Firstly, a BIG thank you to Bibiane Lybaek and Ashton Reid for all your hard work, patience, constructive insights, and love for this project. I have learned so much about this whole process from you, and have challenged myself to be a better writer because of your encouragement and support. Thank you girls, from the bottom of my heart. P.S. Shay belongs to you, Bibi.
To my family,
Thank you for cheering me on and celebrating every little milestone I made throughout this journey. For being my own personal cheer team! Every uplifting word was heard and you have no idea how big a difference it made. Thank you for listening to me chatter on and on and ON about books and writing.
And lastly, to my husband,
For giving me as much time as you could so I could work on my story. For hearing me out as I talked endlessly about characters, plot, or about writing in general.
But most importantly,
For always telling me I was good enough to do this.
Present Day
Mina: Sixteen Years Old
June
I try to open my eyes, but it’s like there are weights attached to my lids. I feel strange… like I’m floating… like my senses are in suspended animation, as if they’re on vacation and don’t want to come back to reality yet. I giggle at the thought. Hmm, a vacation would be nice. A sandy beach, the ocean, a man with eyes to match the waves and hair as gold as the sand, at my side…
A continuous beeping breaks through my fantasy. What the hell is that?
I can hear voices too, speaking in low, deep rumbling murmurs. But they are close by. The air smells like cleaning products and is heavily sterile. I’m lying down… yes, I’m in bed, for sure. The mattress is kind of hard, uncomfortable, and the blanket covering me is thin and overused to the point where any sort of weight or warmth it once held is gone. Why am I in bed? Wasn’t I on the floor?
Oh my God…
Wait…
“Mum?” I try to call out to her, but for some reason, my voice is so hoarse, I can only croak. My throat feels insanely dry, like I haven’t had water in days.
A hand suddenly grips one of my own and I can hear footsteps rush in my direction. The men. Skeleton masks…
My eyes fly open as blind panic gives me a sudden burst of adrenaline. The room is dark, save for one dim light from somewhere behind me. I blink, clearing my vision, and cast a quick look around, searching for a sign of the men in masks. But all I see is white walls, white floors, and the machines by my bed, which have all sorts of monitors that are beeping and whirring away, and the window on my left reveals a black sky littered with stars. Am I in a hospital?
My gaze drifts down to see Shay sitting beside me, his back to the window, gripping one of my hands tightly in both of his own. At once, my fear trickles away at the sight of my stepbrother, and my feelings of fear and panic morphs to one of relief and safety. My dry lips crack as I smile at him, relieved to have him here with me. The longer I look at him, however, I slowly start to notice little details about his appearance that seem off; like how his silver eyes are red and puffy, as if he’s been crying, a rarity for him. His hair is strewn around his face like he’s been gripping it in his hands. As my mind sluggishly starts to catch up to me, he lets out a shuddering sort of gasp, and kisses my knuckles. It’s then that I notice the large, dark figure beside him. James grips his shoulder and leans over me, kissing my forehead.
“Hey, Baby Girl,” he whispers, as though he’s afraid to speak any louder. “You thirsty?”
I nod and lick my parched lips. James brings over a water bottle and I greedily suck on the straw until it’s empty. He moves through a doorway across the room, revealing a small washroom, and comes back with more. I finish half of it and sink back into the pillows piled up behind me, “Man, I don’t know what drugs they gave me, but I might ask if I can bring some home,” I mumble, feeling pleasantly lightheaded.
They both chuckle softly and I close my eyes and smile at the sound. I like making them laugh. And now that I’m apparently as high as a kite, I find I like it even more. When I look up at James again, however, I notice that he, too, has heavily red-rimmed eyes. His face is gaunt, and he looks exhausted, like he’s aged ten years in a day. Even his peppered dark hair looks like it’s grown more greys at his temples. He runs a shaky hand through the waves and closes his dark eyes, looking like he’s minutes away from collapsing. I’ve never seen him like this. Never seen him look so vulnerable. It kind of scares me a little. Ever since I met James, he’s always been the strong one, an impenetrable force in our household. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry, but it’s clear to me now that he has been.
In this moment, he is the exact opposite of the man I met so many years ago.
The Past…
Mina: Seven Years Old
July
“It’s okay, Mina, it’s just a motorcycle,” my mum held my hand in hers as we watched the huge, black Harley drive down the cul-de-sac towards us. We had been waiting on the front stoop for her new boyfriend to make his appearance, and finally, he was here. But the sound of his motorcycle sent a shiver through me, as the deafening roar of the engine reminded me of what I imagined a monster might sound like. Some of our neighbours who were out, cast stern looks over their shoulders as the loud motorcycle drove past, and their frowns deepened at the sight of the huge brute of a man seated on it. Mum gave my hand an encouraging squeeze as the bike glided to a halt at the curb before our little bungalow, and I raised my gaze to the dangerous-looking man sitting astride it. He wore aviator sunglasses and no helmet; dressed in dark jeans, a leather jacket, and dark boots.
My mother released my hand and practically skipped forward. Terrified of being caught in the open, I hurried behind her, and clung to her sundress as she greeted the scary looking man. She obviously wasn’t scared of him, but I had never seen anyone like him before.
“James,” she said breathlessly, as he set his kickstand and climbed off his bike with a lazy swing. He stepped forward, wrapped a tattooed hand around her waist and tugged her close for a deep kiss. Disgusted, I released the hem of her dress I’d been clutching and covered my eyes.
Kissing is so gross!
The last time I’d seen anyone kiss my mummy was my daddy, but that had been three years ago. But he was gone now…
The man who was now kissing my mum finally released her, and he peered over her shoulder at me. I trembled, intimidated by his black leather jacket, his dark wavy hair that had hints of grey at his temples, and the tattoos on his hands that looked like stormy waves. He stepped around my mummy and crouched down, elbows on his knees as he got to my level, and removed his sunglasses revealing eyes as black as crow feathers. He grinned at me. “You must be Mina,” he rumbled in his deep voice, but it was gentle, not what I was expecting from someone like him. The friendliness in his tone encouraged me to take a tentative step forward, but I fiddled with my long, blonde braid nervously, as this beast of a man greeted me.
James reached out a hand to me and I found myself entranced by the beautiful ink on his skin. I’d never seen tattoos before, let alone someone who appeared to be absolutely covered in them. Though I was shy, I was a curious kid, and despite my reservations about him at first, I truly believed that all people were indisputably good. He was smiling so kindly; his face handsome and open. Timidly, I placed my tiny hand in his massive rough one, and allowed him to pull me closer to his motorcycle.