Lifeless (Book II)

Break

Chapter Twenty Seven

Vicky ran up the stairs and into her room locking the door. She flung herself unto her bed and cried. She hated not remembering, she hated begin apart from the man she loved. Was it possible that there was so much love between them that it was forbidden?

"Grace Honey, open the door," Her mother called out.

"GO AWAY" she exclaimed rising off the bed and pushing her furniture in front of the door. Her mother banged louder against the door trying to pry it open.

"We just want to talk to you," she replied jiggling the door knob.

Vicky looked at her window and darted for it quickly pushing it open and slipping her leg out first.

Grace!" came the roaring shout of her father.

She feared it as she remembered the double barrel shotgun in his hands and losing her balance she plunged all the way to the ground instantly blacking out.

When her eyes finally fluttered open all she could see was complete darkness, the chilling room making her skin prickle, as strong shutters consumed her. She ached everywhere, her head, her back, and especially her left leg. She tried wiggling her toes but found that to be painful. Her biggest guess was that maybe it was broken. A sob escaped her as she tried rolling to her side but that too was immense. She took a deep breath and let it out with clattering teeth. The smell of burning oak wood consumed her nose and instantly she knew just where she was. Her father's private cabin.

"Alex," she whispered just barely. A light switch was suddenly turned on and she shut her eyes away from the bright light above her head. Vicky tried moving, but everything was too painful to even consider twitching. She took a lung full of air as the sharp pain in her left leg increased when she tried moving it just barely.

"Shhh, you had a rather nasty fall, just lay still," Mrs. Holiday whispered.

"Please, please just let me go," Vicky pleaded.

"I told him this wouldn't work out, I told him that one way or another the past was going to haunt us, but he wouldn't listen." She whispered to herself.

She felt thick tears escape her, turning instantly cold with the atmosphere in the room. They trickled down the side of her temple creating a small puddle inside her ear. Through her blurry vision she looked up at Mrs. Holiday's vague shape. She blinked several times to clear her vision, but the tears spilled out of their own accord as she lifted her head just slightly.

"When we found you on the side of the road, we thought our prayers had been answered. I figured God was giving me a second chance to start all over." She sighed lightly smoothing out Vicky's hair.

"I don't understand," Vicky croaked.

"By now I'm sure you know that you aren't really our daughter." She replied patting her forehead with a wet cloth now.

"Please, just let me go," she begged again.

"He's a murderer Gracie, we found you on the side of the road, unconscious. He left you for dead! I'm positive he had something to do with all of this mess." She hissed dropping the cloth next to her head.

From the corner of her eyes Vicky would see red blotches on the cloth and panic gripped her.

"Mom," she tried.

She turned, looked down at her and sorrow consumed her expression. Lightly placing her hand over Vicky's arm she patted it and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry honey, I really am," she sobbed.

"Please help me, please mom. I'm in pain, so much pain," Vicky cried trying to lift her hand.

*******

Mrs. Holiday stared at her, and quietly took a seat next to her. The guilt of it all was eating away at her. She couldn't stand to see her Gracie in so much pain. Deep down, she knew that this beautiful woman lying in a bed bleeding to death would never be her real daughter.

She closed her eyes and the memory of the night flooded in, like it did every time she stepped into this very room.

*******

"Gracie, please understand," Mrs. Holiday tried to reason.

"How can you do this, how can you send me off the military!" she exclaimed.

"It's for the best...we don't know what to do with you anymore!" she protested. Mrs. Holiday covered her face and cried in deep sorrow. Why had she been cursed with such a wretched daughter? Night after night, she prayed to the heavens to help her bear with the cross of having a delinquent.

"Well I am not going, and you cannot make me!" she shouted.

"Gracie...I'm pregnant," Mrs. Holiday confessed, hoping it might help ease her down.

"I care cause?" she snorted.

"You are heartless, and I hope the military beats you down emotionally and physically after everything you have made your father and I go through." She replied.

Gracie stomped past her, and in the process shoved her, making Mrs. Holiday almost lose her balance. Fear consumed her as the first through that crossed her mind was the three month baby growing in her womb and out of reaction shoved Grace back. The only thing that came from it all was a snap and the tumbling of Gracie's body on the floor. Horror stricken she watched as the corner of the dresser dripped blood.

"Gracie," Mrs. Holiday whispered trying to inch closer. She didn't move. "Oh God, Gracie," she cried covering her mouth. Vomit worked itself up her throat as she darted out the door.

"What happened?" came the call of Mr. Holiday.

"I didn't mean to, I swear," she cried holding her stomach.

******

Mrs. Holiday opened her eyes and took a deep breath, after checking her for a pulse more than twice they realized that she was truly dead. She feared for Lacy, who was an unborn child at the time. So wrapping the body in several blankets they dragged her to the back of their trunk and drove in hopes of getting rid of her body. They had come across Vicky's wrecked vehicle and the van who laid upside down on the ditch.
A long a lonely road had been the perfect solution for them.

Mr. Holiday had stopped and hurried over to see if there had been any survivors. When he came to find Vicky unconscious inside he made the switch. putting on her jewelry and everything else. Igniting the car on fire they sped off in hopes of never having to hear from that mess again. They moved to Journey a little after they had put the house up for sale and kept the cabin.

"I'm not a murderer by choice, it was an accident, she hit her head on the corner of the dresser. I didn't mean to do it," she cried.

Suddenly the door was slammed open and in walked Mr. Holiday. His face looked tired, drained off all strength and if possible much, much older.

"How much longer," he asked.

She lifted her head and stared into her husband's eyes.

"No much, she won't stop bleeding." She sighed.

*****

Vicky choked on a cry and closed her eyes trying to calm her trembling body. Her strength was draining by the minuet and her vision was becoming all the more darker as she tried her hardest to clear her sight.

"Heaven, help me." Vicky cried.

"Shh, try not to move, its alright. Everything is going to be alright."

The voice turned into a slow growl as her eyes rolled to the back of head and a single sight escaped her.