Rebel Princess - Book 2 (The Hope Saga) Read online

  Brett waved goodbye, and the two of them walked out, letting the door creak shut behind them.

  After hours of practicing my footwork, I settled down on the lumpy bed. It was so quiet down here. Of course I had a lot of peace and quiet when I worked at the greenhouse, but this was different. It was as if they’d put me in time-out, forced me into submission. Still, in the long run, it did give me time to think about my life. I decided it would be in my best interest to just be a good girl and play by their rules. For now.

  Daryl took so long coming back to me with the deck of cards that I fell asleep out of pure boredom. I awoke when the door creaked shut again. I smelled a familiar scent and sat straight up and glanced around me, only to find more pots full of African violets. “Oh my gosh!” I said, my hand darting to my mouth. “But how…”

  I shuddered, as the thought of my secret admirer breaking into my cell to drop off more floral gifts completely freaked me out.

  I got up, ran over, and began banging on the locked door like a girl gone mad. “Daryl!”

  The door creaked open, and he walked inside.

  “How did all these flowers get in here?” I asked frantically. “Why did you let him in? And who is he?”

  “Calm down, Sky,” he said. “It was me. I brought them in.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Wait…they’re from you?”

  “No. I went to get that deck of cards for you, and I saw these sitting by the door when I got back. I figured your aunt dropped them off to cheer you up.”

  I shook my head. “No, they’re not from her.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

  I crossed my arms. “I just…know.”

  “I don’t see why you’re so upset and getting all jumpy. That boyfriend of yours is a really great guy, and he really loves you, so—”

  “They’re not from Brett, Daryl.”

  “Hmm. Well, maybe Carla felt bad and wanted to apologize.”

  I didn’t feel like explaining everything to him. I just stared down at all the purple blossoms, biting my lower lip in anxiety, and a flash of red caught my attention. I reached down and picked up the little card and read it out loud: “You’re mine forever.”

  “Aw. Isn’t Brett the sweetest? I’ll be sure to let him know you got the flowers and—”

  “Please don’t bother. Like I told you, they’re not from him.”

  “But the card says—”

  “I’m well aware of what the card says,” I said softly, meeting his gaze, “but I guarantee it wasn’t Brett who sent these flowers.”

  He cocked a brow. “Then who was it?”

  I swallowed hard. “My stalker.”

  “Stalker?”

  “Yeah. Mr. Tams made Aunt Sarah and I promise not to tell anyone. I guess he thinks there’s enough excitement going on with that strangler on the loose.”

  “I won’t say anything, but tell me more about this stalker.”

  “Well, I have no idea who he is. He came in my room in the middle of the night and left flowers everywhere. I’m not a light sleeper, so I didn’t hear anything, but it’s pretty freaky to think somebody was in my room, maybe just watching me.”

  “He came in your room!? Sky, that’s pretty serious. What kind of nut-job would do that?”

  I shrugged. “I dunno, but Mr. Tams promised that he’ll stay on top of it.”

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “Any of the guys growing flowers in their living quarters?” I asked.

  “I can’t say I’ve noticed any, but I’ll take a look around, especially with our top suspects.”

  “Top suspects?”

  “Yeah, like Brian Nuttem.”

  “Brian? I’m sure he’s harmless, even if his last name does sound crazy.”

  “I don’t know about that. Haven’t you ever noticed the way he stares at you?”

  “Like I said, he’s harmless.”

  “Well, he’s still a suspect till I cross him off my list.”

  “Guilty until proven innocent, huh?” I said, arching my brow. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work, Detective.”

  He smiled and gathered up the potted plants. “I’ll get rid of these for you.”

  “Thanks, Daryl. Just put ‘em where somebody can enjoy them.”

  He looked down at them, and a thought struck him. “Ya know, I’ve been seeing purple flowers like this all over the lounge area.”

  “Violets,” I said. “African violets.”

  “Are they all from your stalker?”

  “Yep. All those flowers are compliments of him.”

  “I wondered who’d tried to…brighten up the area.”

  “If only flowers could talk.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Daryl smiled. “Anytime.”

  Chapter 3

  I was finally released and was glad to be back in my own living quarters.

  My aunt looked at me. “Go tend to the greenhouse. When you’re done, come straight back here. You’re grounded for the day.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Aunt Sarah! Don’t you think jail was enough?”

