"Love yourself and everything else falls into line. You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world." ---Lucile Ball The bell rings and the students of King Junior High embrace another casual Friday as the crowd narrows the halls. The over achievers rush to their honor classes, making sure they arrive early in order to be prepared for their next subject. While other students, like athletes, goof off and push each other into the lockers. Some locker doors open so that horny teenage couples can enjoy their make out sessions. Kids sneeze and wipe their snot on shirts because of the overused, nasty, mildewed text books that they carry-which have been around for centuries. Kayla Ashby, a shy and quiet twelve year old girl, shuffles down the hall with her nose stuck in a Goose Bumps book. She glances over her black rimmed eyeglasses at the blue eyed fraternal twins, Garrett and Wyatt Winters-the cutest boys in the eighth grade. Garrett seeks her pale green eyes. Quickly, Kayla hides her face behind her mousey brown hair as she continues to read her book. "Kayla, Watch out!" A hand grasps Kayla's shoulder before she bangs her head on one of the opened locker doors. Kayla peers up to the boy who saved her from what could have been the most embarrassing moment. Or at least that's what she thought-in junior high everything that happens can be an embarrassment. Why? It's feast or famine among the cliques. You're either cool like the Winters Brothers, or considered a nerd, like Kayla. Therefore, the room of embarrassment comes in spades, with one of the cool kids making fun of the less fortunate. An uproar of laughter breaks through the hall. I will not cry...I will not cry... Repeating the old saying over and over again, Kayla hugs the book and removes the butterfly burette from her brown hair-concealing her face. Yet, her emotions fail her and tears protrude, from the corner of her eyes as they gloss over. "Are you okay?" with his right index finger, Garrett tips her chin and wipes away some of the unwanted tears. "I didn't want to see this pretty face of yours get bruised because of an opened locker." "Huh?" Words escape Kayla as she stares into his sapphire blue eyes. "Umm." Her mouth dries. "Thanks." Oh, lord, I could look into those eyes for days. The way his irises sparkle, I wonder what they would look like especially at night. Drool much Kayla? Stop gawking at him... She tugs on her loose blue T-shirt that covers her large breasts-which seemed like they appeared overnight. While other girls wear daisy dukes, and tank tops to tempt the boys, Kayla covers her whole body in order to push them away --never showing any skin because of the ugly and angry scars that have been branded into her chest. Garrett starts to chit chat, as Kayla tries to pay attention to him-but her thoughts run away from her. Garrett Winters must be the hottest boy in the eighth grade. His black wild hair covers that scar on the corner of his forehead. His scent...it's cedar from the woodland areas. I'm so in heaven...I could stare at him for hours. He is just..... Dream worthy. "Kayla, are you listening to me?" He asks. The crack in his voice sends shivers all over her body. "I was wondering if I could walk you to class." "You want me to walk with you?" she stutters. Quickly, Kayla covers her folder so Garrett's eyes won't glance at the two pink hearts and initials G.W. and K.A. written all over. "Really?" Taken back, Kayla's eyes wander to the left side then to the right side, wondering if one of the "Plastics" is nearby. No Barbie wanna-bees near me. He must have lost his freaking mind. But I won't complain, just being in the same space as him makes my heart flutter. "I'm asking you and no one else," he says as a dimple appears on the left side of his cheek--bringing out his smile. Garrett relaxes his left hand in his jean pockets and extends the other. Shyly, Kayla accepts it. Weird sensations enter her lady bits as butterflies flutter all over her. Chicken pimples or what normal people call them goose bumps, pop up on her arms. This must be love, isn't it? Like I would know, no one has ever showed me any type of love.... Just hell.... Throughout the day, Garrett spends as much time with Kayla as possible. She maybe a geek to others, but in his eyes she has natural beauty. From her delicate skin to the way her green irises shine with yellow specks in them, making them look like she has tiger eyes. Nervously, he rubs the back of his black hair and continuously rambles about anything he could think of. Just so that he can spend time with her. Instead of listening to what he is saying, Kayla stares at his physique, picturing him in his tight ripped blue jeans and white tank tops (also known as wife beaters). Even at lunch time, Garrett and the guys from the baseball team brag about their games and scores. Each trying to out-do the other by arguing who had the winning run. Eager for boys' attention, the "pretty" girls at the table have their eyes fixated on the team- pretending to be interested