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chapter twenty-three izzy and her ghosts
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Her bubble of Chanel sunglasses and Louis Vuitton bags was no more. Izzy Windsor realized that as the van carried down onto the main road and they headed closer to the airstrip. It was an odd feeling, realizing the life you had lived for so many years had just suddenly changed in the blink of an eye. She remembered a time where she had tried to make herself okay with how her life was going, but she had long since abandoned that mindset and replaced it with a new one. Now, she only wanted hope.
Hope for a better future and freedom from life were the things Izzy yearned for. And she was realizing just how attainable those things actually were. It didn't feel like a surreal fantasy anymore. Now, she looked forward to the future, welcoming it with open arms. It didn't pain her to smile anymore, because she knew, no matter what happened, the life in front of her was hers to pave and no one else's. And that was all she had ever wanted—to create a future she wanted.
But as the van headed onto a road hidden by trees, she feared she was making the wrong decision. Truthfully, she was scared because she wasn't sure if her father had meant what he had said. There was no way of telling. And a part of her cared. It was the part of her that remembered the version of her father who would make her laugh until her stomach hurt. Because truth be told, no one was entirely evil. People were composed equally of bad and good. And maybe that was why she felt a sense of melancholy wash over her as the van distanced further and further from her estate.
She wondered if she really had it in her to put to rest the life she used to live. She wondered if she had enough willpower to abandon the money she had used to happy herself happy. Sure, it never really did the trick, but hell, she could still worry about it if she wanted to. But, the thing was . . . it wasn't really about the money. She was more so concerned about letting her father go. He was her father, after all. She had lost too much already, and sure, she never really had him in the first place, but it still hurt to imagine a life without a father. It felt like he was dead. But he wasn't dead. Not that any of that really mattered, considering he still haunted her, looming over her shoulder like a ghost she couldn't lay to rest. She supposed he'd always be there in the back of her mind, but he wouldn't rule her life. This life was hers, not his, and she wouldn't let him win.
