Scotty
After I had my talk with Mr. Lucas, I felt better about my situation. I knew that I didn't have to put up with it, and that I wasn't going to have to spend years being raped several times a night by him. I wasn't exactly ready to die, but I knew no way out. Nobody was going to come for me, and Mr. Lucas already told me that he was going to literally chain me to the bed, once my leg healed, to keep me from running.
Of course, I did wonder what would happen when Mr. Lucas had to go back to work. But, he explained that he could do his work from the island. He didn't necessarily have to meet clients face to face, as he Skyped them, and he was able to manage his hedge funds from any remote location.
"But you make a good point, Scotty. I can't stay on this island forever. I'll bring you back with me to New York, but, I'm sorry Princess, I'm going to have to chain you when we get back to the city. I can't have you running away from me the way that you did before."
Once he said that, I knew that my plan had to go through. I remember reading stories of women who were captives of depraved men, and they were captives for years and years. They bore children and had to put up with years of sexual and physical abuse. That would be my lot, because I really didn't think that anybody would come and save me.
I had regressed, completely, to the child that I was all those years ago. The helpless child who only wanted love and stability, and thought that she had found it with Elle and Mr. Lucas. The child who, at first, thought that Mr. Lucas was showing his affection and love by his molesting, because that was what he had said. He told me that he was only showing his love for me, and that it was a normal thing for daddies to do that to their daughters. I knew better. I was thirteen, after all, so I, of course, had been through the whole "good touch bad touch" instructions at my schools. But yet, I was almost brainwashed into thinking that Paul really was just showing me his love.
At any rate, I was helpless then. I was tiny and he overpowered me completely. And there was a part of me that craved love so much that I almost believed that what he was doing to me wasn't wrong. I don't really know when it was that I finally had had enough, which was when I ran away. I don't really remember what the turning point was.
But, at that time, I was free to leave. I wasn't injured, like I was now, and Mr. Lucas didn't chain me to the bed, like he was threatening to do now. I was older now, and definitely a bit wiser, but I was still very small, and my crippling injury made me more vulnerable than ever. So, in a way, I was even more helpless than when I was only 13.
I felt sad, though, thinking about my life. Thinking about how I thought that I had come through all my traumas and that I was actually going to make something of myself. About how accomplished I felt in getting into an Ivy League school for my Master's work, after going through City College for my Bachelor's degree. I thought that nothing could stop me. I felt strong and invincible and like I had the whole world by the tail.
I was full of hubris, like a Greek warrior, and, like in those ancient Greek tales, it was only a matter of time before I would get smacked down. Which was exactly what happened, of course. I was smacked down, hard.
The other sad thing was that I had genuinely loved life. I used to have long talks with Jack, where we contemplated what would happen after we died. I always told him that I hoped that I would be reincarnated, because I wanted to literally live forever. That was how I felt - that life was good and life was fun, because I had a basis for comparison. I had lived life in hell, so every day that I was living away from Mr. Lucas was a gift. It was another day that I lived on earth, as opposed to hell.
And then, when Nick entered the picture…I felt like I was on the very pinnacle. That nothing at all could be better. That nobody had a better life than me. Nobody possibly could have a better life, because I not only had the most wonderful man in the world in love with me, but I had everything else as well. A good career ahead of me, filled with work that I loved, and, hopefully, a family with Nick one day.
And now, all I could think of was how it was that I was going to die. I finally figured out that I would "accidentally" drown in Mr. Lucas' enormous bathtub. That would be easy to do, considering my injury. I only hoped that it would look convincingly enough like an accident, so that Mr. Lucas didn't get suspicious about the true nature of my death.
So, when Mr. Lucas came in to show me the papers that he had drawn up, in which he constructed a trust for my mother that would entitle her to $3 million dollars, and told me that I had to keep up my end of the bargain if I wanted the trust to be enacted, I said "sure. When are we going to do this?"
"It's already been arranged."
That night, however, he once again got into one of his darker moods that I had grown to know so well. He seemed to spiral into darkness more often than not, and his lighter side that he had been in for the past day or so was replaced by his sadistic and cruel side.
"So, Scotty, are you excited to become my bride?"
I didn't say anything at all for a few minutes. So, he became agitated. "Answer me, you stupid little cunt. I asked you a question."
"Yes," I said, "I'm very excited to become your bride."
"Liar. You're a goddamned liar." And then he smacked me, hard, against my face. "You don't love me like I love you. You never have. You're just a worthless little cunt." He was pacing the floor, back and forth, back and forth. "I've given all this money to your mother, and you just don't appreciate it. Well, I'll make you appreciate it. I'll make you fucking appreciate it."
