Please Forgive Me

PROLOGUE

H OW DOES AN eighteen-year-old take care of oneself and a mute eight-year-old brother while trying to make sure a heavily intoxicated so-called father doesn’t end up killing anyone that I love?

That plays every day in my head the moment Nathan was born. Crying and feeling sorry for myself is never an option when loved ones are involved. Freedom for Mom, Nathan, and me from this hellhole is the main concern. One would kick themselves if one was more intelligent to be nice, could be the hero in this horror flick. Then again, this is not a scary movie where you cuddle up to the next person for comfort—that the end will soon come and happiness is in arm’s reach. This is reality.

Not one money-hungry neighbor knows what happens when these doors close or the party ends. If they did by some miracle know, they just push it aside because of how our lifestyle looks, which one can’t complain. We have the necessities: roof over our heads, food in our tummies, and an education. However, once the glitter and glam of all of it subsides, the jail-cell feeling encloses, and locks become a reality for all. The feeling of never getting away from the cold, the scars, and the loneliness keep the lock unbreakable. No matter how much mentality of running in to it acquiring scars, broken bones, and bruises in hopes that the light will shine and walk out with that the fresh breath of air. Regrettably, nothing works. The warden, in the end, gets his victory; and all the cell mates have nothing to do but sit there, looking out the windows, dead inside and out.

This life we are living never used to be how it is now. Before, Dad and Mom had the son they’ve always wanted, and I was the only child. There was love. There was so much of it that I could dance in it, share it with the world, and have more than enough left for us. Three hundred and sixty-five days of love, the family and fun seemed like a never-ending cycle, and my parents trying for a baby brother for me seemed unbelievable. It could make a person die over and over to think the heavens above could play such a wicked game on someone. Maybe it wasn’t the God I loved day in and out who did this, and it was actually Dad’s own stupidity; but whichever, it hurts like hell now every second of every day. Who knows of a piece of someone called a soul?

So you can get a better idea of who my dad actually is, he was a professional baseball pitcher. He was the top of his team actually and had been with the same team since he was a rookie. This is when our lives were the bundle of love and when nobody knew of the sorrow and violence unless it was reported on the news. Well, after years and years of dedication to his team and fans, his coach didn’t sign him again. I guess Daddy wasn’t good at being a free agent because not more than a month from the news, Mom’s husband and our dad became our warden. He did not even give the Yankees a chance to sign him the month after. He turned to the bottle and pills for comfort and pleasure instead of Mommy for pleasure and the family for comfort.

The day I started calling Dad warden in my mind and heart was the day I started taking hits for Mom and Bubba so they wouldn’t be hurt. Like that worked, though, because Mom still got black eyes and bruises behind their bedroom walls, and Nathan saw all the violence around. I’ve concluded he didn’t talk because of all this happening. Thinking he’s got the world fooled into believing he’s a freaking saint is a joke in itself and cuts like a dagger to the soul. Maybe that’s why we don’t have one. Front and center, for all to see, he’s the husband and father we would love to have come back to us. Even the older fans still come up and ask for autographs and pictures. Even though we’re dying inside to scream for help, we feel the invisible cold hard metal of a gun jabbed in our backs to keep hushed up.

For so much longer than three years, we’ve been lying about our feelings not just to everyone but to ourselves too. It now comes naturally to be invisible to the rest of the world. Even the questions from the female gym counselor about the bruised ribs stopped coming because she thought I was just probably clumsy. I even kept the only person outside the jail from knowing the truth. We were trusting in the lie we live.

Sitting beside him on this sunny beautiful day, I’m going to say the temperature is about seventy-five with a nice breeze. As it whips through my long brown hair, I am trying to absorb as much of this before school is over so maybe Nat can have some too. Maybe when the cell door slams shut for the night, there can be some hope for a better future, and we can live in peace. This huge old oak tree hides my features in the shade because if it doesn’t, Emery would have looked over to ask what’s wrong.

How do you tell this friend that one doesn’t believe deep down inside that he or she could make it to see the biggest day in school: graduation?

CHAPTER ONE

TEN YEARS LATER

F ROM THE MOMENT we’re born, there’s always that one question that keeps nagging in the back of all our minds: is this our destiny?

I might not be the brightest crayon in the box as people say, but at least once or more in someone’s life, they ask this question to themselves. It’s like when I was a convenience clerk and saw men and women alike bringing handful of pennies in for another can of beer or for a pack of cigarettes. It’s times like these that I got myself asking, Is that it for them? or Did they see themselves like this when they were in high school?

It’s been ten years since the horrific past my brother and I had to endure, and I had my fair share of experiences in different jobs. But I often doze off at the thought of Is this it for me? I know I’m no model, but is there more to the journey than working for a cheating, shitty boss? Or never feeling the warmth of a man’s hands, or am I just stuck with the feeling of the cold back hand from growing up?

Ms. Valentine? Ms. Valentine? a confused customer asked.

I quickly snapped back into reality of being at work. Oh, I’m terribly sorry. What can I help you with today, ma’am? I asked a nice middle-aged woman with a nice pair of jeans on and a nice purple button-up blouse to complete the look.

Giving a little giggle, she replied, It’s not a problem. I just have an interview.

I gave her a smile and asked, What’s your name, ma’am?

Vivian Rose, she replied.

I punched in an extension on the phone and put on my headset. Ah yes, sir, I have a Ms. Vivian Rose here for an interview with you.

There was a slight pause on the line, and then he replied in a deep tone, Thank you. Send in Ms. Rose.

I let her know she’s needed now and can head back. She just gave a toss of her shoulder-length blonde locks and headed back.

Good riddance I say!

