The Ahern Brothers Collection - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,1
and on each side stood stone statues of lions. Two benches with matching planters hold bright flowers soaking in the sun of the late summer.
Too good to be true, I mumble under my breath as I continue following my case manager.
Who in their right mind would welcome me into their house? My mother barely accepted me. What makes Ms. Graves think that these people will be willing to shelter me after everything that’s happened? But then again, maybe they don’t even know my history.
Don’t say a word, Abigail, or you’ll pay.
Terror overwhelms me. I drop my gaze to my feet counting my toes several times. My body shakes uncontrollably as the door opens. A middle-aged man wearing a blue suit smiles at us.
“Ms. Graves?” I jerk at the sound of his deep male voice.
“Yes, and this is Abigail Lyons,” she says straightening her back.
“Good afternoon, Miss Lyons,” the man standing in front of me greets. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He opens the door wider for us, stepping aside. I follow right behind Ms. Graves.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ahern will be with you in just a minute,” he says, giving us a sharp nod and walking away.
Ms. Graves squeezes my arm gently. “Everything is going to be fine,” she assures me.
Poor, naïve Ms. Graves. She’s only prolonging my agony. She doesn’t understand that no matter where she takes me, I won’t be safe from those monsters. I not only fear them, but the memories. The ghosts remain by my side. They’re choking me with their cold hands and squeezing the life out of me. I have no idea why I even fight them. Sooner or later they’ll win.
“Think positive,” she mumbles, sounding like one of those life coaches who try to make you believe that anything is possible. “This is your second chance. You’ll find happiness.”
Huh, happiness might happen to others perhaps … I don’t know if it’ll ever happen for me.
At this moment, however, I can only concentrate on two things: tying to remain silent and blocking the past from my mind. I just can’t do the latter. All my thoughts continue to scatter. Nothing has made sense since …
I hold my breath and count slowly, pushing aside everything that’s happened over the past few days. One, two, three. I focus on the marble floor while my nails dig into the sensitive flesh of my arms.
“What happened to you was tragic,” she continues.
Tragic?
She has no idea what happened to me at home or for how long it went on. Until a couple of days ago, my life was a cross between Kiss the Girls and Silence of the Lambs.
“I understand that you don’t want to talk about it, but you might want to change your attitude,” she snaps.
Her patience has run thin.
Take it easy on me. You heard the psychiatrist, lady. After what I witnessed, it might take months if not years to recover my speech.
So, what if I’m faking not being able to speak? It’s the only way I can assure my survival. I learned this by reading novels. It’s good to store useless information. I didn’t know that one day all of it would become useful. If only I could escape this town. There’s no way I can emancipate myself and create a new identity here. I should go blonde and try to make enough money to buy those colored contacts. I’d choose green. With my dark brown eyes, it would be almost impossible to fake a pure blue.
“You’re very lucky.” Her jaw clenches and her nostrils flare.
The woman has shed the sheepskin and is showing her inner wolf. Everyone has an inner wolf; some just hide it better than others. =
“The Aherns stopped fostering children a couple of years ago, but they made an exception for you.” She gives me a once-over and scrunches her nose. “This is your chance to start anew.”
I nod twice, pretending to understand what’s at stake. She’s just praying that I don’t become a burden for her. That after today, she doesn’t have to see me or hear from me ever again. Unless someone asks her where she sent me. My lip quivers when I realize that I’m not safe. Not here or anywhere. If only I were smart enough, I’d hack the database and erase my name from the system—erase any record of my existence.
“Everything will be okay,” Ms. Graves reassures me with that fake smile that reminds me of my mother’s.