Dauntless Angel

2. Home Sweet Home-1

HOME SWEET HOME

When we rolled up into the drive of our home in Jeffery’s Lincoln, my eyes froze. I stammered over my words. “T-t-tis-this can’t be our house!”

“It sure is. We live in style. There’s no better place than the Garden District.” Jeffery bubbled with pride. “I told you, les bons temps rouler!” (let the good times roll!)

“I hope so, Jeffery. I truly hope so.” I endeavored to put on a happy face, but in the core of my spirit, my glee had taken absence. I didn’t want to be a Debbie Downer. I wanted to believe better days were ahead.

Despite my good intentions, I had my doubts. I might be physically free but my heart still was shackled. I didn’t know if I’d ever recover. I reckoned time would tell.

I blew out a raspy sigh as the memories of that day rushed through my mind. Sally’s sick laughter still lingered in my ears as much as the sting of Aidan’s arms wrapped tightly around my body.

To this day, my brain seemed riddled with holes, and because of that, the seeds of doubt were planted, giving me pause to Aidan’s involvement. My captor’s cowardly face remained obscured while his hand bared a diamond ring. The very same ring that haunted me in my dreams ever since I was a child.

Then everything went black, and my life came to a screeching halt. That was my last memory of that shattering day. When I’d awakened, shackled, I realized that my happiness had ended forever.

Jeffery parked the car in the garage that was off to the side toward the back of the house and cut the engine. He then turned to me with his bright face, “This is it!”

“Huh, what?” I stared at Jeffery as though I was listening to him underwater. His voice sounded muffled.

“Stevie, you sure you’re okay?” Jeffery scrutinized my facial expression as I stared back at him blankly.

“I just need rest.” The strength I once had seemed to have been depleted. I reckoned when the drugs washed out of my system, I’d feel better. Still, I doubted the old Stevie, full of piss and vinegar would return. She died the day Aidan and Sally had taken her captive.

I reckoned I’d have to deal with that later.

Now I had to face the hard facts. I paid a heavy price for my faith. As a result, the only thing I understood was revenge, it was the air I breathed. Torment was the fuel that kept me going. Anger was my inspiration. Yet the force beneath my feet was… rage.

If I were smart, I’d move on. With the wealth that had been kindly bestowed upon me, I should make a new life for myself, leave the past in the past. Nevertheless, no amount of money could buy my way out of this baleful maze.

My gut kept telling me that Aidan’s family wasn’t finished with me. After all, I took away their precious chance of world domination by infusing my powers with Aidan. I prayed my instinct was wrong. I wanted to be done with them, once and for all.

A gnawing memory kept tapping at my brain, a flash of visions I couldn’t recognize. It felt as though I’d forgotten something, but what? Could it be another bad memory of that hospital locked away in my drug-hazed brain trying to dig its way to the surface? If so, I preferred for it to remain buried, or even better…dead.

“Boo, let’s get you in the house.” Jeffery came to my side and opened the door. He gently slid his arm around my waist and eased me out of the car. I guessed I was weaker than I thought.

“I’ll have Dom fix you something good to eat. You startin’ to look more pale, even for your white lily skin.” He smiled sweetly, but by the bags under his eyes, I think he could’ve used some of his own advice.

I worried that I was the source of his sleepless nights.

As we made our way to the house, I couldn’t peel my eyes away. It was breath taking. A vision only in a magazine. Majestic and mystique, the century old mansion stood tall as if it were awaiting for our arrival, merely painted white, with black plantation shutters embellished the narrow windows along the front porch.

Ancient avenues of oaks lined the street, offering its cool shade as crepe myrtles colored the air with sweet perfume. The wonderful scent reminded me of Saint Ann Street, my old neighborhood back in Tangi.

This house, in comparison to my previous home, was no small fry. After all, it didn’t get much better than the Garden District. Jeffery led me past the wrought iron fence, leading up a flight of brick steps that seemed eternal and just passed the steps, on the porch hung oversized ferns swaying gently to the light breeze.

The yard was small, yet its luscious green was inviting. Suddenly, I yearned to run my bare feet across its thick carpet. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt the cool touch of grass between my toes.

Tears began to sting, and I quickly wiped the moisture from my eyes. I wanted to hang on to my last shred of dignity until I was in private.

On the left side of the porch, I noticed a white-wicker swing with fluffy pillows of yellow and on the right side a wicker table with multi-colored chairs matching the flowers from the garden.

When we entered the house, the aroma of food floated in the air. Instantly, my nose kicked in from the delicious tang, taunting my growling stomach. Dom must have been stirring up a big meal. I couldn’t wait to eat. The perks living with a chef.

Then my attention shifted to the grand foyer. A sweetness scented the room of gardenias in a glass vase, centered on top of a round table made of dark Mahogany, under the three-tier chandelier.

I stood there for a moment, gaping at the elegance. This was beyond my imagination. Stunned for words, I twirled around, slowly taking in the awe.

As Jeffery nudged forward, we entered into the sitting room. Sunlight filtered through the windows, bringing a wonderful warmth to the room. I spotted a grand piano sitting in the corner by the picture window. Soft accented chairs and a white stuffy couch nestled the cozy fireplace, in conjunction with bright Persian rugs adding color and elegance to the dark-wooded floors. Artistic paintings hung strategically on every wall, lending the home that good old Southern charm.

“Jeff, everything is so amazing.” Tears began to fall regardless of my effort to hold them back.

“C’mon. Let’s get you some food, then I’ll show you your room upstairs. Dom and I fixed it up nicely for you.” Jeffery smiled, trying not to show his unease.

“That sounds great.” My smile felt hollow.

