I turn to Jackson because this is not good. It raises so many more questions already.
He tells me, “There’s nothing about her after the fire. All it says is that she went to live with her uncle and aunt. I mean I called people to ask. I called even higher people than those that I know through the law firm, they all said the same thing, there’s nothing about her after what happened.”
“How can that information go missing?” I mean that is a big fucking chunk that has gone, it has to be somewhere.
“People with enough money can make anything go away. So, the only person that can tell you anything is the one sitting in your home,” Jackson tells me and as the car pulls up. I stare at the house as I prepare myself for a conversation that I’ve been playing in my head since I woke up this morning.
Walking into the house, I make my way toward the kitchen, and I stop as I walk past the dining table. Hope is sitting in the same seat that she was this morning. I share a glance with Jackson who is looking over at her too. Her head is still bowed, so she's looking down at the table. I continue my journey to the kitchen.
“You got a new maid?” Jackson asks as he follows me in. I have a maid that comes in twice a week to clean the whole house, but she hasnevercleaned it like this. I mean there is nothing on the counters, the kitchen looks like new it’s so spotless.
"No, I haven't." I put the bags down onto the counter. Leaning there, I look through the glass doors leading to the dining room. I look back over at Hope at the table. "That's where I left her this morning," I tell him as I walk over to the table, sitting two chairs away from her. Jackson stands behind her, but she knows he's there. Her body tenses when I sit down, but it tenses, even more, the moment Jackson walked up behind her.
Placing the file on the table, I look over at Hope, but her eyes don't leave the table. "You didn't have to clean. I have a maid who comes in to do that." Nothing, but I'm not expecting her to talk to me just yet anyway. I slide the papers over to her so that her eyes don't have to move from where they are. "Hope Matthews," I add and I see her flinch. She goes to move her hands from her lap but stops. "Your parents died in a fire with your brother, but it doesn't say what happened to you after that."
She says nothing, and I look behind her as Jackson starts walking toward her and I shake my head. "You can read it if you want." She brings her hand up, takes the document and turns it the other way around so that she is staring at a blank piece of paper. I see Jackson nodding his head towards the kitchen, and I get up to follow him.
He hands me a beer, and I turn back to watch Hope as I lean on the counter. Jackson stands next to me. "Leo, that girl in there looks…" He stops.
“She looks like a broken doll, and it will take a long fucking time to make her whole again,” I tell him. I want to help her. I don’t know why, but I do. But I can’t unless she talks to me.
“I’m going to do some digging around to see if I can find anything. I’ll try and get a fire report or something.”
Finishing his beer, Jackson leaves, and I stay where I am for a moment longer as I just want to watch her.
Underneath that skin, I know there's a beautiful girl. I can already see it. Her eyes alone are the most beautiful I've ever seen, and I want to help bring out the light that she has hidden behind all that darkness.
Walking over to her I say, "I brought you some clothes today. I was told that you need to stay warm now as the weather is getting cool. So, once you've showered, you can wear some of them." I place the bags on the table. She doesn't move just yet, but I can see her hands moving up from her lap.
Standing, Hope takes the bags and walks over to the stairs and up to her room. Tonight I’m going to make sure that she isn’t sleeping on the floor again.
She needs to be sleeping in the bed that’s in the room.
CHAPTER7
HOPE
“You’re starting to learn.The quieter you are, the better it will be for you. They’ll be coming for you next week, so I only have a week left, so you better learn faster.” Uncle Jack shuts the door as he leaves my prison after another, what he likes to call a lesson, but I call hell.
Leaning my head on the wall, I close my eyes and think about my parents and what they would have wanted for me. I have no idea who it is I’m going to, but I don’t think it will be anywhere better than here.
I hear the door open, and I keep my head on the window and look out at the night lights. I have no idea why this man is doing this for me. Is he nice to build my trust so then when he hands me over again it won't hurt as much? What he doesn't know is that I lost my trust for anyone a very long time ago and the most important thing he doesn't know is I'll never trust a man again.
He found out about my parents but that didn't surprise me, they all know what happened to them, but what did surprise me is that he showed me the papers. That was one rule that had never been broken before now; never show me,my parents, never remind me where I came from. Everyone listened to the rule, so what fucked up game is he playing?
“You haven’t slept in your bed,” he says. I look down at my hands as he continues. “I just remembered that I never told you my name, it’s Leo.”
I start peeling some of the skin off my knuckle. I got the lotion, but it takes time for my skin to get better after I have missed it for a while. Leo sits down in front of me leaving a small space between us. I see his hands moving over to mine and they being to shake, not a lot because I’ve learned to control it, but just a small amount that I know what’s happening and I think he can see it too. One thing I’ve picked up about him, he takes in the details around him. He knows what he’s going for and he knows how to get it.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He stops my hand from peeling anymore of my skin. “I want to help you.” His voice comes out a lot softer this time, but I won’t fall into that trap. Pulling my hands away from him, I turn to look out of the window. “Hope, are you hiding from someone?”
I close my eyes as I hear his question again in my head.Yes, I’m hiding from someone, but he’s found me. You have caught me for him. Then I hear the question again in my head. What am I missing here? Why are all the pieces not fitting in the right places with him? Do I have the wrong pieces to the puzzle?
“Was,” I whisper. I don’t understand what’s going on here. Is he playing some kind of game with me? Toying with me until he releases me into the clutches of my original captor? The strange thing is that he doesn’t seem to be playing a game at all. He seems genuinely interested and concerned for me. But maybe that’s part of the trick?
“Are you not running from them anymore?”
If you are holding me here for them, then no I’m not running anymore, but if you aren’t then, yes, I’m still running. I stay quiet as I look out the window.