in the conversation, while Kayla picks at her Salisbury steak with her fork. God! This gravy smells like shit and it's making me ill. Reminds me of Millie Stanton's god awful cooking. Kayla then rests her hands on her stomach while it does summersaults. She watches Garrett's every move, from his emotions to his hand gestures. Imagine what it would be like if his hand touched hers. One of the best love songs, "Emotions" by Mariah Carey, pops in her head-after all she's in love. I can't believe this God's gift to teenage girls is into me. If this boy only knew that he has invaded my dreams...and his face has brought me comfort-- especially after dealing with my screwed up pretend family. "Why would you think a guy would love you, you have been beaten with an ugly stick...So don't bother...you're nothing but a screwed up cunt... You're just damage goods..." Distressing voices float inside Kayla interrupting her moment of bliss. She zones out thinking of the hell whole place she calls home with the Stanton's. Oh yes. Senator Seth and Millie Stanton portray themselves like an ideal couple with two "well to do" identical twin boys-- Edwin and Elijah. All they need to make their portrait family complete is Kayla- who's an Orphan Annie-so they can be an "All American family". This family, however, is far from prefect. The amount of physical and mental abuse that's behind closed doors would have Child Protection Services breaking the door down. Kayla called them only once after the social worker left the house and there was hell to pay. She was beaten to a pulp and her brown hair burned to a crisp. Kayla never tried to find help again. As for a mother, Millie Stanton's far from it. She turns a blind eye and often ignores her children. Her husband, the senator, sleeps around with any short skirt and high heel there is-the younger they are, the more turned on the guy gets. "I'm broken..." The lost words utter out of Kayla's mouth as her lips tremble. An unwanted tear slips down her cheek. She wipes it before any more falls down her face. "Baby, are you alright?" Garrett's gentle touch on her lap startles Kayla as she practically jumps off the damn bench. He then brushes his knuckles across her soft pink cheeks. "Fine." She bites down on her lips and sulks back into the chair, trying to control her emotions. She looks over to her best friend who has been there for her since day one, Violet Palmer. Violet questions Kayla as her big blue eyes soften. Kayla shrugs her shoulders innocently. Then she wipes her sweaty palms on the white Guess jeans that she borrowed from Violet. "We need to talk," The blonde bombshell mouths to her. "Not now VI," Kayla pleads innocently. Violet shakes her head and turns her attention to Wyatt as she flicks part of the blonde hair that falls on the side of her. Garrett's twin winks at Violet as strands of his short light-colored hair cover his eyes. He then grabs Violet's knees. Which makes her giggle because it tickles. Kayla watches them and twirls a strand of her brunette hair around her finger. Every boy wants VI and every girl is either afraid of her or envies her. Just ask one of the plastic bitches, Reagan Woodrow. VI ripped the girl's hair out for trying to fight me...I wish I had an ounce of the bombshell's luck. Violet Palmer doesn't need luck. She not only has a sense of style and a bitchin attitude when it comes to protecting her friends, VI's family is what some call the "elite". Granted, they go to all of those stuck up charity events and contribute to society, but this family has their own uniqueness. The Palmers are warm and loving with their Yankee traditions and their northern sense of humor. Since VI's family lived in Baltimore, her father insists she learns self-defense so he takes her to the shooting range every weekend. He firmly believed wealthy or not, a girl should know how to protect herself. He even offered to take me shooting, but the douchebag, Millie thought it would hurt Seth's reputation and she is not to fond of their northern ways...God forbid that I learn to protect myself and ruin the good ole' senator's rep. "Kayla, did I lose you?" Garrett's soft voice draws Kayla back from la-la land and she stops playing with her hair. "What?" She drops her hands into her lap and gawks at him. "I'm sorry," Kayla gazes down at their hands caressing one and other. The pain she goes through on a daily basis, creeps up to her throat. She clears it and says, "I just get lost in my own thoughts." "I understand." He stares at her with his beautiful blue eyes like he's seeing her damaged spirit. "If you need to talk, I'm a good listener." God, please don't let anything happen to him. The Past... "Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans"--- John Lennon Massive rough hands shove me into the pool house. I scream bloody murder. His left hand smacks my face as his knuckles dent my cheeks. After, the metallic tasting liquid seeps to the corner of my mouth. Then the horrible predator slams me into the wall. His hands wrap around my