Closer to the Edge
Page 54

With an annoyed huff, I grab onto the handle and turn it, pushing the door open. Parker reaches around me and flips the switch right inside the room and a small lamp over by the window bathes the room in a soft glow.
The sight in front of me makes my heart speed up and a small sob flies out of my mouth. I take a step into the room, then another, walking blindly as my eyes cloud with fucking tears. I don’t know whether to keep going or turn and run as fast as I can.
Parker’s quiet voice behind me echoes in the room.
“Sometimes the truth is too much to handle. It’s easier to lock it behind closed doors and pretend like it never happened.”
I FEEL A hand on my arm, shaking me awake, and I swat it away. I just want to be left alone. I don’t know when I fell asleep and I don’t care. My eyes are puffy from crying and my throat hurts. I curl myself tighter into a ball and ignore the familiar voice calling my name.
“Come on, hon. Let’s get you up off the floor.”
I start to cry all over again when arms wrap around me and help me up. I look around the dark room, seeing Cole’s t-shirt flung over the end of the couch and his crutches leaning against the wall, and it makes me cry even harder. Every hateful word he said to me before he left echoes in my mind and I wrap my arms around my waist, bending over with the force of the pain flowing through me.
I feel a gentle hand rubbing circles on my back and I still, cringing away from the contact. The very notion that a member of the Vargas family would offer me comfort is laughable after they’ve done everything in their power to destroy me, but the sympathy I see reflected in those eyes gives me pause. Then I recall the handful of interactions we’ve had and the outright rage directed at me before it was quickly masked. My emotions are clouding my judgment and nothing makes sense anymore.
“Why are you here? I know you don’t really like me,” I sob.
I hear a chuckle and I stand, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “Maybe I’m here because I know what it’s like to be betrayed by the people you love. I’m not as crazy as everyone likes to think. There’s a reason for everything I’ve done.”
I just want to leave, to run as far away from this family as possible. They’ve ruined everything and there’s nothing they can do to make up for it now.
“Just tell me the truth,” I cry. “Who did it? You know who did this to me and Cole.”
Once upon a time, I thought this family would accept me. That fairytale died with my son.
“You two just weren’t right for each other. Why couldn’t you see that?”
I ignore the words, laced with malice, and move towards the door. I don’t want to be here anymore, surrounded by Cole’s things, in a house with someone who clearly hates me.
Has always hated me.
A hand clamps down on my arm, yanking me backwards. I stumble and my moment of weakness is used against me, strong arms coming up to wrap around me and hold me in place.
“You and I are going for a little drive. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
The fake cheer in that voice covers up the anger and I struggle to get away.
“I am not going anywhere with you!” I shout, managing to free myself as I lunge for the door.
“Oh, no you don’t!” I hear followed by an eerie, sinister laugh.
My hand wraps around the handle just as something hard slams into the back of my head. Everything around me goes black as my body crumbles and I see the floor rushing towards my face.
“WHAT THE FUCK is going on?” I whisper, staring around the room.
My eyes focus on the crib in front of me, made up with blue, white and green bedding with monkeys on it. A blue blanket neatly covers the sheet, folded down at the top as if it’s just waiting for someone to curl up underneath it.
Why the hell would she buy all of these things and set up a room for a baby that was never going to sleep here? A baby that was only in existence for seven weeks?
“Not seven weeks, seven months.”
My head whips around to stare at Parker and I realize I said those words out loud.
“What… what the hell are you talking about?” I stutter, my heart just about ready to explode out of my chest.
Instead of answering me, Parker walks over to the small table next to the bed and opens a drawer, pulling out a photo album. She walks back over to me, holding the album out in front of her.
All the anger from earlier is gone. Her eyes are soft and filling with tears. She nods at me, and pushes the album closer. “Take it.”
I swallow thickly, reaching out and grabbing it. I look away from her as I flip open the first page, a grainy black and white photo stuck behind the see-thru page. I feel Parker move next to me as she looks over my shoulder.
“That’s the day she had the pregnancy confirmed. See, right at the top.”
She points to the computer printed numbers in the white border that reads: Olivia Lafierre, 6w3d.
“There’s not really much to see in that picture but a tiny little bean,” she says, flipping to the next page.
The following picture is similar to the one before but the ‘bean’ is larger and you can actually make out features.
“See right there?” she asks, pointing to the middle of the black and white photo. “Those are the eyes and those right there are the teeny, tiny little hands.”
It sort of resembles an alien to me, but I can make out exactly what she’s pointing to. Hands, legs, feet—things that I shouldn’t be able to see on an ultrasound of a baby less than seven weeks old. There’s also a computer-generated arrow pointing between the legs.