At that, he punched me, hard, in my upper right arm, and he kicked me in my bad leg. The pain was white-hot, intense, and shooting throughout my body. I cried out, and he calmed down again. "There, that's what I wanted to hear. I love the sounds of your pain."
Then he carried me into the bed and laid me down. He hummed softly. "Tomorrow, you will be my wife. You will be my possession. And life will be complete."
He stripped off my clothes and his and entered me savagely. My leg was still throbbing from him kicking me, so I tried to concentrate on that pain instead of the pain of him thrusting himself hard into me, over and over again.
I finally just relaxed with the thought that the torment would all be over soon.
Saving Scotty by Annie Jocoby - Romance Novel
Re: Saving Scotty by Annie Jocoby
Nick
We landed at the main airport in St. Croix, and disembarked. It had been the longest 36 or so hours of my life. Actually, I had lost count of the number of hours that I had spent in my desperate search for the woman that I loved more than anything in the world.
Ryan arranged for us to get a Rolls Royce to drive, and we got in. We had already talked about a tentative plan that we had to find Mr. Lucas, and it involved the two of us going to the country clubs and yacht clubs on Cane Bay and asking around. Since this was a playground for the rich, there were quite a few places where we could start.
We had already tried the obvious, of course. We googled Paul Lucas to see if there was anything on him that would indicate where he might be staying there on the island. That bore little fruit, however, as we suspected it wouldn't.
Ryan sighed. "You know, I never thought that I would be wishing that my old man was alive. But, this is one time that I do. Benjamin had a way to find anybody, anywhere in the world. I don't have the same connections."
We did, however, find that some of our Harvard buddies had homes on the island. We put in a phone call to all of them, but they had not yet called us back. But we couldn't wait around, of course. Time was precious.
So, we got a room at a pricey resort and changed our clothes. I was anxious, as I was the entire time that Scotty had been missing, and I wanted to get at it. Quickly. Ryan, of course, was attempting to slow me down and be the voice of reason.
"Now, come on, Nick, we can't just go at this like bulls in China shops. First things first. There's a cocktail party at the Carambola Golf and Country Club. That would be an excellent place to start mingling and asking around the upper crust here on the island. No doubt at least one person at that club tonight will know Paul and will know where he lives."
"But how are we going to get that information? We can't just say 'hey, do you know pervert Paul Lucas? Where does he live?'"
He raised one of his eyebrows. "Have you not learned anything about finesse? Look at how I played Elle. That's how you get people to talk. You find common ground with them, you show interest in them and what they're passionate about, and then you meander the conversation to the information that you are trying to get from them. Works like a charm every time."
I nodded my head, relieved, once again, that I had a guy like Ryan on my team. All of my life, I was blunt. Sarcastic. To the point. I never learned how to schmooze anybody, mainly because I didn't care. I always got what I wanted, no matter what, so I never had to learn the fine art of seduction. Not literal seduction, but seducing people to the point where they will give you what you want.
Ryan was a master at that, so I was very grateful that he was there with me.
"Okay, now," Ryan said. "Here is how we approach this. Now, you know that Paul went to Yale. That means that you and I went to Yale as well. That will give us a way to pursue information about him. We heard that he has a house on the island, and we want to catch up with him. He was a Sigma Chi there at Yale, but we can't really say that we were fraternity brothers. There might be other Sigma Chis at the party who will know that we're frauds. So, we just know him from some of his classes."
"Of course. I was thinking about all of this myself. Paul was a psych major, which is something that you know something about, because that was what you were pursuing as a minor. I, of course, know nothing about psychology except for what I read in some of my electives. So, you would be the one who knows him well, because you guys had some psych courses together. But what are we going to do if they start talking about the instructors and all of that?"
"I'm on it. I need to do some research on who was there during the time that Paul was. I can fake my way through most situations. Don't forget, I've learned how to fake my way through much of my life. When you're a drug addict, pretending to be somebody else comes second nature. So, let me take the lead on this, too."
I took a deep breath.
I honestly had no idea what I would do without this guy.
∞
So, that night, we pulled up to the Carambola Golf and Country Club, which was a club that was designed by one of the Rockefellers and was the centerpiece of a luxurious resort area. This was a cocktail party, but the people who were at the party were dressed in their golf clothes. Ryan and I pulled up in our rented Rolls Royce. We were wearing golf shirts and long pants. I felt slightly silly, as I was never a golfer myself. Ryan had been known to play a few rounds, but it wasn't generally something that he got into either.