throat. My breath dies within trying to grasp air, his grip tightens and not before long I will lose consciousness. "Shut up, you fucking cock teaser." The disdain in Edwin Stanton's words are of pure hatred. "Get the fucking zip ties." "Please," I shout, praying for the Lord's help. "Go ahead and scream bitch, we love it when you fight us," Edwin says as he grits his teeth. "Just so you know the more you scream, the harder things will be for you." The baritone sound vibrates through his voice leaving me numb and scared shitless. Tears gush down my face and onto the damp grey carpeted floor. "Please don't!" The room silences for a second until devilish laughter surfaces. "Please...don't," I mutter it again. "We all have to make a sacrifice for this family, superstar," Elijah, Edwin's twin, whispers in my ear and then licks it. "Kayla, are you with me?" I blink as I watch the setting sun over Birmingham's skyline. "What?" I slightly budge on the plush grey couch. "Just what I thought," Dr. Patrice Doyle says with her strong southern accent. She peers down above her red rimmed Sally Jessy Raphael glasses as they rest on her perfectly sculpted nose. Patrice has been the fifth psychologist within the last three years. Her informal ways and rock star attitude, plus the fact she could be a cross between a motorcycle mama and an ex-play boy bunny, gives me comfort and hope. Unlike the others who thought I just went through some teenage drama, Patrice is the only psychologist that actually gets me. She is like a tornado, feisty and full of spunk. I just know that she's going to be the one to fix me. She reminds me of what I perceive my birth mother to be. "You've got to forgive, not forget Kayla, but forgive," she lectures like a mother. "I'll try to forgive the douche canoe and the cunt that are my so called parents," I say fighting back the forsaken tears. "But the other pussy ass fucktards, I will never forgive." I suck the corner of my lip then bluntly state, "Well, one day I will get my revenge and like other frozen things, revenge is a dish that is best served cold." "Kayla you know I don't like that four letter word, even if it fits the description," Patrice's stare made me squirm on the couch like I was a child in the principal's office. "Yeah, but not if you're telling the truth about the individual's personality," I shrug my shoulders. "Darlin' you'll hate yourself more if you resort to vengeance." She rises from her desk and walks over to her comfy red office chair. Dr. Doyle then pulls it towards me and takes a seat. She leans forward and rests her hands on my knee. "As a doctor, I have to emphasize with all God's creatures. But as a human being-some of them, well they just need to be stuffed like the two dickheads," she then says, "I'd like to see them mounted on my den wall. They would jazz up the place quite nicely." she chuckles. As Patrice continues her lecture, I grunt and zone out thinking of ways to injure the two assmonkey's. I could brand them with an iron with my initials on it or tie up their hands with cable ties to a maple tree-just watch fiery red ants eat the flesh off of them. "I'm just tired..." "Of the nightmares or the fact that you hide from any type of relationship?" The doctor breathes and exhales, probably trying to figure out the words to say. "When you first walked through those doors, you were lost," she continues, "You're alcohol abuse and your self-medicating drove you to the edge. You were at a point that if you didn't do something we would have lost you. You came through my door and you were high. I knew you were on something other than pills." With her index finger, Dr. Doyle lifts my head towards her dark chocolate brown eyes. "It's time to go home." "Go home?" I rub my temples with my two index fingers. "So Seth and Millie can just write me a check like I was another damn scandal." I wrap my arms hugging my chest. "How can I go back to a place that once made me like this?" I wave both hands slowing, showing my body. "I'm broken because of them." "Kayla, there is an old saying about a victim and a survivor." Her eyes burning into mine, pulling at my inner thoughts. "A victim, who becomes broken, choses to. She or he fills their emotions with regret and self-pity. Making horrible decisions that reflects their life-one mistake after another until they feel the emptiness inside of them. Now, a survivor pushes through the rough times and rises above all else. The survivor is strong and falls back on the one thing that brings her peace and serenity." "That's deep Patrice," I scratch the top of my head with my index finger than ask, "What is the one thing?" "Faith, Kayla," Patrice states. "The one thing that no one can ever take away is your faith. You can lose everything else in your life, but your faith is something that no man or woman can ever take from you. As long as you believe in faith, you will always have someone and something in your corner backing you up." She continues, "You have friends and a man who you left behind. It's time to