He nodded.
It was over.
The pain in his eyes was so potent that I could feel it reaching into my heart and shredding it with its long vicious claws. That night he made sure to show me that I belonged to him—repeatedly. His kisses and caresses would be forever embedded in my brain. He made sure that no man would ever live up to him. In the end, he hurt me more than I hurt him. I broke his heart, but he tore mine into a million pieces. Even if I wanted to piece it back together, I would never find them all because he would always be holding some.
Chapter 12
Present
I arrive at Amalgamated Bank and stand stock still by the front door for a couple of minutes. The bank has an old eerie feel to it, and most of the people in here are older men dressed in suits. I am hesitant to continue in, but the security guard at the front glares at me, and I know I have to move. I stand in line shifting from one foot to the other as I wait to write my name down on the list. The tellers are to my right behind a tall desk. This place is giving me the creeps. I’m half expecting for someone to pull out a machine gun and yell, “Manolo, shoot that piece of shit.” Scarface style. I continue to look around while fidgeting my hands until I finally wrangle them together tightly, creating my own bondage. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, but it doesn’t help. I’m so scared to take my eyes away from my surroundings that I don’t even want to dig in my purse to take out my phone and text somebody to keep me false company. When I finally make it to the sign-in sheet, I jot down my name, and make my way over to the waiting area.
I sit down and look at the old men—or older men, I should say. They all look like somebody pissed in their coffee this morning. I spot a group of them circling around an older gentleman with white hair, who is making his way toward the exit that is located behind me. He’s wearing a sharp navy suit, a white shirt, and a blue tie. He has charcoal eyes that compliment his salt and pepper hair. I smile at the sight of him even though he’s not looking at me. He seems like a kind man, but I can tell he’s influential. I purse my lips and wonder what he does for a living. He catches me staring and scrunches his eyebrows together as if he’s trying to figure out where he knows me from. I’m kind of doing the same to him even though I couldn’t possibly know him. Our eyes stay focused on each other until a woman touches my shoulder and asks me if I’m Blake. I break eye contact with the old man, who’s still frozen in place, to nod at the banker before getting up to follow her.
“Miss Brennan, did you bring your key and identification?” she asks.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Good. My name is Alicia. I’ll help you access your box, then I’ll step outside and give you some privacy. You just have to press this red button, and I’ll come right in if you need any help.”
I thank her and step aside, so she can show me to the box. The room is filled with big and little boxes. If it wasn’t for the adorned circular gold door, I would have confused this for a nicer-looking post office.
I take a deep breath as she pulls the drawer out of the wall and places it on the large marble table in the center of the room. She excuses herself and exits, leaving me alone in my nightmare. I take a couple of deep breaths to ease the tensing in my stomach as I step closer to the table. My heart is pounding so loudly that it’s the only noise filling my ears. I circle the table once and stop directly in front of the drawer.
“Here goes nothing,” I mumble to myself.
Sitting in the drawer are three large yellow manila envelopes. I take the first one out; it’s heavy and fat. I open it slowly—scared of what I might find. I thought I was prepared. I thought I could do this, but when I find myself looking at a picture of myself as a baby, my hands start to shake uncontrollably. As I gather the manila envelopes in my hands, I notice a standard-size envelope with my name on it is taped to one of them. I tear it open and sigh in relief when I recognize Shelley’s handwriting.
Blake,
In these envelopes you will find photos of your childhood. There are some from when you were still with your parents before you lived with me, and there are some with me. I’m sure you’re questioning whether or not you want these. I’m sure it will hurt to look at them, but please take them home with you. Try to keep them even if you lock them away in a box. You don’t have to look at them. Maybe someday you will have children of your own, and you might want to show these to them. Someday you will know the truth, and your heart might hurt less. At least, I hope it will.