I felt that we had two strikes against us, walking in. One, we didn't really go to Yale. Two, we really weren't golfers. Thank god I had Ryan, who had practice being a chameleon. That was one thing that I never was. What you saw was what you got with me.
Ryan and I got some scotch and had a seat on a leather sofa. I was nervous, and so anxious about finding Scotty. She was so close, I could feel it.
People started to pour in. Men and women. Ryan's first instinct was to approach one of the women who seemed to be unattached, on the assumption that women would be more likely to want to talk to us and get to know us. For obvious reasons.
It wasn't long before at least a few of the women were turning around and eyeing us. They would look in our direction, and then hurriedly look away when we caught their eye. Then they would look again and smile and blush.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan approached one of the women. I hung back, hoping that I wouldn't have to engage in conversation with a stranger. I was in zero mood to be sociable. I had to get out of my head first.
So, when a beautiful dark-headed woman sat down next to me, I had to muster all the old Nick charm that I had left, in order to talk to her.
"Hello, my name is Trina," she said, extending an elegant hand to me. She was dressed in a short tennis skirt and shoes, which showed off her perfectly toned legs well. She was tanned and blue-eyed, and appeared to be around 25.
I took her hand and kissed it gently. "Nick," I said. "Guess you've been playing tennis, huh?"
"Sure. Do you play?"
"Of course." Then I smiled and took another sip of my scotch. Inwardly, I was cursing the entire situation. Here was a beautiful woman, and I had to force myself to flirt with her. I had zero desire to do so. I had almost forgotten how.
But, mainly, I felt awful flirting with a woman, knowing that my Scotty was somewhere on that island, suffering, right at that very moment.
She eyed me. "I haven't seen you around here. Are you new?"
"Yes. My buddy Ryan and I just got in today. What about you?"
"Oh, I've been coming here for years. My parents own a place by the shore here. Then, when I turned 21, they bought me my own place." She sipped her wine. "Where are you from?"
"New York. You?"
"LA."
"Oh? What do you do?"
"Well, I'm a photographer. Perhaps you've seen some of my work," she said, as she reached into her purse for a business card.
I took it and read "Trina Blanchard. Photographer." The card had a black and white picture on it of a beach setting. I assumed that the picture was taken by her.
I thought that this was a pretty good opening for me to find out where she went to school. "So, how long have you been a photographer?"
"For years. I majored in photography at Yale."
God, have I been lucky so far. I felt like there was something unseen that was guiding me. Something wanted me to find Scotty. That was all there was to it.
"Yale. What a coincidence. That's where I went."
"Not such a coincidence. Almost everybody here went to Yale, Harvard, Brown or Columbia. So, you have a pretty good shot of talking to somebody who went to your school. And what about you? What do you do?"
"I'm an architect."
"An architect. How interesting! What do you design?"
"Major commercial buildings, mostly, but I do some residential." Then I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I hoped that she didn't recognize me from some of the publications that featured me. For that matter, I hoped the same about Ryan. Since his animal rights foundation, and sanctuary, was gaining steam, and he had been on the publicity circuit for it for several months, there was a decent chance that somebody in that room would know who he was.
And the jig would be up.
She nodded. "Well, it's good to see a new face around here." She sipped her wine and looked at me carefully. Then I saw her glance at my left hand. There not being a ring, nor a tan line, she smiled invitingly. "So, what do you do for fun?" she asked with a giggle and a flip of her hair. She bit her lip and raised one of her eyebrows while taking another sip of her drink.
"Tennis, golfing, sailing. I've actually been trying to find an old buddy of mine who stays here sometimes. Perhaps you know him?"
"Who would that be?"
"Paul Lucas." I looked her straight in the eye, and tried not to hold my breath while I waited for her answer.
"Hmmm…name sounds familiar." Then she shook her head. "But, no, I'm thinking of another Paul that I've met. His last name is Dreyser."
"Maybe it's the same guy. You know, maybe his last name changed for some reason. Going incognito or something." I was grasping at straws, and I knew it. "What does that guy look like?"
"Oh, around 60ish, balding. He'll probably be here a little bit later."
My heart sunk, but I didn't show it. All I could think was that this woman, as beautiful as she was, had outlived her usefulness, and I would have to find somebody else to chat up.
Just then, Ryan came back. He sat on the chair that was adjacent to the sofa that I was on. With him was a willowy blonde woman with the most amazing green eyes that I had ever seen. She sipped her cocktail while eyeing me interestedly.
"This is Eve," Ryan said. "She knows Paul."
We landed at the main airport in St. Croix, and disembarked. It had been the longest 36 or so hours of my life. Actually, I had lost count of the number of hours that I had spent in my desperate search for the woman that I loved more than anything in the world.
