LOVING THE DEVIL [02]

Chapter 22.

CHAPTER 22: Cyn

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A girl who once grew up in the confines of houses that were anything but her home had learned of independence at an early age in her life. She was taught that when her mother was away, she wouldn't be seeing her home for a while and that she would be staying with friends.

As she grew older, nothing ever lasted long and when her mother returned one day with a man at her side, she knew nothing would ever be the same. Her stepfather was there to stay and even though he was nothing but good to her, she couldn't help but feel bad for her biological dad.

The woman never met him, but she always felt guilty like she was replacing him, which is how she felt about herself even to the present day.

Cynthia Bishop.

Always punctual. Always prepared. Always used.

In middle school, it was for answers on the science homework or exam; in high school it was for sex because he wanted to feel like a man; in college, it was because of drunk nights and sweet lies.

That was who she was and how she was perceived by everyone and it also explained her sudden decision to leave for a while. With how much chaos that happened in her life, she needed to find that little girl again who took everything in her stride and was still happy.

Her eyes gazed up in wonder at the estate, piercing darkly as she remembered what it was like to grow up around Cassidy's parents for a while. Probably the shittiest three weeks of my life, she thought to herself before she pressed the button on the side of the gate.

The woman felt a sense of sorrow for Cassidy, knowing all too well her mother was the definition of a witch. She never liked Summer and she never would, despite her mother constantly saying it wasn't at all polite to hate on someone so high up in society.

To her, a person's place in society doesn't determine whether they get respect or not. Cynthia wasn't going to respect someone who looked down on people and even their own children. Respect was earned in her eyes and Summer Harrington definitely doesn't get it.

"Hello? Who is this?" asked one of the maids inside the house.

"Cynthia Bishop. I have a message for Summer Harrington...if she doesn't mind." the maid confirmed that soon to be former Mrs Harrington was out, sorting some final arrangements before she moves back across the country, "that's fine. I'll be back this afternoon."

The woman rolled her eyes before turning back and getting into her car and slamming the door shut. Every time I call, she's out; every time I leave a letter, she doesn't reply, she thought, she might as well move out from the fact she's never there.