Page 140 of Fracture
“I know, right.” Zee sighs, gazing at us all contentedly. “Look at us, who would have thought we’d all finally leave Bellford?”
“Yeah, crazy thought.” Levi kisses the top of my head. “I think it’s about time, though.”
“And everything else, that’s been OK?” Zee asks gently.
I sigh heavily and shrug, shuffling my foot against the wooden planks of the porch. “Well, it’s been a little wild, I guess. One of the supreme court judges, he, uh, well you probably heard they found him hanging in his garage.”
Levi tenses beside me, and Dylan moves to my other side to take my hand.
“I did hear about that last night.” Zee shifts on their feet. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, it’s alright. It’s happening, right?” I puff out a breath and squeeze Dylan’s hand.
“Are they going to make you fly back for the court case?”
I shake my head and meet Zee’s eyes with a smile. “No, they said due to the nature of the crimes, I don’t need to appear. I submit my victim impact statements and that’s it. No more.”
“Good, that’s good.” Zee exhales heavily, and returns my smile. “I heard Lily and Jared got engaged.”
Dylan laughs cynically. “Match made in heaven there.” He and Levi grin at each other over my head. “Can’t wait for that wedding.”
“I doubt we’ll be invited,” I tell him, swatting them both in the stomach. “It’s not like they talk to me anymore anyway.” The mood becomes heavy again, because we all know my family stopped talking to me only because my mother died just before Christmas. Now that connection is gone, I’m not a part of it anymore. I’m not a part of anything anymore. “It’s fine, I don’t care anyway.”
Everyone is silent, unsure of what to say, and mercifully at that moment, the truck pulls up and Zee remembers they’d brought us all coffee. We sit on the porch together, watching the movers pack our lives up in the big blue and white truck, and reminisce on the times we had in this town.
It wasn’t all bad, I guess. Good things happened here, too. But my mom’s death was the final straw, coming in amongst all the TV reports and interviews, since my interview with Mallory aired five months ago.
Dylan and Levi were furious when it happened. Not with me, but with themselves, I think. They slunk around, guilty and raging, for weeks, jumping at every shadow, convinced someone was going to leap out of the darkness and take me from them.
It’s not like the thought didn’t cross my mind, too. Too many times, I’d check my rear view mirror, convinced the car behind me had been following me for too long. I had trouble sleeping some nights. I was afraid of showering when the house was empty, because I wouldn’t hear anyone approaching. And then awful self-doubt began to take over, making me wonder it maybe I’d made a mistake.
But then the letters started pouring in. Endless letters, bags of them, filled channel four’s studio. One victim after another, coming forward, some of them now well into their 40s or 50s.Detailing the abuse the men who’d abused me, who’d been powerful and connected enough not to be afraid, had subjected them to.
All my fears of not being believed, my self-doubt, dissipated. I’d finally spoken out, and had given these other people the strength to speak out, too. The uproar was huge. Senators had to resign, judges stepped back. Some denied it all, and were ridiculed on social media. Others, like the Supreme Court judge, took themselves out, consumed by guilt or the fear of consequences.
Mallory was relentless, hunting down every lead and confirming stories, working tirelessly to do exactly what she had promised to do - give the victims a voice.
Finally, my fears gave way to something else. Pride.
My mother had tearfully begged me for forgiveness, admitting she’d known everything. When I didn’t give it to her, she drank herself into a coma, and her heart gave out. I’d felt a terrible combination of relief and guilt, and Christmas was a hard time.
But Dylan and Levi were there for me every step of the way, loving me and talking me through it all, unwavering in their support. They told me constantly how strong I was, how brave, and how proud they were of me.
And then, right after Christmas, I surprised them by buying a house in Boston, a gorgeous old place in Beacon Hill. I was done with Bellford Heights. I was ready for a fresh start, and they were, too.
They signed the garage over to Eric, rewarding him for his testimony against Michael Gray. The police had discovered that Gray had broken into Eric’s house and stolen one of his weapons to try and link the murders of Stanley Iverson and Craig Ellis to Dylan and Levi. Yet another part of his despicable plan.
The truth remained unspoken between us, and Dylan still had no idea that Flea (whose name was actually Bentley) had given me the list. It was one of those things that he just didn’t need to know. Just another thing I wanted to leave buried here, in our hometown, and forget about.
“Hey.” Dylan’s voice and smiling face tear me from my thoughts, and he reaches over to stroke a finger under my chin. “You zoned out there for a second.”
I smile and shrug, taking a sip of my latte. “I’m fine, just thinking about all the things to buy to fill that huge house with.”
“It is huge,” Levi says with a laugh, stretching his legs out in front of him. He meets my gaze and winks. “Our girl likes ‘em big.”
Zee bursts out laughing and throws a napkin at him. “Yeah OK, TMI, bitch!”
Levi’s beautiful face is almost bursting from smiling, and I don’t even see the scar anymore. It’s angry and gnarled, stretching from under his eye, up his forehead and into his hairline. His right eye is lighter than his left now, his vision still poor, but it doesn’t bother him, and it sure as fuck doesn’t bother me and Dylan.