𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤

13⇢sorrows

JAMIE

Last week, I learned that my Uncle Max was killed in a car accident. Two hours after my encounter with Voltar. The driver of the other car was killed, too, so I couldn't press charges. But I know what really happened:

Voltar purposefully killed Uncle Max in a car accident and killed the other driver to make it seem like it was an untimely accident.

Voltar obviously murdered him—both of them—in cold blood to provoke me, and it worked.

After my parents died, Uncle Max was the only family I had left — even if his guardian skills were below average. I don't have any sort of connection with my other aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. I haven't even met them, and I know Uncle Max hadn't either.

A couple days ago, we had the police go through his house since it's vacant. I've spoken to tax preparers, Max's investment advisor, the bank, a trusts and estates attorney, and utility companies.

I'm just about ready to die alongside him.

Over the past week, I've spent almost all of it crying. I know I wasn't closest to him, but I still cared about him. He was my father figure, though not a very good one, for half of my life. And now, he's just gone.

Sam's done a great job at being there for me, too. He's always making sure I'm staying caught up with schoolwork, but he lets me be sad and silent when I need to. He's also been able to take my mind off of things by stealing kisses or making dinner with me or simply laying in bed with me, making sure I don't feel alone.

And it's only making my romantic liking for him grow. Damn you and your charm, Samuel.

Sam (moral support) and I are currently sitting in an office with a life insurance agent, going over Max's death certificate and claims.

"—and if that's all, I'd like to see his files." Michael's words interrupt my thoughts, and I hastily grab a copy of Max's papers out of my purse, placing them on the desk and sliding them over before I reach over and grab Sam's hand for comfort.

Michael quickly looks through the papers while muttering to himself before he looks up. "I can get the payout to you in the next thirty days and the certificate to you by tomorrow. Can you come in then?"

"Maybe sometime in the evening. I'm having a private funeral at noon," I just about whisper to him, and he nods. Sam's grip on my hand tightens at my words.

"Well, when you're ready, just call me on this number," he starts, reaching into the breast pocket of his dress shirt and handing me a business card, "I'll be here all day, so there's absolutely no rush."

"Thank you," I say, and we both stand up to shake hands. Sam stands up beside me as my hand falls out of his.

"Of course. Nice to meet you, Jamie. You, too, Samuel."

Sam smiles and nods to him, shaking his hand as well. Michael opens the door to his office, and Sam and I make our way out, interlocking our fingers as we walk towards the exit.

"How're you doing," Sam asks me for what seems like the millionth time, "At least, that was the last meeting. I don't think I could sit through another one of those."

"Yeah, no kidding." My voice is weak and strained when I speak. "I'm fine though."

"Fine like — not fine, or fine like — you really are fine?"

I laugh at Sam's response. "I really am fine, Sam. Don't worry."

"I still do. You know that," he answers, making my heart flutter, even if it's still a little bruised.