forgive and to put your life back on track. Yes I said forgive not forget." "I want to go home," hypnotically, I repeat the words. "Remember, when you decide to go home, I'm only a plane ride away." She taps my knee and strolls to her desk. "I'm available anytime day or night." Kayla, before you go did you do your assignment that I asked of you?" I nod my head in a yes fashion, and I take the piece of paper out of my back pocket, and I unfold it. With shaking hands I tell her that it's a poem by Julie Mishler Called "The Woman in the Mirror" As I look in the mirror At the face staring back at me I see a shell of a woman Or the woman I am meant to be Not the real me I want so much I need to feel I want it all But can I? Can I be that woman? I close my eyes and ponder The smell of your skin The way your hands peruse my body Grabbing my hips Swaying to the groove Grinding into me My fears rule me Control what I do The passion and desire That burns within me Ignites my thoughts Fires my dreams Could I? Just let loose Reach up Wrap my arms around your neck Yes I can! Free my soul Let the music take me away Follow my dreams Let my passion flow I open my eyes Looking into the mirror once more I see a beautiful woman A passionate, desirable woman And loudly I say Yes, yes I will be the woman in my dreams! "Kayla, that poem is beautiful, I think that she captured how you feel one hundred percent," She says with a wink. I wipe the tears from my face, and head to the door, one last question before I leave, "Dr. Doyle do you think my mother is okay?" "Kayla, that question came out of left field," she replies and taps her pen. I turn away from her, so that she can't see my face, because I know if she sees me she will know the more of my dark secrets from the past. "Kayla, dear, I think your mother is fine and she is proud of you wherever she is." Patrice smiles. "I hope one day that I will meet her. That's my only dream other than dealing with my demons, I want to know her." I hug my chest. "Honey please remember that she did what she thought was best for you at that time. Please think about what we've talked about and let me know if you are indeed going back home." She hands me a script. "Yes, ma'am! I will, and thank you for everything that you have done for me." I take the script and sigh. "I will always do anything for you Kayla; remember to keep your head held high, you are no longer a victim." She places her left hand on my right shoulder and gently squeezes it. I haven't been back to Seattle in seven years. I spent my time getting my degree in engineering and I'm one of the best damned architects in the south. I've seen all varieties of life and travelled as much as I could. Even met some amazing people, but the ghosts of my past still haunt me. Driving to my home, I keep going over this therapy session in my head. "It's now my aim, my goal to face my demons head on. I have no other choice, it has to happen, maybe then I could move on and smile once more." Automatically, I flick the blinker heading towards my studio apartment. "I have to forgive them, so I could forgive myself. Does it scare the hell out of me? Well I would be a liar if I said no that it didn't, because it scares the shit out of me." Chrome cologne mixed in with bourbon taints my skin. My voice is hoarse from screaming. I shiver and whimper as two naked bodies slam into me, taking away my innocence. Shrieking, my eyes pop open and my chest screams for air. I scramble to sit up, messing the cream colored silk sheets-frantically, running my hands over my face as tears drop on to the canopy bed. These nightmares have become more vivid since I returned back home to Seattle. "Relax, Kayla. No one can find you or get you." Calming my breathing before I move, I tug the damp sheets to my chin-wishing they would protect me from my dreams. The green numbers on the alarm clock blurs as it reads one thirty in the morning. I blink and rub my eyes from the fog. "Oh shit, I still have my contacts in. They're going to be a bitch to get out." I close my eyes. The fierce grey-blue eyes with murky yellow tints in them along with stale cigarettes and expensive cologne appear. I jump and snap my eyelids open. "Seven weeks since I'm back and now my anxiety sky rockets," I sigh. "Really? Did you expect it to be different, Kayla?" I mumble. "You knew coming home would be hard." Since I'm blessed being a whopping 5ft 4 inches tall, I scoot over to my right side by the little set of steps I had built so I won't fall flat on my face. After stepping down, I lean over to the right side of the bed and snag the wooden baseball bat that Garrett gave me at one of his victory games in eighth grade. How I managed to keep it all these years simply amazes me! Slowly and carefully, I head to the big oak front door and make sure all the locks are in place, including the deadbolt. "Okay, I typed in the code... so the system's on." I inhale and exhale sharply. Sneaking around the house, I check every nook and cranny. My fingers find their way up the wall