I want to murder that piece of filth. I want to rip him limb from limb.
“I managed to keep away from him,” Isabelle continues. “I would get up early, and sleep in the bed with Crystal, and stay out of his way. But one day, I was home from school, sick. I had a fever, and there was nobody else around. I was sleeping, and when I woke up… he was on top of me,” her voice breaks, “trying to get under the covers.”
I focus on staying calm. Isabelle needs me to listen right now, not rage against the filthy bastard who dared abuse her. “It’s OK,” I soothe her again.
Isabelle angrily wipes away her tears. “I tried to fight him, but he was so much bigger than me. But he was drunk, and sloppy, and I managed to get away. He chased me through the house, and I guess he tripped and hit his head. He passed out on the floor, bleeding. I didn’t… I didn’t stay to help. I just ran, as fast as I could, back to school, and pretended I’d been there the whole day. But when I got home again…”
She stops, her eyes turning wretched. “I must have knocked over an ashtray when I ran, but I didn’t stop. The whole place burned to the ground. He died in the fire, Cam. He died, and I left him to burn!”
“No, you didn’t,” I insist, hugging her to me. “You didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“But I did.” Isabelle blinks at me. “He was laying there, bleeding all over the floor. I could have helped him, I could have called someone or gone to a neighbor. But I didn’t. I stood over his body, and hoped he’d never wake up. And I got my wish!”
I grip her shoulders tightly. “Don’t say that, Isabelle. You were just a scared kid, you weren’t responsible for what happened, do you hear me? You were defending yourself, that’s all. Nobody could blame you for it.”
Her face twists. “Brent did. When I told him, we were teenagers. He said that I murdered Clayton, and if anyone found out, I would go to prison for the rest of my life. I can’t take the guilt,” she sobs, “I’m so, so sorry.”
I swallow back the rage. How could Brent do this to her? She’s been through so much. But now I see the terrible weight she’s been carrying, believing all these years she was responsible for this man’s death.
That she was bad and rotten, and could be sent to jail at any moment.
“Look at me, Isabelle,” I command.
She’s still crying desperate sobs, so I tilt her chin up towards me and stare reassuringly into her eyes. “You’re safe now, I promise. The past is gone, it’s all over. You did nothing wrong, I swear. You did whatever it took to survive, but I don’t believe for a second you killed him. You’re a good person, it’s in your bones. He was the bad one, he preyed on you, and tried to hurt you. And he got what he deserved.”
Isabelle’s eyes seem to brighten. “You… you don’t hate me?” she asks in a whisper.
Is that what she’s been thinking? That if I discovered her secret, I would walk away? No wonder she’s kept her distance, always holding back, trying to keep control.
“No. I could never hate you, my darling,” I swear. “Your secret is safe with me.”
I see the relief in her eyes. “I’ve been holding it in so long,” she takes a deep breath. “I thought I’d never be free from the secret.”
“You are now.” I kiss her softly, feeling her yield to me, totally trusting. “You’re free. The past can’t hurt you anymore.”
ELEVEN: ISABELLE
That night between us changes everything.
Before, I was holding back, scared to surrender to him for fear I would reveal my dark secret. No matter how much I wanted to obey him and submit, a part of me felt like I was on the edge of a tall cliff, too terrified to make the leap. Afraid that after he knew everything, he wouldn’t want me.
Now I’m falling, but it’s an amazing feeling. I know that Cam will catch me before I hit the ground.
Always, he’ll be there.
Now, we’re more in sync than ever before. We fall into a relaxed routine, waking up together every morning, and eating breakfast together before he goes to work. I changed my phone number and haven’t heard from Brent. And when I go out, the security guard Cam hired to stay near me in public makes me feel safe and protected. It’s been a week now, and I’ve loved the freedom of spending my days alone: sometimes I meet Olivia for lunch, but mostly I’ve been enjoying the city, visiting art galleries and museums, and planning more charity events.
I’ve been thinking I can do more than just the usual fundraising. When my father died, he left a lot of money to a charitable foundation in the family name. I never felt confident enough to talk to the board about our donations, but now I’m planning a meeting to discuss what we do with that money. I’d love to be able to start a program helping foster kids, or organizing volunteers and day trips for kids in group homes so that they can see the world outside the narrow confines of the system.