When there’s nobody to assist, I take a moment to put myself back together for the moment at least and check my sanity perhaps. I pushed the chair back and checked myself to make sure that I wasn’t anywhere else.

Yep, this is no dream I am at work, I sadly said. It isn’t a dream job by any means but pays the bills. I work for a group of legal as their secretary or what else they need me for. It’s a nice building—can’t complain about that. There are huge turning glass doors that lead you into the main waiting area that’s covered in black granite flooring. The desk area is about ten feet. I sit behind it with my co-worker, and it’s also black granite. So I guess one could say this is an expensive two-story building, even though we never see the upstairs.

Hey, good-looking, said my pal and co-worker Caution or Cat for short.

While looking at some documents that needed to be scanned and filed away, I said hey back.

All I get is a shitty-ass hey after I just said you’re hot? she said with hands on her hips.

Sorry, Cat, just a ton of shit that needs to be done for Mr. Donovan today.

So what does that shit brick want done today?

Same as always girl, sadly.

Ah, so his job so he can sit on his fat ass and do nothing and get paid shit tons more than us?

Now that got me to giggle. Sounds about right.

I love how Cat is the other half I wish I would be. She’s the funny, outgoing, and sexy one while I’m strict with rules, quiet, and comfortable in tennis shoes and a pair of jeans and T-shirt. So how she ever came up with the conclusion that I could ever be remotely hot in any way, it’s still a mystery to this day.

Lunchtime came by at a decent speed, even though we really don’t get a lunch hour. The Legal Brothers let us eat when we know we really won’t have any clients coming in for a visit. So we just take shifts microwaving and eating. It’s a nice system we have worked out.

So, girl, you want to come out with me tonight and have a good time?

Hold the phone, as she would put it. A good time to Caution is drinking, dancing, and partying with men—all things I have never done in my life and probably won’t ever do either. The only man I’ve ever been close to growing up was Emery, and that had an epic fail ending.

A noodle fell right out of my mouth. You do know I don’t do that stuff, right?

Hell, girl, I know, but it doesn’t hurt to ask since we’ve been friends since forever.

I just gave a smile and shook my head at her.

Yeah, just keep shacking that pretty head of yours, girl. One of these days, I’m going to get you in a pair of fuck-me-any-which-way heels and get you on the dance floor.

With my mouth hanging open from complete shock, she left to go heat up her food before I could get another word in edgewise. If Cat was going for shock factor, she achieved it.

The rest of the day went by as usual: answering calls, filing, copying, and running errands for the mystery bosses. Even if I tried to say my side of the deal and cover for my embarrassment, there was never a good time since I was always doing something.

Even though it wasn’t said, she knew it got to me with that little side smile she gave every time I looked her way—bitch in a friendly way.

Since Cat didn’t want the responsibility of having the building keys and codes to lock up, I get the pleasure of staying till everybody leaves first. As I was shutting off the lights and gathering up my things, guess who finally came down?

Yes, you’ve guessed correctly, Ms. Vivian Rose. Or whore as I like to call her.

She just strutted out the door as I said Have a good night and turned with an overexaggerated hair flip.

You too, Ms. Valentine.

I don’t know what job was posted for hiring her, but I’m going to guess she got the head assistant for the bosses.

Then out the corner of my eye, a black shadow went out the door without a word. Probably Mr. Donovan, but he could at least pull the stick out of his ass and say good night to us when he leaves.

I just sighed and locked the doors and set the alarm. I need to get home to my baby.

The drive home is the one thing I look forward to every night around five. Granted, living in the country and working in the city has both ups and downs, but it’s totally worth it in the end. To have clear blue skies in the day and star-filled nights in the evening makes it all the better. Living in the big city has nothing on the view and living space as the wide open country.

The three bedrooms, one-and-a-half bath, huge kitchen, basement, and fenced yard were definitely worth every penny saved. Granted, this house has been vacant since the last family left ten years ago. So one could only imagine how overgrown the grass and weeds were. Or when you actually managed to cut your way through the forest to the house the much-needed renovations that needed to take place. One could only guess on the bargain price just to take it off the bank’s hands.

I couldn’t blame them one bit into wanting this house gone from their listings, because since it’s been on the market, not one look or curiosity was brought up. Who in their right mind, though, would buy a house that almost a whole family was murdered in? I guess that’s why I was ecstatic that nobody else put an offer up. This house is the only thing I have left of my family. Everything else is gone.

Granted, it took since my little brother was born for everything I loved to be ripped from underneath my feet, causing me to fall down, down, down deep into unbearable darkness and icy-cold conditions. I never thought I would be able to see the beautiful warmth of sunlight again, but miracles happen when someone least expects them to. Neighbors can whisper, stare, and talk around town all they like because they don’t know or understand half of it.

Driving up the driveway and seeing the glow of light coming from the kitchen window put a smile on my face. Coming into the house from the garage, seeing her big brown eyes looking at me, and welcoming Mommy home, warm my heart in an instant. So as one could guess, my baby isn’t an actual baby but my bearded dragon lizard, one of the most important reasons I’m sane today. Hope’s home is on a handmade wooden stand by the bay window in the bedroom, where she has first-class access to the warm heat radiating from the sun on a summer’s day. She’s not only someone I entrust with the good and bad days; she also keeps away the bad dreams at night. If I could sleep with her in bed, I would, but I don’t think getting hit with spikes would be good.

Hey, babe girl, I said. Even though her responses are to some just looking back at me, to me it’s more of looking deep into my soul and clearing all the bad from my day, and lifting all the pain away so one can relax. All it takes is one look, and everything is good again. Have a good night. Momma loves you. With that,