The Face She Borrowed

Isabella’s POV

“Isabella, why didn’t you listen to me?” my father shouted as he pulled me out of the party.

“Stop trying to control my life, Dad. I’m a grown woman!” I snapped, yanking my arm from his grip.

“Isabella!” he yelled, his voice full of anger and frustration.

“Stop it, Dad! You can’t keep doing this. I’m going back in there, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

I turned my back on him and started walking toward the house again.

But before I could take another step, he grabbed me and swung me around, lifting me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

“As long as you’re living in my house, you will live by my rules!” he barked as he carried me toward his car.

“Dad, you’re embarrassing me! Put me down!” I screamed, kicking and struggling.

Even with my constant yelling, my dad didn’t stop.

He reached the car, opened the door, and set me down before forcing me into the passenger seat.

“It’s for your own good, kiddo,” he said quietly before walking around to the driver’s side.

The car ride was painfully silent.

The kind of silence where even the drop of a pin would sound loud.

But my anger was still burning.

And in that moment, I said the worst thing I could have ever said.

“I HATE YOU!” I shouted. “I regret ever having you as my father! If Mom had been here, this would never have happened. Now I see why she left us. You’re an overbearing control freak!”

I turned my head toward the window, refusing to look at him.

“Isabella…” he whispered.

There was something in his voice.

Pain. Regret.

Something that made me finally turn to look at him.

And that’s when I saw it.

The truck.

It was coming straight at us.

“Dad, look out!”

The scream tore from my throat as the blinding headlights of a truck rushed toward us.

Everything happened too fast.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

My eyes flew open as my alarm blared beside my bed.

My chest heaved as if I had just run a mile.

For a few seconds, I couldn’t breathe.

The dream. No… not a dream.

A memory.

Five years later, and it still haunted me like it had happened yesterday.

“You know that saying… time heals all wounds?” I muttered quietly to myself as I sat up in bed.

“Well, that wasn’t my case.”

My wounds were still wide open.

And the guilt still ate me alive.

The image of that night played in my mind every single day.

If I had done things differently… would it still have happened?

If I had listened to him.

If I hadn’t been such a stubborn teenager.

If I hadn’t gone to that party.

Would my dad still be here?

“So many what ifs…” I whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

Why did I have to argue with him?

Why did I have to distract him?

The accident was my fault.

And I had hated myself ever since.

The last words I ever said to him were horrible.

I didn’t hate him.

I never did.

He was the only real family I had ever known.

And now he was gone.

My mom left when I was only three years old.

My dad raised me all by himself.

So how stupid was I not to see how much he cared?

It had been five years since the accident.

And in one week, I would be turning twenty-one.

Which was why I had made a decision.

I was leaving this town. For good.

This place held too many memories.

Too many ghosts.

Every street reminded me of what I had lost.

Every night brought the same nightmare.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed a fresh start.

And moving to New York felt like my only chance.

“Twenty-one is going to be a new beginning for me,” I whispered to myself.

A week later, my birthday finally arrived.

My routine never changed.

Wake up. Eat. Go to school. Go to work. Come home.

Repeat.

Ever since the accident, my life had become painfully simple.

I didn’t really have friends anymore.

Maybe everyone saw me as the strange orphan girl now.

Everyone kept their distance.

Everyone except Judith.

The old lady next door.

After my father died, Judith secretly took care of me, even hiding me from the authorities until I turned eighteen and could legally live on my own.

She became the closest thing I had to family.

Which made leaving even harder.

As I walked downstairs into the living room, I froze.

Judith was standing beside the table, placing a small birthday cake in the centre.

Twenty-one candles flickered softly.

Even though I never wanted to celebrate my birthday after the accident, Judith still insisted every year.

“Isabella, my darling. Happy birthday,” she said warmly, kissing both my cheeks.

“Judith… you shouldn’t have,” I said, pulling her into a hug.

She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t you know the drill by now? Every year, you say you don’t want to celebrate. And every year I ignore you.”

She gently pulled me closer to the cake.

“Make a wish, honeybun.”

I looked at the candles.

Twenty-one tiny flames.

I closed my eyes.

I only had one wish.

A fresh start.

I blew out the candles.

Judith handed me a slice of cake, and we went outside to sit on the swing chair overlooking the quiet town.

“Judith…” I said softly.

“Yes, dear?”

I stared down at my hands, fidgeting with the hem of my dress.

“I need to tell you something.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

I swallowed hard.

“I’m leaving.”

Her face fell instantly.

“I can’t stay here anymore,” I continued, my voice trembling. “Everywhere I look, I see memories. I feel the guilt all over again.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

Judith gently lifted my chin.

“Isa… what happened was not your fault,” she said softly as she wiped my tears away.

“But even if it breaks my heart to see you go… I will support your decision.”

She pulled me into a tight hug.

“You’re a grown woman now. Go explore the world. See where life takes you.”

“Thank you, Judith,” I whispered into her shoulder.

“Just promise me something,” she said.

“What?”

“Call me. Visit me whenever you can. Age is catching up with me.”

I laughed softly through my tears.

“I promise.”

“I love you, my child.”

“I love you too.”

The day I left arrived faster than I expected.

My suitcase was packed.

My heart was not.

Judith was already crying when I came downstairs.

“Don’t forget to call,” she repeated for the hundredth time.

“I won’t,” I promised.

We stepped outside together.

Locking the door to the house I grew up in felt harder than I imagined.

It felt like I was locking away every memory.

Every mistake.

Every demon.

I took a deep breath.

Then turned the key.

The door clicked shut.

I walked to the car, my heart pounding heavily.

As the car drove away, I looked back at Judith and the house one last time.

Tears slid silently down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I whispered.

“But I have to leave.”

At the airport, everything moved quickly.

Before long, I was seated on the plane heading to New York.

I leaned back in my seat, staring out the window as the engines roared to life.

My mind replayed everything that had brought me here.

The accident.

The guilt.

The goodbye.

I slowly closed my eyes as exhaustion took over.

“New city…” I murmured.

“Please be good to me.”