In Your Memory

LIANA

 

I shoved the rest of my things inside the trunk of the beat-up Corolla. This wasn't supposed to be how I planned to spend my spring break.

 

I turned eighteen three weeks ago and was supposed to go dancing with my best friend, May, at The 28th, the hottest new club that just opened downtown. We had planned it for months, right down to the extra short glitter dresses and bedazzled stiletto heels. One perfect night to feel free before finals.

 

Instead, here I am resisting the urge to rip my hair out of my head, because I have to uproot my life once again, all because of my sweet, sweet mother, Celeste.

 

I watch as she tucks in a loose, bouncy coil behind her ear and calls for me to get into the car from the driver's seat, and I get an intense urge to rip out her hair instead.

 

“I'm not going.” I slammed the trunk and crossed my arms in defiance.

 

“Liana—”

 

“No!”

 

“We’ve had this conversation before. Please, would you just get in the car?” Mom sighed, and I could get a sense of how exhausted she was, but I couldn't care over my rage.

 

What? Was I supposed to feel sorry for her at this moment? I am so sick of being a rag doll to be pulled in whatever direction she wants.

 

“No, I'm not going,” I repeat. Yes, we've had this conversation. Heck, we've had this conversation for weeks now, and the way I see it, this is my last chance to stand my ground.

 

I watched as Celeste cursed, yanked open her door, and stalked to stand in front of me. “Sweetheart, please get in the car. Stop making it harder than it needs to be.”

 

“For whom, Mom? Harder for whom?” I raised my voice.

“Oh, no.” Celeste took a few steps away from me and began to pace. I watch her retuck another loose coil behind her ear, a nervous tick of hers.

 

“You don't get it, Mom. You never get it! You're dragging me away from everything again! May was counting on me.  I just started having a life, having friends. I just started getting used to living in Austin.”

 

Celeste flinches like I slapped her. “It's just one more fresh start, honey. Crimson Hollow is a beautiful place, and I promise that you'll love it once you settle in. Damon has a beautiful home and—”

 

“Oh my gosh, stop.” My voice cracks, but I don't care. “You said the same thing in Chicago, and Dallas, and Denver, and now, here we are. Husband number seven, do you even hear yourself?”

 

Her mouth opens, but she has no comeback. She never does. She just rubs her forehead with her right hand, like this conversation is hurting her, and deep down a part of me hurts, which somehow elevates my anger and resentment towards her.

 

“You're eighteen,” she says softly, “but you're still my daughter, and you're coming with me. End of story.”

 

We stare at each other, and then I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying something that I'll regret more than I already do.

 

I yank the passenger door open and throw myself inside. I feel Celeste get in the car, but I don't look at her. I'm looking out into what used to be our yard, and once the car starts rolling, I'm looking out into what used to be our neighborhood.

 

You think that once you've done this three or four times, you'll get used to it, but you never do. I feel the tears welling up in my eyes, but I blink them back. Crying means admitting defeat, and the war isn't over yet.

 

We drive in silence for hours. I count the towns we pass by the glow of neon signs. I watch the sky go from orange to indigo to black, and I think of nothing but the bedazzled heels May and I stayed up all night making.

 

I should be at The 28th right now, dancing under the light of the disco ball with May's laughter in my ears and bass rattling my bones. Instead, I'm here watching highway signs fly by like they're mocking me.

 

By the time the ocean appears, it's so late that I can barely keep my eyes open. By this time, Celeste had already turned the radio on to fill in the silence. The soothing voice from the radio host somehow blends with the moon's reflection off the waves to paint a near-perfect and serene moment.

 

It is almost enough to make me forget just how trapped I feel. Almost. I slowly drift into a peaceful sleep.

 

“Honey, wake up. We'll soon be there.” Celeste gently wakes me up, and my jaws almost instantly drop to the floor when the villa comes into view.

 

More castle than house, perched on the cliffs as if daring the ocean to swallow it whole. Endless rows of windows glitter like watchful eyes. Ivy crawls up stone walls that look older than I am. The driveway is lined with tall iron lanterns that flicker in the salty winds.

 

The castle is massive and imposing. It's stunning and terrifying at the same time, like a prison made of beauty. Who exactly is this Damon Blackwell, and how did my mom even meet him?

 

I feel my stomach sink through the floor as my mom drives through the driveway. We don't belong here. Yet, I watch Celeste smile from ear to ear as she takes in the view.

 

“Mom, I think we should leave. I don't have a very good feeling about this.”

 

“Nonsense,” she waves away my concern. “You'll love it here. Oh, I'm sure of it.”

 

I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of the car, the view right in front of me still feeling very unreal. A valet comes over and bows in front of Celeste before taking the key to put the car away. I could've sworn that I saw his face crinkle when he saw the car. It just made me hate this place even more.

 

“I’ll have someone bring your things up.” The baritone voice coming from my right startled me. I look up to find Damon freaking Blackwell.

 

His suit probably cost more than everything in our car combined. Standing at 6 ft 5 inches, with his platinum blonde hair, piercing grey eyes, and his jawline that could probably cut diamond, he looked like a Greek god in the flesh.

 

How did he and my mom even meet? I turned towards my mom's direction and caught her looking at him like a lovesick teenager, and something about her gaze threw me off.

This Blackwell dude, whoever he is, nothing has changed. Nothing will change. How long before she gets tired of him or he gets tired of her? Then we'll be running off to another town again.  Never again.

 

He watched us approach him with a cold smile on his face that made me instantly distrustful of him. “Welcome home, Liana. I'm very pleased to finally meet you.”

 

“Where's my room?” I snapped at him and heard Celeste gasp behind me.

 

“Yes, you must be tired.” He snapped his fingers, and a maid appeared behind him, curtly taking a bow. “Martha would show you to your room.” His smile didn't flicker, yet his eyes seemed to grow colder. I shivered. What a scary old man.

 

Martha leads me up an endless staircase, past oil paintings and crystal chandeliers that drip light all over marble floors. Everything smells like freshly picked flowers and old money.

 

As I take in the breathtaking view, my eyes scan my surroundings to plan my possible escape. This is the life Celeste wants, and I'm happy for her, but I'm done being an actor in her movie.

 

My room is enormous. A four-poster bed like something out of a fairytale, a fireplace bigger than my entire old bedroom. Huge windows that look straight out over the crashing waves. I suck in my breath as I take in the beautiful view. This is an upgrade from the rat-infested one room we used to live in, in Denver, but still…this isn't what I want.

 

There's a huge walk-in closet, and I find all my things and clothes already folded and arranged. It doesn't even take up a quarter of the space. I sigh, grab a bag, and pack a few clothes.

 

“Do you think it's time yet?” My wolf spirit stirs in the back of my restless mind, “Not yet.”

 

I leave my room when I'm certain that the rest of the whole house is asleep. I was close to the front door when a voice caught me off guard.

 

I took a few steps back; my legs were slowly getting numb while the voice got closer.

 

“W-who… is there?” I summoned little courage to ask, but when I wasn’t getting any reply, I realized it might be more serious than I imagined.

 

My heartbeat became faster; at this point I wanted to scream my lungs out. I knew from the start that coming here was a bad idea.

 

“Who are you!” I screamed angrily as my heart stopped.