With a blink, two weeks have come and gone. In a schedule of routine and trying to figure out a new hospital, time escaped faster than I did that night. Since, I haven’t heard anything on Ryan, only feeding into my suspicions on his whereabouts.

The next six months will be with me constantly looking over my shoulder. Maybe even a lifetime. It’s practically second nature now.

I just can’t shake the feeling.

But if these six months go by as quickly as those two weeks did, hopefully I won’t have any problems. It was a risk taking a long contract, but at least it’s far enough away. For now.

My little apartment is coming together nicely. It may have seemed unnecessary, but I got a little couch for a corner space. I don’t know anyone here, so the couch is enough for just me, even as I look at the empty cushions. It’ll probably remain that way. Empty.

It’s slowly becoming a sanctuary for me. Still empty looking, but these touches certainly help make it a home for now. If there’s anything I learned about living in a place where I had to constantly walk on eggshells, it’s that it’s important to make a place of peace.

It may all be pointless, buying things for an apartment that will no longer be mine in a few months. But it’s mine for right now, and I’m going to relish that. He never believed I could, and yet here I am.

I can, Ryan.

I smile at the little red brick apartment before me. It’s mine. All on my own it’s mine.

My phone buzzes in my lap, signaling a photo and Bonnie across the screen.

“Hi, Sunny girl.” My mother beams.

“Hi, mom.”

“I see a new piece of furniture.” She tries to peer closer as if it’ll change her view.

“Oh yeah…” I toy with a loose curl from my bun.

“Seems homey,” she says with a tone I don’t like. “Big enough for a few extra people.”

I roll my eyes. “Just enough for me.” I stretch along the small couch.

“What about a painting class? Have you found a studio yet?”

Clearly my mother is pushing me to make a life outside of work and this apartment while I’m trying to keep my space small. No point in planting roots, because pulling them will be a bitch.

“Maybe I’ll just get an easel and paint here.” I shrug.

My mother has such an artistic soul that rubbed off a little on me. I wouldn’t say I’m good, not like my mother anyways. I’m only decent, and I like painting as a mindless task. Mindless is what I need right now. Too much time in my own mind is dangerous.

We’d sit outside in the sun, covered in paint, painting anything our hearts desire. My parents really gave me the most unconventional upbringing, but I loved every minute of it. I was homeschooled up until high school because they felt that was where some major social milestones needed to be made.

That’s how I met Ryan.

“Sunny girl, you’ve got to get out. Make some friends,” she encourages. Though she tries to hide it, the look in her eyes shows me how desperately she wants the girl I used to be back.

“What’s the point?” I ask. “I’m not staying.”

I’m not who I used to be, but eventually I’ll get better. I won’t be the same. This version of me is going to have cracks, but maybe once I get my light again, it’ll be able to bleed through.

“Just live your life, Sunny,” she says. “That’s all you can do.”

There’s truth to her words. But the definition of living is different to every person. Mine has changed. It was rewritten the day he ripped out the page of my book that inked the foundation of who I am. Now I have to rewrite it, but my hand is too shaky as it sits on a blank page. Because if I don’t write anything at all, no one can take it from me again.

I plaster a weak smile. “I’ll try.”

We say our goodbyes, and I’m left with the sounds of the bustling city through my open window and my heart beating heavily in my chest.

I clutch a mug of tea and steady my breathing, despite my eyes double checking the lock on the door. Looking For Alaska by John Green sits in my lap, so I place my mug of tea on the arm rest and thumb through the pages.

I risked the few seconds I had while Ryan was knocked out to swipe it off the nightstand and head out the door. Call it reckless, but he already took so much, I wouldn’t let him try to take that again, too.

I’d never related to Alaska until now, as I sit in the middle of my own labyrinth, unsure of which way to go in order to get out. Maybe somehow, I’ll find the clues between the words printed on the pages. Or maybe we just never get out.

The crisp September night air flows through my open window. I’m not used to the cold, but it’s a nice change. I’ve never lived alone until now. So the constant quiet is unfamiliar. Eerie. But somehow exactly what I need, even if it is a little unsettling.

I tell myself that I will get myself back. I have to. I have to move forward. Even if it’s running from him. It’s still forward, nonetheless.

And what if you’re running from a ghost?

A part of me died the day I left but another part was created. Gently I’m molding that new, vulnerable part of myself, unsure of what it’ll be yet. Desperately trying to gather my broken, jagged pieces, even if I keep getting cut by them.