in the pitch dark to the light switch. I flip the switch as the light flickers on, I inspect each state of art appliance and making sure that it is in its rightful place with no extra fingerprints on the stainless steel fridge. "Kitchen is checked." I loosen the bat. I lean over to the dining room wall and flip a switch. Every piece of furniture from the oak table to the designer high back chairs are intact. No sign of entry. I swipe my fingers along the table as dust attaches to my pointer finger, then wipe it on my pink boxers. "I really should entertain or invite people over for dinner. This room needs to be used." Exhausted, I carry myself to the living room, and lifted the heavy burgundy curtains with the bat. Of course there's nothing there. You really need to sleep, Kayla, or you're going to lose your mind. As I peer out into the Seattle skyline, thousands of lights from the city, give me serenity. "I am a survivor not a victim," I whisper as I peer up at the sky, a shooting star crosses over the bridge. "The only wish I want is happiness." The curtain slightly budges. "Bastards!" I pivot quickly with my eyes shut, swinging the baseball bat at the empty air. I pause and drop the bat to my left leg. "Get a fucking grip, Kayla." I plop down on one of the black leather couches and kick my feet up on the glass top coffee table. After I reach for the remote, I turn on the television that's mounted above the fireplace. There is no place like home. Immediately, the scene from The Wizard of Oz comes on, when Dorothy taps her shoes and repeats these famous words over and over. There's no place like home, there's no place like home. This home is what I have wanted ever since I was a little girl. A place that shouts Kayla Ashby. The old warehouse with the high ceilings and open beams that settles in the heart of town called to me. The best part about it is that I'm in the middle of Pike Street market and not far from Mt. Rainier. For a bonus, my favorite restaurant, Ivar's is close by, when I need a quick dinner. With hard work and determination, I was able to buy it, gut it, and design the old warehouse to my exact specifications-it's everything a girl like me could ask for. An actual home to live in, but it's still missing something. Then it hits me like a lightning bolt. It still needs a mother's touch. A tear slips down my cheek as I think of her and questions stir in my head. Does she think of me? Does she know that I'm alive? Does she ever miss me? I close my eyes and softly say a small prayer for her and wipe away the tears. God, I know she doesn't know me but please protect her, make sure she's okay. When the time is right, please place her back into my life. My eyes flicker to the light of the video monitor and I see no movement on the screen. Maybe a hot shower will do me good. The moonlight dances across the cool cedar wood floors in the open living room, I walk into its path and see my shadow as I check the locks on each window and door, one more time. Then I head up the spiral staircase to the corner of the master bedroom. The lights that come on automatically while the tile warmer heats the floor. I stroll to the seven divine showerheads and turn the knob to the hottest setting possible. Water sprays at all different angles. I love this bathroom with the double sinks laid in with silver granite tops. Plus, a mirror above the counter that reaches to the ceiling and cabinet. The faucet of the sink turns on with cool running water. I peer into the large oversized but completely necessary mirror. "My god, I look like death warmed over." Beady eyes and puffy cheeks, all do to the late night drawing of plans for a client. "Now I have raccoon eyes. Oh, that's attractive. Good thing I live by myself. Because Lord forbid a man see me like this, he'd be scared off. All though, if I could make the Stanton twins run that would be a fuckin' dream come true in itself." I splash the cool water over my face and dab it with a soft pink cloth. Then I drop the cloth into the sink while turning the tap off. I scuff my tired aching feet over to the glass doors of the shower that's in the opposite corner of the tub and climb in. The water beats down on these tired shoulders. It feels so good to escape the nightmare, although, all good things come to an end as the heat of the shower scalds the scar lines on my back-making them stand out. The nightmare replays in my head. Every motion, every mark made by these two men-not to mention the sensation of their bodies invading mine-breaks through the darkness from my mind. The hot relaxing shower turns into a torture chamber and a pair of hands grab hold of my throat-forcing me to hit the shower wall. "You have the best fucking cunt I have ever had," Edwin growls. His hands grip tighter around my neck, leaving his indentations. Tears protrude, again as the word "Superstar" slams into my head. After the torture, Elijah's arms comfort my naked body. So tired and exhausted, my head rests on his chest. "I'm sorry, Superstar. Edwin can get out of