Ryan arranged for us to get a Rolls Royce to drive, and we got in. We had already talked about a tentative plan that we had to find Mr. Lucas, and it involved the two of us going to the country clubs and yacht clubs on Cane Bay and asking around. Since this was a playground for the rich, there were quite a few places where we could start.
We had already tried the obvious, of course. We googled Paul Lucas to see if there was anything on him that would indicate where he might be staying there on the island. That bore little fruit, however, as we suspected it wouldn't.
Ryan sighed. "You know, I never thought that I would be wishing that my old man was alive. But, this is one time that I do. Benjamin had a way to find anybody, anywhere in the world. I don't have the same connections."
We did, however, find that some of our Harvard buddies had homes on the island. We put in a phone call to all of them, but they had not yet called us back. But we couldn't wait around, of course. Time was precious.
So, we got a room at a pricey resort and changed our clothes. I was anxious, as I was the entire time that Scotty had been missing, and I wanted to get at it. Quickly. Ryan, of course, was attempting to slow me down and be the voice of reason.
"Now, come on, Nick, we can't just go at this like bulls in China shops. First things first. There's a cocktail party at the Carambola Golf and Country Club. That would be an excellent place to start mingling and asking around the upper crust here on the island. No doubt at least one person at that club tonight will know Paul and will know where he lives."
"But how are we going to get that information? We can't just say 'hey, do you know pervert Paul Lucas? Where does he live?'"
He raised one of his eyebrows. "Have you not learned anything about finesse? Look at how I played Elle. That's how you get people to talk. You find common ground with them, you show interest in them and what they're passionate about, and then you meander the conversation to the information that you are trying to get from them. Works like a charm every time."
I nodded my head, relieved, once again, that I had a guy like Ryan on my team. All of my life, I was blunt. Sarcastic. To the point. I never learned how to schmooze anybody, mainly because I didn't care. I always got what I wanted, no matter what, so I never had to learn the fine art of seduction. Not literal seduction, but seducing people to the point where they will give you what you want.
Ryan was a master at that, so I was very grateful that he was there with me.
"Okay, now," Ryan said. "Here is how we approach this. Now, you know that Paul went to Yale. That means that you and I went to Yale as well. That will give us a way to pursue information about him. We heard that he has a house on the island, and we want to catch up with him. He was a Sigma Chi there at Yale, but we can't really say that we were fraternity brothers. There might be other Sigma Chis at the party who will know that we're frauds. So, we just know him from some of his classes."
"Of course. I was thinking about all of this myself. Paul was a psych major, which is something that you know something about, because that was what you were pursuing as a minor. I, of course, know nothing about psychology except for what I read in some of my electives. So, you would be the one who knows him well, because you guys had some psych courses together. But what are we going to do if they start talking about the instructors and all of that?"
"I'm on it. I need to do some research on who was there during the time that Paul was. I can fake my way through most situations. Don't forget, I've learned how to fake my way through much of my life. When you're a drug addict, pretending to be somebody else comes second nature. So, let me take the lead on this, too."
I took a deep breath.
I honestly had no idea what I would do without this guy.
∞
So, that night, we pulled up to the Carambola Golf and Country Club, which was a club that was designed by one of the Rockefellers and was the centerpiece of a luxurious resort area. This was a cocktail party, but the people who were at the party were dressed in their golf clothes. Ryan and I pulled up in our rented Rolls Royce. We were wearing golf shirts and long pants. I felt slightly silly, as I was never a golfer myself. Ryan had been known to play a few rounds, but it wasn't generally something that he got into either.
I felt that we had two strikes against us, walking in. One, we didn't really go to Yale. Two, we really weren't golfers. Thank god I had Ryan, who had practice being a chameleon. That was one thing that I never was. What you saw was what you got with me.
Ryan and I got some scotch and had a seat on a leather sofa. I was nervous, and so anxious about finding Scotty. She was so close, I could feel it.
People started to pour in. Men and women. Ryan's first instinct was to approach one of the women who seemed to be unattached, on the assumption that women would be more likely to want to talk to us and get to know us. For obvious reasons.
It wasn't long before at least a few of the women were turning around and eyeing us. They would look in our direction, and then hurriedly look away when we caught their eye. Then they would look again and smile and blush.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan approached one of the women. I hung back, hoping that I wouldn't have to engage in conversation with a stranger. I was in zero mood to be sociable. I had to get out of my head first.
So, when a beautiful dark-headed woman sat down next to me, I had to muster all the old Nick charm that I had left, in order to talk to her.
