They didn’t approve of my choices to try to live my life as I saw fit. As punishment—since there was nothing they could hold against me anymore—they hadn’t shown up to my graduation.
I should be to be used to this.
Freezing me out until I gave in and did what they wanted had been their favorite punishment growing up.
And they were waiting for me to come back and apologize.
Not this time.
Plus, I was sure my worrisome mother would contact me sometime later when she realized I wouldn’t be making the first move. Yet, the fact that they didn’t come to celebrate my achievement with me had left its mark, and now, even after two weeks, I was still feeling the brunt of it.
I closed my eyes and tried to shake away the hurt.
Upon the agreement of the inheritance my grandparents left me, the money was deposited to my bank account as soon as I graduated from college, which I received last Monday.
It wasn’t enough for me to live off of for the rest of my life, but it had been a substantial amount of money that meant I didn’t have to depend on my dad’s allowances each month. I had been able to rent an apartment in downtown Sacramento.
I had also just gotten my first job out of school, illustrating a children’s book for an up-and-coming children’s author. Ironically, the story was about a small bunny trying to make friends.
I had wanted to do this since high school when I realized my art wasn’t going to cut it in the real world. I needed to find a career that would be stable enough for me to live without my parents’ interference and yet still be creative in some way.
It was a perfect medium.
My parents wanted me to move back home and work for my dad for a year before applying for law school.
They wanted me to follow in his footsteps.
They also wanted me close so that they could keep an eye on me.
I was tired of living my life in fear, which I had done for the past two years. Afraid the King’s Men MC might have found out I was the key witness that sent their VP, Roman Stone, to prison. I had been deathly afraid when Dad had called me a few months before and told me new evidence had come to light to prove Roman’s innocence.
I had been plagued with the guilt that I might have sent an innocent man to prison, even though I wasn’t the one to point him out.
I had told the prosecuting attorney on the case repeatedly that I would not be able to pinpoint the man who had committed the murder, considering how dark it had been that night. I found my memory of it to be spottier and spottier with each day that passed.
But it hadn’t been me who identified Roman Stone as the killer. The video recording I took had his voice on there.
Now that the new evidence had come out, the recording was being torn to shreds by his defense attorney, and I still wasn’t sure if he was innocent.
I didn’t know, and the fact that he might have been and had spent the last two years in prison…
My stomach seemed to be weighed down by lead.
I had half a mind to track down the man. It was only Dad’s warning that the man was dangerous and the fact that he was sure the new evidence was fabricated that had stopped me from acting on that impulse.
If I wasn’t wrong in recording it—that I really helped catch the right man who murdered a police officer—that meant a convicted criminal had been set loose on the streets.
My only saving grace was that I knew my identity had been kept a secret, and only my parents and the prosecuting attorney knew. There wasn’t a way for them to figure it out.
My stomach rumbled at that moment to remind me that I hadn’t eaten since early this morning.
Deciding to leave my troubles behind me, I grabbed my keys and purse, and walked out the door, ensuring it was locked.
The apartment I rented was much more expensive than the others, but I thought it was worth it, considering how safe it was.
I took the elevator down to the lobby and stepped out when the doors opened. The late afternoon sun shone through the windows in the lobby.
People moved about in and out of the building, and something peaceful about this had me smiling.