hand. But he's right about one thing." I peer up to Elijah's grey eyes. "Your birthmother left you here for a reason," he whispers. "You are ours. If you ever fucking leave, or try to look for your birthmother again, I will find you and hunt down everyone you love, including the little piece of shit, Garrett." He gently lifts my chin and wipes the tears. "You belong to us and no one else so don't you ever fucking think of running:" Too tired to do anything else or even talk, I just nod. Willing to shake the memory out of my head, I sniff and wipe my nose, then finish shaving my lady parts. As I open the slider door, I notice there is no towel on the bar. The one thing I need, damn I'm slacking. I step out from the shower as water drips down my naked body. I open the cabinet door and grab a huge pink fluffy towel and securely wrap it around me. Once I grab the pill bottle for my anxiety from the medicine cabinet, an eerie feeling came over me. "It's nothing." I close the cabinet door quickly. Grey eyes stare at me in the mirror. I spin around bracing my palms on the sink. No one's around, just the steam from the shower. I uncontrollably giggle and snag the medication in the other hand. "Well, no use trying to sleep now." As soon as I reach the bathroom door, I stop and make sure the coast is clear. Years of paranoia have finally made me feel like I'm losing my mind. I throw up my hair in a messy bun, put on a pair of comfy jeans and loose pink shirt. Then head back down the stairs to my small but well equipped office just on the other side of the living room. The stained glass French doors are a welcoming sight. I slump down on my black office chair and twirl the medication bottle in my hand. "Speak it, believe it, and live it!" That will be my motto. "One day, I will be free from all of this." I throw the bottle in the wastebasket. I sit and watch the clock for a minute-wondering if I made the right choice by tossing it, but for now, I want to do things completely sober. For the first time in years, I don't want to be high. I flick on the desk lamp and seven text messages appear on my phone from McKenna-- my somewhat ex-girlfriend. "Oh, great." I scan it. "Bitch, whore, slut, cunt face. You think you can break up with me." I click erase. "Okay, I don't need to go there." My so called relationship with McKenna Ramsey was just sex. She was married and well I was never looking for a relationship-especially with a woman; well not that one. I mean it wasn't like we were serious and hell, we had only slept together a few times, and each time was when I was drunk or high other than the first time on the green sofa at our dorm. I don't have a type when it comes to sex, man or woman, because GOD knows there are some sexy ones. I'm attracted to the person. It never mattered to me the color of their skin or the shape of their eyes. To me it's all pink in the middle. And because of my past, I don't know if I will ever truly be ready for a man. I'm not even sure I would ever be ready for the only one who I ever loved. Women are safer, period. After countless hours of sending designs out to get feedback from the hot pink HP laptop, a message from Myspace pops up. It's from VI. The message is dated almost four months ago. Even though it seems like I haven't been on Myspace in forever, because it's the dinosaur of social media, something told me to browse it. Really Kayla, time to update and jump into the Facebook, Instagram, and even Twitter era, I chuckle. As I rock back in my chair and read Violet's message, I bawl. Out of everyone that I walked away from, Violet and Wyatt are the two people who I missed the most. "I wonder if she's online, now." I scroll down and her name pops up. I hesitate in a response. What should I type? Will she react like the same Ol' Vi or did she change? How do you just type SURPRISE, I'm alive and well, not dead and laying in a gutter or in jail, but hey I'd love to catch up with you. I stare at the screen for a couple of minutes-tapping my finger on the desk. Nervously, I open the chat box and simply type Hi! Just two little letters, to let her know I'm still around. Instant letters appear. HELLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOO!!!!! Flashes across the screen. "Okay Kayla breathe. She responded and didn't cuss you out." My heart is beating so loud I can hear it. Before I chicken out, I give her my number and within seconds my cell vibrates. "Gutterlsut, about time you got in touch with me...Jeez, I thought I'd never hear from you again," Her voice is unusually peppy. We both breakdown and spit out nonsense to each other. Once we catch our breaths, I explain to Violet that, yes, I have dated, mostly girls and really didn't want to explain my relationships. She in returns elaborates that she loves being single and has no intentions on getting married. But her parents on the other hand want grandkids. Violet remarks that someday she'll have babies, but right now she's not ready to be a mom. I, on the other hand, can't wait to have them once