"Hello, my name is Trina," she said, extending an elegant hand to me. She was dressed in a short tennis skirt and shoes, which showed off her perfectly toned legs well. She was tanned and blue-eyed, and appeared to be around 25.
I took her hand and kissed it gently. "Nick," I said. "Guess you've been playing tennis, huh?"
"Sure. Do you play?"
"Of course." Then I smiled and took another sip of my scotch. Inwardly, I was cursing the entire situation. Here was a beautiful woman, and I had to force myself to flirt with her. I had zero desire to do so. I had almost forgotten how.
But, mainly, I felt awful flirting with a woman, knowing that my Scotty was somewhere on that island, suffering, right at that very moment.
She eyed me. "I haven't seen you around here. Are you new?"
"Yes. My buddy Ryan and I just got in today. What about you?"
"Oh, I've been coming here for years. My parents own a place by the shore here. Then, when I turned 21, they bought me my own place." She sipped her wine. "Where are you from?"
"New York. You?"
"LA."
"Oh? What do you do?"
"Well, I'm a photographer. Perhaps you've seen some of my work," she said, as she reached into her purse for a business card.
I took it and read "Trina Blanchard. Photographer." The card had a black and white picture on it of a beach setting. I assumed that the picture was taken by her.
I thought that this was a pretty good opening for me to find out where she went to school. "So, how long have you been a photographer?"
"For years. I majored in photography at Yale."
God, have I been lucky so far. I felt like there was something unseen that was guiding me. Something wanted me to find Scotty. That was all there was to it.
"Yale. What a coincidence. That's where I went."
"Not such a coincidence. Almost everybody here went to Yale, Harvard, Brown or Columbia. So, you have a pretty good shot of talking to somebody who went to your school. And what about you? What do you do?"
"I'm an architect."
"An architect. How interesting! What do you design?"
"Major commercial buildings, mostly, but I do some residential." Then I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I hoped that she didn't recognize me from some of the publications that featured me. For that matter, I hoped the same about Ryan. Since his animal rights foundation, and sanctuary, was gaining steam, and he had been on the publicity circuit for it for several months, there was a decent chance that somebody in that room would know who he was.
And the jig would be up.
She nodded. "Well, it's good to see a new face around here." She sipped her wine and looked at me carefully. Then I saw her glance at my left hand. There not being a ring, nor a tan line, she smiled invitingly. "So, what do you do for fun?" she asked with a giggle and a flip of her hair. She bit her lip and raised one of her eyebrows while taking another sip of her drink.
"Tennis, golfing, sailing. I've actually been trying to find an old buddy of mine who stays here sometimes. Perhaps you know him?"
"Who would that be?"
"Paul Lucas." I looked her straight in the eye, and tried not to hold my breath while I waited for her answer.
"Hmmm…name sounds familiar." Then she shook her head. "But, no, I'm thinking of another Paul that I've met. His last name is Dreyser."
"Maybe it's the same guy. You know, maybe his last name changed for some reason. Going incognito or something." I was grasping at straws, and I knew it. "What does that guy look like?"
"Oh, around 60ish, balding. He'll probably be here a little bit later."
My heart sunk, but I didn't show it. All I could think was that this woman, as beautiful as she was, had outlived her usefulness, and I would have to find somebody else to chat up.
Just then, Ryan came back. He sat on the chair that was adjacent to the sofa that I was on. With him was a willowy blonde woman with the most amazing green eyes that I had ever seen. She sipped her cocktail while eyeing me interestedly.
"This is Eve," Ryan said. "She knows Paul."
Re: Saving Scotty by Annie Jocoby
Scotty
I had agreed to marry Mr. Lucas, and the event would be happening that evening. Him being exceedingly wealthy, he was able to amass quite a few people to the home to put up decorations for us. Of course, none of his acquaintances would be invited to this ceremony. There would be no way that he could possibly explain any of it.
I did consider the angle that the marriage possibly couldn't be legal, although I didn't necessarily know the laws of the island. After all, Mr. Lucas was still my legal guardian. He claimed that he never filed adoption papers for me, and I knew that he couldn't have adopted me without me being present for the proceedings. So, I was reasonably sure that he was not legally my father. The only reason why he was ever considered to be my "next of kin" was because he was the last legal guardian that I had before I ran away, and, since my mother's parental rights were severed, Mr. Lucas still had some kind of legal tie to me.
To tell the truth, I was still very hazy on all of that. I knew that my case had fallen through the cracks of the child protection agency, but it still surprised me that Mr. Lucas still had some kind of legal relationship with me.
