with cold ash. It had been cleaned without a single smoke stain remaining. The marble floors were impeccable, too, with no tiny footprints that belonged to the younger me. I walked over towards the living room, dropping down into one of the couches and allowed it to swallow me whole and admitted silently that there had been a certain amount of comfort in being home after so long.
"Miss Grace," Cassidy spoke, standing in the doorway.
"Been a while since I answered to that name. It's going to take a bit of getting used to." I shrugged, looking at the assistant.
"I do believe it might be a good idea to retire to your room for a shower and change of clothes before your father arrives."
"Whatever you say," I spoke brushing her off as I climbed stairs to my room and into the shower attached to it. I ran the water, fidgeting with it until it was the right temperature before undressing and stepping in. The cascading hot water felt good on my skin, unknotting twists and ties in my muscles I hadn't even know were there as steam curled off my bare self. I ran my finger across the scar in my shoulder before stepping out to dry myself.
The clothes in my drawers had been exactly how my younger self packed them – an unironed crumbled mess, stuffed in a half-hearted attempted to make my room look presentable. I rolled my eyes, then massaged the bridge of my nose, realizing nothing had changed in since then. Though, my clothes had seemed to have shrunk by three inches.
I walked towards my bedroom window, looking out onto the driveway as a single red car pulled in quickly. I sighed, seeing my father step out.
YOU ARE READING
Vertigo
ActionDawn's life has always been privileged - best schools and even better clothes, yet she had always felt as if something were missing. Until, it all fell apart, forcing her to spend the rest of her life running. But, she can't run anymore.