all my shit settles. "You know, I'm not the only one who's been trying to track you down. Wyatt has too," Violet's voice becomes ridged. "How is he?" I ask. Besides Violet, Wyatt was one of my best friends. He's the brother I wished I had. Whenever Edwin or Elijah were out in public with me, Wyatt made sure he was nearby. He never trusted the two of them. The day he saw one of my scars, fire burst into his eyes. I had a feeling he knew it was them but he never said anything--I guess he was waiting for me to bring it up. "He's good babe. Still drop dead sexy, a real ladies man," she giggles. "He can have any woman he wants, and probably has." "Ha. Ha." I switch the phone to my right ear. "I missed you two so much. I've done a lot of traveling and I wish you had been a part of it." I sigh and rest my phone on my forehead. "Can you please tell me what's so important that Wyatt is needing me for?" "We've always needed you, Kay. A lot has happened to all of us in the last seven years," she lectures. "But I'll torture you with all of that later. Let me flip through the messages on my cell, so that I can tell him who I'm talking to. He'll be thrilled." Violet chats as she finds his last message on her cell. "Found it. Let me type in a few words and send it. Done." "Well, you found me now love bug and we have lots of time to make up for." I put my feet on my desk, getting nice and comfortable. "I promise that you will never lose me again. So now spill the beans woman, what does Wyatt need me for?" "He needs a contractor. And you are a contractor aren't you?" she asks. "A contractor, for what? Why in the hell would he need a contractor? Actually, I'm an architect, but how does he know that I do that?" I quiz her. "I have no idea. He just said that he has a project and he needs someone he can trust." Silence takes over. "Ah, found it." "Why did he think of me? Aren't there architects in Seattle?" I ask while I cross my left leg on the desk. "Really, Kayla?" Violet taps her phone. "Have the brain cells of yours rotted out of your head when you went on your hiatus? He thought of you because you're still our best friend." A sound buzzes from Violet's phone. "Oh, here he is." "Am I the topic of conversation between you two? And why are you texting him this time of morning? He may have a girl over at his house bumpin' uglies." I scratch my head. "When you left us behind, Wyatt became, well, he lost his best friend." Her voice cracks. "So forgive me if I give you shit for a while, because you put us through hell when you left without saying good bye," she sobs. "I mean would it have killed you to call and say I'm leaving?" Vi clears her throat. "But nooooooo. You just took off and didn't even go to graduation. Imagine our surprise when they called your name and you're nowhere to be seen. It was like Bam! You're here one minute and gone the next." "Shut it Vi. I know I hurt yall and I'm sorry." I search for a Kleenex on my desktop and dab my eyes. "Everyone was preparing for graduation, so it was the perfect time for me to leave." I wanted to tell her I had bought a one way ticket two months prior and prayed like hell the whole way to the bus station that I wouldn't be seen. Luckily, I was able to leave without problems. After a sniffle and finding the right words to say, I continue, "All I can say is I am sorry, there will never be enough words in the English language for me to express my true feelings to you or to Wyatt. I love you both and never, I mean it, I never wanted to intentionally hurt you." "I won't say that it's okay, because I'd be lying. But I'm glad you're home where you belong." Violet throatily laughs. "Wyatt just responded. It says, 'Umm hello, do you know it's after midnight." She snickers and responds to his message out loud. "I know but I have news...SHE'S BACK!" Then she speaks to me in good spirits. "I'll give him a few minutes and I bet he's calling or texting me." "Dang, stuck on yourself, much?" I grumble and sigh. Violet laughs her ass off while I hold the phone away from my ear as the delightful sound echoes through the phone. "Nope, not conceited, I'm convinced and conceit is an imperfection and well... I'm PERFECT." She then drops the phone and quickly snags it. "Guess who is texting me as we speak?" "Ummmmmmm let me guess, it's the pope," I sarcastically answer as I tap my chin. "No, better than the almighty. It's Wyatt and this are his remarks not mine. "OMFG. Also, please have her call me." She taps into her phone. "I just asked him if he had his ovaries in check, because he said, omfg." "You two are turds," I giggle as a genuine smile appears on my face. "Tell him I will call." Hesitantly I ask, "So do you see him a lot?" "Him or Garrett?" she ponders. Her inquisitive voice saying Garrett's name, sends uncontrollable shivers up my arms, just like the first day he and I held hands in the lunchroom. "I didn't..." I try to conceal my happiness. "You don't have to," she states. "Any time you think of him, it reflects in your voice. It gets raspy." She snickers. "Wyatt