At any rate, with Mr. Lucas still being considered my legal guardian, I didn't know how that would work, as far as us being married. But, then again, it didn't really matter. I was only doing this so that my mother would be taken care of, and, since the stipulation of the trust was that she complete inpatient treatment for six months or more, she might be able to get sober through my sacrifice. Aaron would be placed with an appropriate family while my mother was in treatment. The trust provided for that as well.
Mr. Lucas did bother to go to town to buy me a white dress and veil. The house was decorated with lilies and roses, and tea lights.
I looked towards the evening with dread and fear. But, I knew that what I was doing was right, under the circumstances. That was how very hopeless I felt at that point in time. At that point, my greatest wish was that I could be reincarnated, so that I could have a chance to start all over. Hopefully, in my next life, I would catch more of a break than I did in this one.
I got dressed with the help of Helen, the African maid that Mr. Lucas had employed. She was a stout woman who knew very little English, but she seemed very kind. She put makeup on me, and helped me into my dress. Then she beamed with pride after helping me get dressed and ready for the ceremony. "Beautiful," she said, with a clap of her hands. "Like a princess."
I groaned inwardly. The word "princess" would never sound the same to me, if there was, by some miracle, a way that I could get out of this situation. But, still, I smiled back at her and thanked her politely for helping me.
"Oh, yes, yes. You beautiful girl. Mr. Lucas a very lucky man."
I tried my hardest to smile back at her. She was so friendly and so helpful. I didn't want her to feel bad. So, I patted her hand and gave her a hug from my chair. "Thank you," I said.
And then, I sat down to write a letter to my mother and one to Jack. I hoped that my mother would be able to find somebody who could read my letter to her, because I really wanted her to know how I felt.
To my mother, I wrote:
Mommy,
I'm very sorry that things had to end this way for me. I wanted you to know that I never really blamed you for the life that you gave me. I know that you couldn't really help yourself. You apparently had your own demons in life, although you never actually told me what they were. At any rate, I know that you were sick, throughout my life, and I hope that you can have the strength to finally get well. I saw glimpses of how you could be, during times that you were able stay sober. Those times were few and far between, but they were some of the happiest times of my life. At any rate, please don't ever think that I hate you or that I am angry with you. I've come to terms, long ago, with your limitations, so I've long since made peace with them.
What happened with me was something that had to happen, in order for you to get the treatment that you so desperately need. You will be taken care of through a trust, as long as you stay sober. So, please, please, please complete the treatment that is the stipulation of the trust. Aaron needs you. You can be a beautiful person, if only you can find the strength to help yourself.
I wish you all the love and peace in the world.
Your loving daughter,
Scotty
Then, I sighed as I wrote out a letter to Jack.
Dear Jack,
You are no doubt wondering what happened to me. I need to clear it up, and tell you how much you meant to me. I broke my leg in New York City, and, somehow, Mr. Lucas was the one who showed up at the hospital. He managed to convince the hospital personnel that he, as my "legal guardian" was going to take me away to a private hospital. Of course, there was no private hospital. I was spirited to some island that is a 4 hour plane ride away from home, so I believe that I am somewhere in the Caribbean.
I don't want to go into what has happened to me since I got here. But, suffice to say, things have picked up where they left off. Which has left me feeling hopeless and alone.
So, please stop wondering about me. By the time you get this, I will have passed away. I had to do it, because I saw no way out of my situation.
I'm writing you this letter to give you closure, but also to tell you how much you have always meant to me. You literally saved my life. If you didn't find me in that car all those years ago, I don't know what would have become of me. I certainly wouldn't have been put on the path that I got on, as far as graduating from high school with honors and eventually getting into Columbia. So, I owe you a ton. And I love you like I would love a brother. You have been my family for the past ten years, and you've always been there for me, more than anybody ever has. We had such good times together, and I always imagined that we would have many more years of love and fun between us. So, I'm so sorry that things ended this way.
At any rate, I hope that you finally get that huge Broadway part that you always wanted, and that Wall Street type who will treat you like gold. Because you, of all people, deserve it.
All my love,
Scotty
I took a deep breath, as I thought about writing one more letter. To Nick.
And then I thought better of it. I didn't think that I could write a letter to him, pouring out my feelings, without experiencing the extreme hurt that I felt when I saw him with the witch. I didn't think that I could get through it without completely breaking down in tears.
I was still so angry with him. So, even though Nick was the one who I loved more than anybody in this world, I couldn't bring myself to write him a letter.
He didn't deserve it.
∞
So, that evening, I was wheeled into the magnificent backyard of the beautiful beach house that held me captive. Helen was behind me, beaming with pride, as she wheeled me in. I had given Helen the letters I wrote earlier that day.
