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chapter twenty isadora windsor
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Isadora Windsor.
Her name was the last thread connecting her to her old life. It was the final tether; the last straw. And she wished so desperately to take a pair of scissors and cut herself free. It was what she wanted. But her father held the scissors which would fulfill all her dreams, and she would have to rip them from his bare hands in order to snap the thread in two.
Isadora Windsor—her connecting tether. It was her name. The one thing that she used to hold near and dear to her heart. For a long time, it was the only thing she had; the only thing she needed.
Windsor, Windsor, Windsor. But it wasn't just a name. It never had been just a name. It was a legacy; a legacy her father expected her to carry on. But Izzy didn't want to be a prophetic child. She didn't want to be the golden girl. Because she wasn't. She was Izzy Windsor and her name only made her feel like a Barbie doll sitting in the window of a store, desperately waiting for someone to pick her and determine her worth. But she didn't need that anymore . . . because she knew her worth. She wasn't some quick curl barbie. She was Izzy Windsor, and she was made of flesh and bone, not hollow plastic.
In the past few weeks or so, Izzy had found people like her. She had found people made of flesh and bone, and she never wanted to let them go. They may have been nobodies—the outcasts of the Outer Banks, if you will—to everyone else in Figure Eight, but they meant something to her. Hell . . . JJ Maybank was a nobody, but he made Izzy Windsor feel like someone . . . which made her think that maybe titles and names didn't mean shit. Maybe it was more about the person.
She believed that, too.
She thought that a title or a legacy connected to a name didn't mean anything if the person attached to the title wasn't worthy of its praise. Her father would disagree, but William Windsor was a lying asshole. He hadn't even been to the house once since summer began. He didn't deserve to be praised. All he had ever done was ruin his daughter by ripping her to shreds and turning her into a carbon copy of her mother. And Izzy . . . well . . . Izzy didn't want anything to do with the Windsor name if it meant being connected to him. She'd rather spend her days and nights with the only people who had ever accepted her.
