Sparks Fly

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Twelve Treasons and a Denim Jacket

Here it is...

-VIVKELLER23
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Rain

Stupid, stupid, stupid...

Rain jerked the steering wheel sharply, the tires squealing on the recently rain-slicked road. She'd rushed out of the shelter in a blur. Hadn't even stopped to think where she was headed before she'd pulled out into the street.

Stupid, handsome jerk face! He'd ruined an already lonely Thanksgiving by showing up to try to serenade her.

Well, he could use the stupid cash her father had paid him to get himself singing lessons and a first class ticket out of Granite Woods!

Ouch, Rainy.

She swerved into the right lane to avoid having to slow down to match the speed of the Volkswagen in front of her. It wasn't until the right lane forced her to turn right at the last streetlight that Rain realized where she was going.

Back to her old gilded cage.

Well, perhaps it would help to keep Teagan Miller away.

Rain slowed the car down as she got onto the familiar paved road. She used the windshield wipers to clear the raindrops from the windows until she noticed the grand white estate, standing proud on its rolling hill.

She hit the brakes halfway up the driveway and shut off the car. Then she glared.

It was so picture perfect. So regal. She hated the sight of it, knowing how empty and cold it truly was.

The only times she'd felt any joy had been when Mama was alive. After that, she'd only survived inside the huge walls because Isa had been there to offer support. She'd remade herself to match the stony exterior because it was the only way to cope with the past.

But now her walls had come down, and with it, she hoped to see the fall of the Sullivan Estate.

Rain hadn't gone to the town newspaper to share her ghosts. She wasn't so desperate that she would go to the very people who'd helped cover up the truth over two years ago either.

No, Rain had gone a more historical route. She'd nailed her own version of Luther's 95 Theses on the front doors of every family, business, and agency that had failed her.

She called it: Sullivan's 12 Treasons. It was pretty creative considering she was seen as the frosty Ice Queen and the names listed had wronged her. In a way, she was finally waging a war for all the times she'd been silenced "for her own good."

And, dang, it felt good!

On the papers now posted around town, she'd called Timothy Jeffers out by name for forcing himself on her that long ago night. She'd named her father as the main conspirator in the scheme to keep her rape a secret. She'd listed those who'd played a part in hiding her experience, and how much their silence had been worth. And as if that wasn't enough, she'd run extra copies of her grievances and mailed them to a news station in Reignville, California.

Her error had been depending on any man to save her. She'd had the power to destroy them all along.

She was fixing her mistake now.

Rain hurried out of her car, hoping to have enough time to make a copy for her father. It was Thanksgiving after all, and she was on a mission to thank every fool who'd ever had the audacity to underestimate her.

That's when she heard the gravel crunch behind her.

Rain spun around, her hands balled into fists, as if that would protect her.