"Helen," I said, giving her the letters. They were properly addressed and stamped. "Please take these to the post office the next time you go."
She nodded her head in understanding. She didn't know a lot of English, but she knew the meaning of letters and mail, because one of her duties was to send correspondence from Mr. Lucas to people on the mainland and back home.
"And, please don't tell Mr. Lucas about these letters."
She frowned, but seemed to understand that request as well.
"Thank you, Helen," I said, patting her hand.
I was wheeled to the altar that was created. Mr. Lucas had managed to find a minister on short notice. Mr. Lucas was dressed in a formal tuxedo, his salt and pepper hair slicked back on his head.
My stomach turned to see him, and I felt like throwing up, right then and there. What made things even worse was his face. He looked so…satisfied. Like he had won.
You haven't won. You will soon find out that I would literally rather die than spend another day with you.
So, I smiled, too. It was a genuine smile, because I knew what my plan was going to be.
The minister began his recital. This was going to be a long one, because, for some odd reason, Mr. Lucas wanted the ceremony to be religious. Which meant that there was going to be a long speech about God and all kinds of other stuff that Mr. Lucas couldn't possibly know the first thing about.
All I could think was that there wasn't a God. If there was, then I wouldn't be put through such hell. I didn't do one thing to deserve any of this, so I concluded that there was no mercy, therefore there was no God.
I sighed as the minister was droning on and on about love and God, and God's love. I was blocking him out, thinking only about how I was going to soon be put out of my misery.
And then, suddenly, there was a commotion. The butler, Javier, was rushing into the backyard. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Lucas, so sorry."
"What?" he asked. "I'm in the middle of something here. How dare you interrupt?"
"So sorry," Javier repeated. "But he forced his way in."
"Who? Who forced his way in?"
I turned my head.
There, running towards me at top speed, was Nick.
I had agreed to marry Mr. Lucas, and the event would be happening that evening. Him being exceedingly wealthy, he was able to amass quite a few people to the home to put up decorations for us. Of course, none of his acquaintances would be invited to this ceremony. There would be no way that he could possibly explain any of it.
I did consider the angle that the marriage possibly couldn't be legal, although I didn't necessarily know the laws of the island. After all, Mr. Lucas was still my legal guardian. He claimed that he never filed adoption papers for me, and I knew that he couldn't have adopted me without me being present for the proceedings. So, I was reasonably sure that he was not legally my father. The only reason why he was ever considered to be my "next of kin" was because he was the last legal guardian that I had before I ran away, and, since my mother's parental rights were severed, Mr. Lucas still had some kind of legal tie to me.
To tell the truth, I was still very hazy on all of that. I knew that my case had fallen through the cracks of the child protection agency, but it still surprised me that Mr. Lucas still had some kind of legal relationship with me.
At any rate, with Mr. Lucas still being considered my legal guardian, I didn't know how that would work, as far as us being married. But, then again, it didn't really matter. I was only doing this so that my mother would be taken care of, and, since the stipulation of the trust was that she complete inpatient treatment for six months or more, she might be able to get sober through my sacrifice. Aaron would be placed with an appropriate family while my mother was in treatment. The trust provided for that as well.
Mr. Lucas did bother to go to town to buy me a white dress and veil. The house was decorated with lilies and roses, and tea lights.
I looked towards the evening with dread and fear. But, I knew that what I was doing was right, under the circumstances. That was how very hopeless I felt at that point in time. At that point, my greatest wish was that I could be reincarnated, so that I could have a chance to start all over. Hopefully, in my next life, I would catch more of a break than I did in this one.
I got dressed with the help of Helen, the African maid that Mr. Lucas had employed. She was a stout woman who knew very little English, but she seemed very kind. She put makeup on me, and helped me into my dress. Then she beamed with pride after helping me get dressed and ready for the ceremony. "Beautiful," she said, with a clap of her hands. "Like a princess."
I groaned inwardly. The word "princess" would never sound the same to me, if there was, by some miracle, a way that I could get out of this situation. But, still, I smiled back at her and thanked her politely for helping me.
"Oh, yes, yes. You beautiful girl. Mr. Lucas a very lucky man."
I tried my hardest to smile back at her. She was so friendly and so helpful. I didn't want her to feel bad. So, I patted her hand and gave her a hug from my chair. "Thank you," I said.
And then, I sat down to write a letter to my mother and one to Jack. I hoped that my mother would be able to find somebody who could read my letter to her, because I really wanted her to know how I felt.
