Owned by Dominic (Possessed 1)

The lawn and gardens looked unkempt like they hadn’t been taken care of in months. He dreaded what the inside would look like. Walking to the double front door, he glimpse behind the shrubs and up at the windows to see if anything was out of place. Not seeing a problem, he finally opened them slowly so as not to alert his presence to anyone that might be inside. As he walked through the door, he was assaulted with dust everywhere. The stagnant smell made it hard to breathe.

Footsteps leading up the stairs had him quietly following their path. Rounding a corner, he listened for any noise but all was silent. Walking tentatively along the wall, he kept his eyes roving around the hall and his ears open for any strange noises.

The dusty footsteps stopped outside of Deedee’s old room. The door was cracked a small amount, so he had a pretty good idea of who he’d find behind it. Sniffling sounds confirmed his assumption that someone was there. Pushing the hard piece of wood open slowly, the sight before him broke his heart and infuriated him all in the same second.

“Deidre?” he growled angrily at her.

*****

Opening the iron gates to hell, Deidre cringed at the thought of hearing her father yell the moment the screech from the hinges was heard. When she was younger, she’d have sworn he waited just for that noise so he could vent his frustrations at her. He was always telling her how useless she was, and how he hadn’t wanted her. Which was why she never understood why he kept her with him instead of letting her mam take her.

It was a mystery she may never have the answer to, unfortunately.

Looking around at the yard, she hated how overgrown it looked. When she was younger, she would spend hours doing yard work with her mom. Weeding the flower bed, watering the grass, trimming the shrubs. It was sad to see it all looking so dead.

Nothing with the house had changed, though, other than it needed some fresh paint. The bars were still there; the door looked as unwelcoming as always, and the inside was darker than ever.

Searching at the bottom of one of the shrubs for the spare key that had been there for as long as she could remember, she had to dig for it before she finally felt the hard steel. Wiping the dirt from the metal, she unlocked the door and was startled by the groan of protest from the heavy door as it opened.

Dust flew everywhere when she finally stepped inside. Her footprints were like ghosts on the floor. Shock ran through her at how dirty the house was. She knew her da held no love for the home, but her mam had grown up here. After she had gone to boarding school, she was told that the house reverted back to her mother. Obviously, she had been lied to because no way would her mother have let it sit this way. The outside maybe, but never the interior of it.

As she slowly made her way through the house, the sheer amount of neglect amazed her. It also had her wondering about whether or not her mam was still alive. It was so surreal to even be thinking about something like that when a month ago, she had been preparing to move back home. Four months before that was her last correspondence with her mother. She knew anything could have happened in that time, but the idea stole her breath.

As she made it to her old room, everything was just as she’d left it eight years ago. The canopy bed was unmade, shelves were scattered with books and teddy bears she’d collected over the years when her Mam would take her to a carnival on her birthdays.

Going to the closet, she searched in the very back for the small shoebox she kept with all the letters they’d written back and forth from the time her mom left to just before Deidre had been sent away. Covered in dust, she opened the top only to find an envelope stacked on top that wasn’t nearly as worn as the others, still sealed shut.

Climbing out from the closet, she swept the comforter off her bed before sitting down. Taking a breath, she carefully opened the seal to reveal the contents of the letter…

My sweet a stór,

I don’t know how to even begin this letter to you. There is so much to tell you, so much you might never understand. How I wished things had been different. I was weak once, but I can never regret it for that weakness gave me you. And you my sweet, sweet Deidre are the best thing to come from my life.

There are things you’re going to find out about me, you, your father; things you’ll hate us all for.

You probably think I’m being dramatic. Maybe I am? My hope is that one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for my sins. You see before you were born, Bradshaw was a mean man—meaner than you ever witnessed

. He used to beat me daily and say the vilest of things, and I was at a very low point. A point in which you should never let a man bring you. And in walked Brock. You remember him, don’t you?

Brock was sweet and gentle, kind to a fault. He treated me in a way no man ever had before. Not much time had passed and I began to develop feelings for him. And he for me.

Our love was forbidden but so consuming that neither of us could stay away. We couldn’t control our need for one another. When he walked into a room my heart would race and my face would flush in warmth. Just knowing he was around made me feel alive for the first time in so long.

I had been dead inside, and he brought me back to life. Showed me there was beauty where I once only saw dark. He made me believe in myself again.

And then I fell pregnant with you.

The moment I found out I cried out of joy and sadness.

Joy because you were a part of me. Someone I could love for the rest of my life with no limits or expectations. You were going to be someone who would love me because I loved you so completely.

But then there was sadness…never because I was to have you. However, you weren’t going to belong to who you should have. I was married to your da, but my heart belonged to Brock, and so did you. I kept it a secret as long as I could, but Bradshaw knew almost from the start that you weren’t his because I was full of so much joy.

Some days I wonder why he didn’t force me to abort you, but then I would remember he was all about appearances. He saw you as a way up, only he brought us down. Further and further every day.

I know you must be angry because of my lies, and for that I am sorry. More than you could ever imagine.

Today is your eighteenth birthday, and I knew once you arrived back in Dublin and couldn’t find me, you’d come home. At least, I hope you do.