“Let’s get some sleep. I’ll lock up.” Dad gave me a quick kiss. “Night, punkin’.”
“Night, Dad.”
I trudged up the stairs to my old bedroom. Nudging the door open, I peered inside after flipping on the light. The corkboard across the room was filled with pictures of my old life—mainly Charles and Millie.
Dance trophies lined the shelf which ran a few feet under the ceiling. Dance shoes were neatly lined up in the closet.
I walked farther into the room.
The scarf Charles bought me from Italy lay on the back of the chair. The stuffed animal he’d given me was on the bed where I left it.
My reflection caught in the mirror of my white-wood vanity. Dark hair like my father’s spilled over my shoulders. Haunted chestnut eyes watched me through my thin frame. A picture of me laughing with Charles’ hands wrapped my waist was a stark difference from what I saw now.
The room was like a tomb.
A stack of papers caught my attention. I swallowed hard and took a steadying breath as I recognized them as my scholarship renewal at Juilliard. Everywhere I looked, I couldn’t escape my past.
I ran my fingers over a picture of the dance studio at Juilliard on the mirror. When the accident happened, it was my college summer break. As soon as my conviction was announced, my scholarship was pulled. The papers caught my attention again and I shoved them in a drawer. Quickly I changed into my soft, pink pajamas. Tomorrow, I’d box all the memories up. Start fresh. For now, the closet would keep everything out of sight—out of mind.
The teddy bear Charles gave me for our one-month anniversary was the first to claim a spot in the closet. Dad knocked at the door as I pulled the covers over me. “Are you getting settled okay?”
“I am. Thanks, Dad.” The familiar goodnight routine soothed the anxiety my walk down memory lane caused.
Dad looked around the room and then back to me. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to keep. We can box up some stuff tomorrow if you want.”
“That sounds great. Love you.” Dad got me, he always had.
“Love you, too.”
As I closed my eyes, I took a deep breath. I survived my first partial day out. Sleep claimed me before long.
“London, wakeup, sweetheart. London, I’m here.”
Charles’ warm voice was like a caress. My eyes fluttered open, met by warm loving eyes.
He sighed and released the tension in his shoulders. “Thank God, you pulled through.”
“Pulled through what?” My voice came out hoarse. There was something under my nose. I touched the obstruction, wanting it removed. Charles stopped me. Was it an oxygen line? Was I in a hospital?
Charles pressed his lips to mine. A sneer formed on his face as his eyes became evil. “You pulled through so you can pay for all you’ve done.”
“What?” My heartbeat thudded in my ears. I tried to move. Concrete filled my limbs, keeping me immobile.
Charles held a photo in front of my face. His breath smelled of alcohol. A boy lying unnatural-like underneath my left front car tire. It was terrible. My stomach lurched.
He tossed it aside revealing a new image.
A picture of me bloody from the crash. A bottle of alcohol in the passenger seat. Bile rose in my throat.
A new image appeared.
The mother of the boy knelt down at his body, crying. Make it stop! Make it stop!
The images were gruesome. Uncontrollable sobs left my body. I never wanted this to happen. I was so sorry. So so sorry. I never meant for someone to get hurt.
“This is all because of you, London. All your fault.” Charles spit in my face.
I sat up gasping for air. My skin clammy. My room. I was in my room. A dream. It was just a dream. Desperate for light to banish the darkness, I searched for the lamp switch. A soft glow bathed the room as I heaved oxygen into my lungs.