It’s only been a month, but I’m not okay with him taking more of my time than he already did. My mother was onto something, I guess.

Just live your life, Sunny.

TYLER

Sitting in a booth in our favorite bar, I watch my family as they bustle around Martha’s. Owned by an ex-biker who’ll kick anyone out who causes issues — Cole and I are proof of that.

You wouldn’t expect a man who owns millions to be here, but something about the stale beer smell and walls lined with arcade games calls me back every time. I also can’t forget the drunk bastards who dance on the rickety dance floor. It’s our own personal comedy show when we play at the pool tables.

If I’m being honest, it’s a fucking hole in the wall. But it’s our hole in the wall. I enjoy places like this because I can simply be Tyler. Not Mr. Caddell, not son of Mitchell Caddell, not hitman, not predator. Only Tyler.

Initiation was to prove I’d remain loyal, to ensure my reach is limitless when it came to running and protecting our company. To do anything in my power to protect it and do my jobs without question, without hesitation. Little did I know that initiation began the moment my lungs filled with air as I entered this world.

My family is the anchor that keeps me grounded when I feel like I’m being sent into a dark oblivion. I’m convinced that’s another reason my father is the way he is. He let the power and the money take over, and he became more and more hungry for it, never being able to satisfy that need. He didn’t have people who loved him. Loyal out of fear, sure. But love? I wonder if he knows what that feels like.

While Cole and I start a game of pool, Sam, Anthony, and Macey chat at the table. This is where we met Macey. While her age difference may not seem so significant, she’s still found her role as the little sister, the little fragile bird we all try to protect because she is the only one to not be born into the world we live in.

The lucky one.

It didn’t take long to realize she’d been stood up by a date considering her hair and makeup were done up way nicer than what should exist in a bar like this. Shortly after, we welcomed her with open arms and she just simply never left.

After everyone went home, I made sure the man who stood her up knew the right way to treat a woman. You never leave a woman alone at a fucking bar. No matter how bad the date is going, you make sure she gets home safely like a man should.

Needless to say after our little encounter, he got the concept.

I watch as my sister leaps from the table and saunters where Cole and I play pool. Anthony’s eyes follow her. I lean on my pool stick as I watch the love triangle unfold in front of me. A man so desperate for a woman eager to be in another man’s bed.

It’s messy, so fucking messy, but what family isn’t?

They’ve helped me realize that family isn’t by blood, but love. They are my true family. There was a hollowness in my chest that I’d spent my life questioning. Something that I wondered would ever feel full. Then I met them.

I keep a tight shield around our family. After Macey, no one has really been able to make their way into our circle. Even with Shelby, I hadn’t told her about our dinners until six months prior to our breakup, and I also never invited her.

She was an obligation I put off for too long, and it bit me in the ass. I think a part of her knew that, which is why she did the things she did to me. Her red painted nails were sunk deep into me, leaving an imprint so deep it makes me question whether or not I’ll ever be able to escape her. I have a plan, but is it worth it?

That’s why I sit in this purgatory. This in between of what to do with Shelby. I have to be strategic in either choice I make. My life is a series of roles necessary for a means to an end. Whatever I do with Shelby is just that, too. If I piss off the wrong people, they will hit me where it hurts.

I look at my family, knowing they’d be the first target.

Sam’s dramatic laugh breaks me out of my thoughts, and my eyes focus the moment she places her hand over Cole’s callused ones. I don’t even have to look to know Anthony is shifting in his seat. I do, and there he is, doing just that as Macey watches with a soft smile. Another perk of my father’s grooming. I’m always somehow able to predict the next step.

Twirling my pool stick, my thoughts are brought back to the little fire in the coffee shop. She’s consumed most parts of my thoughts and I don’t even know her name. I don’t know her age. I don’t know her job. I don’t know her favorite color or food. I don’t know the way those pink lips feel or what ignites that fire that sits in those eyes.

I don’t know anything except for one thing — I want her. If Boston doesn’t bring her back to me, then I’m just going to have to find her myself.

Another perk of my grooming — data breach.

As the clock strikes eleven, the music is bumped louder in que for Tuesday night Karaoke. Because for some reason, Boston is obsessed with it.

Stopping her flirtatious banter with Cole, my sister looks me dead in the eyes as she yells, “let’s karaoke!”

Before I know it, I’m being drug to the tiny dance floor and a microphone is being shoved in my hand, making me cringe but still stand my ground, nonetheless.

Only for my family.

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