Mint [H.S.]

25

Red Light Special - TLC

Tell me your secrets, and I'll tell you mine... I want you for tonight.

ISABELLA

There have been very few times in my life where I've been shocked still.

Once when I was seven, when the boy I had been crushing on, who happened to live down the road, kissed me in his treehouse after an intense game of hide and go seek. His lips had left me still like a statue. Eyes widen with excitement, and lips a deep red from the messy, clumsy smooch from my gawky, yet incredibly dreamy, eight year old neighbour.

Another time was when I had just turned sixteen. I had passed my driving test and had received my driving permit. I was ecstatic beyond belief. Soon after, my excitement turned into sheer disbelief, when I stepped outside the DMV to see a brand new Volkswagen beetle (my dream car since I had been twelve).

However, neither of these moments ... moments of pure excitement and happiness, could even compare to the heart wrenching disbelief that had laden my soul, after hearing about my father's actions.

There had always been a part of me - a part that used to be small as a sliver, that quickly morphed into the better half of my soul, that screamed something was not right.

Franklin Maxwell was a cunning man. He was a mastermind and a manipulator. He was well aware of the impact he had on the world around him - his world. The world of rich men in crisp ironed suits, whose wives knew little to nothing of the working world, but lived off of Cartier and champagne.

My father is devious. He cared only about ranking higher and higher on the social ladder. He didn't care about the people he hurt along the way, or the relationships he destroyed. All that mattered to him was the power and credibility he earned once he made it to the top. He didn't care about his family... his wife... his daughters. All that matters to him is whether or not people knew his name.

I had come to this conclusion a few hours after Harry had left my apartment. His words are a broken record player in my mind. His explanation is stuck on a loop that I can't seem to shake off. Everything that has happened between the two of us over the past few months hadn't been his doing. Sure, he made the decision to leave, but it wasn't his idea. It was my father... the devil himself. It made my blood boil and my skin crawl thinking about everything my father had done to me behind my back.

Knowing that I have been watched for God knows how long made me sick to my stomach. My skin crawled at the idea of some stranger following my every move, watching me, taking photographs of me ... the mere thought of it causes my skin to crawl and my stomach to churn.

"I wanted to ask you to marry me..." All that Harry wanted to do, was to ask me for my hand in marriage. Marriage! The word had floated here and there between the two of us for two months. In my mind, it was something we would consider for later on in the future. Perhaps in another year or so. I didn't know that he wanted to marry me sooner. To ask for my hand in marriage... and have my father's seal of approval. But of course - because the world was working against me, we never got to that far.

Tears stained my face like astringent rain. It burned my skin as it fell down my cheeks, staining the pale, pale skin. I thought I was done with this fulsome act. I was tired of crying. I was drained - metaphorically and physically speaking. I was ready to move on.

I love Harry. I love him with every fibre of my being. My soul ached for his own. I was desperate to feel his taut skin against my hands, to hear his raspy voice speak into my ear when I tried to watch a movie, to feel the bed dip whenever he moved in his sleep. I longed to have him by my side - regardless of all the shit that happened in the past.