To my mother, I wrote:
Mommy,
I'm very sorry that things had to end this way for me. I wanted you to know that I never really blamed you for the life that you gave me. I know that you couldn't really help yourself. You apparently had your own demons in life, although you never actually told me what they were. At any rate, I know that you were sick, throughout my life, and I hope that you can have the strength to finally get well. I saw glimpses of how you could be, during times that you were able stay sober. Those times were few and far between, but they were some of the happiest times of my life. At any rate, please don't ever think that I hate you or that I am angry with you. I've come to terms, long ago, with your limitations, so I've long since made peace with them.
What happened with me was something that had to happen, in order for you to get the treatment that you so desperately need. You will be taken care of through a trust, as long as you stay sober. So, please, please, please complete the treatment that is the stipulation of the trust. Aaron needs you. You can be a beautiful person, if only you can find the strength to help yourself.
I wish you all the love and peace in the world.
Your loving daughter,
Scotty
Then, I sighed as I wrote out a letter to Jack.
Dear Jack,
You are no doubt wondering what happened to me. I need to clear it up, and tell you how much you meant to me. I broke my leg in New York City, and, somehow, Mr. Lucas was the one who showed up at the hospital. He managed to convince the hospital personnel that he, as my "legal guardian" was going to take me away to a private hospital. Of course, there was no private hospital. I was spirited to some island that is a 4 hour plane ride away from home, so I believe that I am somewhere in the Caribbean.
I don't want to go into what has happened to me since I got here. But, suffice to say, things have picked up where they left off. Which has left me feeling hopeless and alone.
So, please stop wondering about me. By the time you get this, I will have passed away. I had to do it, because I saw no way out of my situation.
I'm writing you this letter to give you closure, but also to tell you how much you have always meant to me. You literally saved my life. If you didn't find me in that car all those years ago, I don't know what would have become of me. I certainly wouldn't have been put on the path that I got on, as far as graduating from high school with honors and eventually getting into Columbia. So, I owe you a ton. And I love you like I would love a brother. You have been my family for the past ten years, and you've always been there for me, more than anybody ever has. We had such good times together, and I always imagined that we would have many more years of love and fun between us. So, I'm so sorry that things ended this way.
At any rate, I hope that you finally get that huge Broadway part that you always wanted, and that Wall Street type who will treat you like gold. Because you, of all people, deserve it.
All my love,
Scotty
I took a deep breath, as I thought about writing one more letter. To Nick.
And then I thought better of it. I didn't think that I could write a letter to him, pouring out my feelings, without experiencing the extreme hurt that I felt when I saw him with the witch. I didn't think that I could get through it without completely breaking down in tears.
I was still so angry with him. So, even though Nick was the one who I loved more than anybody in this world, I couldn't bring myself to write him a letter.
He didn't deserve it.
∞
So, that evening, I was wheeled into the magnificent backyard of the beautiful beach house that held me captive. Helen was behind me, beaming with pride, as she wheeled me in. I had given Helen the letters I wrote earlier that day.
"Helen," I said, giving her the letters. They were properly addressed and stamped. "Please take these to the post office the next time you go."
She nodded her head in understanding. She didn't know a lot of English, but she knew the meaning of letters and mail, because one of her duties was to send correspondence from Mr. Lucas to people on the mainland and back home.
"And, please don't tell Mr. Lucas about these letters."
She frowned, but seemed to understand that request as well.
"Thank you, Helen," I said, patting her hand.
I was wheeled to the altar that was created. Mr. Lucas had managed to find a minister on short notice. Mr. Lucas was dressed in a formal tuxedo, his salt and pepper hair slicked back on his head.
My stomach turned to see him, and I felt like throwing up, right then and there. What made things even worse was his face. He looked so…satisfied. Like he had won.
You haven't won. You will soon find out that I would literally rather die than spend another day with you.
So, I smiled, too. It was a genuine smile, because I knew what my plan was going to be.
The minister began his recital. This was going to be a long one, because, for some odd reason, Mr. Lucas wanted the ceremony to be religious. Which meant that there was going to be a long speech about God and all kinds of other stuff that Mr. Lucas couldn't possibly know the first thing about.
All I could think was that there wasn't a God. If there was, then I wouldn't be put through such hell. I didn't do one thing to deserve any of this, so I concluded that there was no mercy, therefore there was no God.
I sighed as the minister was droning on and on about love and God, and God's love. I was blocking him out, thinking only about how I was going to soon be put out of my misery.
And then, suddenly, there was a commotion. The butler, Javier, was rushing into the backyard. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Lucas, so sorry."
"What?" he asked. "I'm in the middle of something here. How dare you interrupt?"
"So sorry," Javier repeated. "But he forced his way in."
"Who? Who forced his way in?"
I turned my head.
There, running towards me at top speed, was Nick.