Suddenly, a faint meow came from underneath the piano. I glanced down and caught a glimpse of a large white puff of fur rubbing against the stool. My eyes went wide. “Is that…?”

“It sure is, and you best be thankin’ me too. That damn cat and I do not get along. He’s nothin’ but trouble,” Jeffery grumbled.

Surprisingly, I laughed, and Jeffery’s eyes glistened. It was nice to see his old spark back.

As soon as Snowball heard my voice, he came running to me. I grabbed my beloved cat into my arms and nestled him against my chest. His gentle purr felt soothing. I’d forgotten how much I loved that sound.

This time a flood of tears poured down my cheeks, not sad ones but joyous ones, the kind I hadn’t had in such a very long time. I was home. I lifted my eyes. “Jeff, thanks!” I could barely speak above a whisper.

His deep-golden face beamed as he leaned in giving me a quick squeeze. “C’mon before Dom decides to skin me alive. That cranky Frenchman has been waitin’ all day to see the likes of you. Besides, I’m hungry.”

Unaware, for the first time in a long while, I felt numb. Numb was good.

Hence, regardless of how good everything seemed right now, I wasn’t fully myself. It would take time to heal. My mind seemed to drift into nowhere-land, a vast desert of sand and tumbleweeds. I had no idea how long it might take to recover…if ever.

I possessed a stockpile of troublesome, but there was one thing I was certain of that being here in this lovely home with Jeffery and Dom was the right path in my recovery, or at least for now. I still needed to be mindful of their safety and the risk they were taking having me in their presence.

When we stepped into the kitchen, I was swooned by several mixtures of spices, kicking up my grumbling stomach a notch. I paused taking in the delightful aroma. Common to most Southern homes, the kitchen was at the back of the house. The bright gallery came equipped with all the modern amenities blended with that old-world charm. The Wolf-stove seemed to be the focal point of the room, and the oversized stainless steel refrigerator promised a heavy stock of assorted foods. I especially liked the pictured windows bringing in the outside to the indoors. The space had everything one would need, inviting and cheery as the rest of the house.

Dom, in his white stained apron, turned from the stove, and quickly his pencil-lined mustache stretched across his face into a bright smile. “Oh, how wonderful! The mistress of the house has returned.” The chunky chef gathered me into his arms and hugged me tightly. He then held me at arm’s length, eyeing me from head to toe like a father inspecting his soiled child from a day’s play. “Look at you!” he tisked, making a clicking sound with his tongue. “You must eat. Come. Sit,” he urged in his heavy French accent pointing to a round table directly in front of the far-left window. He pulled a chair out as I followed his lead and sat down. “I have made a feast for you, but I think perhaps you might eat something not so rich for the tummy, yes?”

Before I’d uttered a word of protest, Dom padded off, in short, returning with a bowl. He placed it on the table in front of me. “This is much better. Eat,” he insisted, air swatting me.

I glanced down at the steamy curls drifting to my face and savored its salty aroma…chicken soup. Instantly, a smiled touched my lips as I looked up into Dom’s gentle face. “It smells delicious. Thank you.” I reached for my spoon.

Jeffery sat a glass of milk and a mug of Coca-Cola on the table beside me. He patted my shoulder, “Boo, drink both of these,” he advised. “You is startin’ to look even more pasty than normal.” Disquiet painted his face.

My hand instantly touched my face. “I am?”

Jeffery’s nose crinkled. “I know you is naturally pale but damn!”

My good friend always knew how to flatter a girl. Some things never changed.

I flashed him a black look.

Jeffery was right. My skin looked haggard. During my confinement at Haven, the food provisions severely lacked. In fact, I couldn’t recall eating, unless drugs were part of the food group.

Only a unique type of employees worked at Haven. monsters, I called them. Not your typical Southern-hospitality kind of folks. Their behavior was pernicious.

I assumed the Family handpicked each and every employee. I couldn’t imagine any decent person working in that torture chamber they called a hospital.

I shivered. The abuse, a vision I wanted to forget.

I once feared the men in black. That changed the minute I stepped foot in Haven. The men in white were far worse, the orderlies. They took the meaning of sinister to a whole different level.

Even under my murky mind, I recalled how the boys in white got their rocks off. Every round, they gathered around my bed cheering on the nurse who had the pleasure of administering the drugs. Because I didn’t cooperate, the boys took great enjoyment holding me down and prying my mouth open and stuffing a fist of meds down my throat.

I hated them and plotted their death, with a simple butter knife. I took some sick pleasure envisioning their murders. I never acted on it, but just the same, the desire persisted.

The orderlies often reported to the charge nurse, Betty, concerning my defiant behavior. Unfortunately, my reprisals fell upon unsympathetic ears. Nurse Betty favored her staff, condoning their ill-patient care.

After her precious boys kept coming back with busted-up lips and scratched-up faces, the nurse took matters into her own hands. That was when she pulled out all the stops, shackles, and a straitjacket.

Several months later, the doctor begrudgingly took a moment out of his busy schedule of snorting coke and watching porn in his office to examining my festering foot. It was the latest topic among the orderlies. The heavy shackles were too tight, cutting off circulation. From the lack of proper cleaning, infection set. If I’d been anywhere else, I would’ve been hospitalized. Ironic though, I was in a hospital. If that was what one called it.

Dr. Phil Good and Haven feared imprisonment for their sadistic care. Thanks to the doctor’s paranoia, he ordered the nurse to remove the shackles, and I received the proper medical attention.

Betty and her minions didn’t seem too pleased with the doctor’s orders. Despite the doctor’s wishes, they were determined to keep at least half of me constraint. Happily abiding by the orders of Nurse Betty, the orderlies kept me in a straitjacket for safety measures.

Still, I took some sick delight laughing in their faces when they had to remove the oppressing steel.