hears from his brother from time to time. Last I heard, Garrett's living in Pensacola, Florida with his bitch of a fiancée." "I couldn't care less about who he dates or marries." Even though at the moment I have a sudden chest pain that rips into me. I wonder who his fiancée could be. Yeah Kayla, keep telling yourself that and keep acting like it's no big deal. "You're a damn liar, Kayla Ashby," Vi snaps. "You can tell yourself or anyone else that, but I know your ass still has a thing for him. Remember who the people watcher is and can read faces...that would be ME. You would lose at poker because your face is easy to read. When it comes to Garrett Winters, my friend, you have love written all over you. I saw the way you two used to talk to each other and it was more than just friends having a conversation." "I won't lie, Vi. I always wondered what it would be like to be in his arms, but he's getting married, so I'll just have my dreams about him instead. I will always love him. But everyone deserves to be happy and if he's getting married..." I breathe deeply as my throat tightens and tears form, "then he's happy and that's all I ever wanted for him." I cough then say. "What about you? Have you given into Wyatt's mojo yet?" "If you must know, I could go for a long ride on his hog," she brags. "OMG, you two have totally hooked up. I had a hunch you two would be together." "No, babe. We have never played hide the sausage, not that I haven't gotten off from his mental images, on many occasions. I'd love to screw him thirty ways from Sunday, but as of right now, I'm just a friend. Even though I could really show him what a real woman is." Like a giddy school girl, Violet continues, "Wait till you see him sis, he was hot in school, but now he's like a damn walking orgasm." "I've missed your sense of humor," I burst into tears from laughter. "You're killing me Smalls." "Damn, really Kayla? I miss my carefree friend," she adds. "So you know if Wyatt's a walking orgasm...his twin is sure to follow. I think you may be surprised. Garrett, may want to see you or talk to you." "Yeah well I'm not a home wrecker. I may be a lot of things, but home wrecker isn't one of them." "Kay, you used to not care. We were all friends when we were younger. What's happened to you?" "Life happened, love. I will not be that woman who ruined a happy home." "Touché, I understand where you are coming from. It's not fun to be the other woman, believe me I have been her and well, it sucks balls. I was told he was leaving his wife, and his family for me, and one weekend I saw him with her. I knew I was being played for a fool." My best friend clears her throat before saying, "but that is a story for another time when there is a lot of red wine involved." "I'm sorry Vi, do I know him?" I ask. "No, he's someone I worked with, no one special," she grumbles. "Should I ask how Millie and Seth are doing?" Her voice hesitates when she speaks their names. "I know how you feel about them, but they are the only family you have. Though you have never been silent about your feelings for them." "I don't want to talk about them, Vi," I bluntly say and change the subject again. "Let's make plans to meet sooner than later. I've been without my best friend for long enough." "Hey now, I'm not the one who left remember? I have been in the same city, so all you had to do was call my parents and they would have given you my digits." Abrupt and hurt by the tone of her voice, she goes on, "I do expect an explanation, Ashby. You can't just leave and expect me to be okay with it. I felt that you did a Mexican hat dance with my heart." "Yeah, I know, I did, but I'm back now and I intend to make up for lost time. You name the time and the place and I'll be there with bells on." "Done. We need to get together tomorrow and have your famous homemade lasagna with Mr. Fine Ass Walking Orgasm on his boat." Omg, is Vi getting off on his image right now... "Boat, Vi?" I questioned. "Yes, darling, a boat," she answers. "He took up fishing in order relieve his stress." "So, your bony ass needs to get to the pier by five tomorrow for an evening cruise and homemade lasagna." She snickers. "We missed you and your food." "I know we have a lot to catch up on. I do have a spare room, so feel free to bring some stuff to put in there. I love you and miss your face," the smile disappears as a lump in my throat catches my tongue, I stutter, "I'm so glad that you got in touch with me." "I love you too. I miss my sista' from another mista'. I always knew you would come back, I had faith." She utters and sniffles. We both say our goodbyes and end our calls. I stare at the rising sun out my office window as the red and yellow rays shine on my skin and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in. Thank you Lord for keeping her safe in my absence.
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Broken Love And Forever Bound Is On Sale Now
Romancehttp://lm.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fgoo.gl%2Ftwqqm2&h=pAQHplZTf