  “Obviously not, because you just don’t get it. Shooting an arrow at an unsuspecting victim, a bully or not, is entirely unacceptable. What if you’d have shot her in the eye?”

  “I wouldn’t have.”

  “You couldn’t have known that for sure. You might have seriously hurt that girl. Now get to work…and no stopping at Rachel’s or Brett’s either—just to the greenhouse and straight home. You got that?”

  “Fine, but we were supposed to—”

  “Don’t you worry about what you were supposed to do. I’ll tell Brett you’re not coming to movie night.”

  I blew out a long breath. “I miss him so much.”

  “I know, but don’t be mad at me. You did this to yourself.”

  “I didn’t know it was gonna cause this much trouble. I’m sorry. Really.”

  “Well, maybe next time, you’ll think before you pull a dangerous stunt like that. You’re scheduled to go to the surface in less than two years. You need to be on your best behavior.”

  “I will,” I said. “I think I really learned my lesson this time, and it won’t happen again.”

  “You’ll say anything to pacify me, won’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, what do you want me to say?”

  “What you’re really thinking.”

  “You don’t wanna hear that,” I mumbled.

  “Enlighten me,” she said.

  “I love you, but Dante’s not gonna run my life.”

  “So…you shot at one of your classmates to defy your government? Because you long to be free? Is that it?”

  “I want out of here, Aunt Sarah.”

  “And you’ll get out of here when it’s your turn. Your time will be up soon.”

  “I can’t wait that long!”

  “You can, and you will. But for the time being, you’d better learn to keep your opinions of our government to yourself, or you may just be denied your chance, even when you do turn eighteen.”

  “My opinions? Are you telling me you’ve got no problem with them storing us down here like caged rats?”

  “There’s nothing you or I can do about it. We have to accept it.”

  I shook my head. “You and I both know I can’t just sit back and hold my tongue.”

  “If you don’t stop running your mouth, Sky, they’re gonna—”

  “What? Send the strangler my way? If you ask me, he’s working for them. That’s probably why they’re pretending to be incapable of finding him. We live in a freaking bubble, and they don’t have any trouble finding anybody else.”

  “Sky, your stubbornness will get you nowhere but into trouble, and you can’t possibly keep diving in hot water without getting burned.”

  “I don’t care! Scars make me who I am, and I already have a lot of them on my heart.”

 
“So…you’re acting out because…”

  “Because I miss my parents! Dad is gone. And today is the anniversary of Mom’s death. I think I’m entitled to be in pain over that…” I trailed off and began to sob as all the heartaches and pain began to overwhelm me.

  She hugged me and held me tight. “I miss her, too, baby,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

  A tear fell down my face. “I loved her so much.”

  “We all did.”

  “I’m sorry I’m such a pain. You’ve taken such good care of me. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Do you think Mom would be proud of me?”

  She grinned. “I sure do.”

  “That means so much to me,” I said, voice wavering.

  She held me for a long time and said the most comforting words. After I calmed down a bit, she walked out of my bedroom, then left for the movie.

  ***

  A few hours later, I was home from work, but I still couldn’t stop thinking about my mother. I picked up a silver frame from my bedside table and looked at my favorite photograph of the beautiful woman, one of the most wonderful people I’d ever known. “Hi, Mom,” I said. “It’s been a year since you left me. It’s been so…hard without you. It’s hell living without you, Mom.”

  As I gazed at the picture, my mind drifted back to the day she died. On that day, when her gorgeous eyes had fluttered shut, I’d softly sang to her—the lullaby she used to sing to me every night. She’d gripped my hand and, with her last breath, told me it was beautiful.

  I was still dealing with the long, painful process of working through my grief. Sometimes I handled it okay, but then the dark feelings swung around full circle, dragging me all over the place at their own merciless whim. I hated feeling out of control, and I sometimes felt helpless when that dismal feeling had me in its nasty grip.

  I was still literally torn apart by the loss, and the hurt of it often overloaded my senses. As if to mock my pain, precious dreams and memories still flooded my memory. No words could soothe me on that long, painful journey, and all these years later, I still had difficulty facing the fact that my mother would never be part of my life again. I often asked myself, How can I ever face my future when I can’t let go of my past? I’d always questioned my destiny, sought my meaning and my purpose. How? and Why? were the questions that constantly plagued me. My mother had been part of me, and I was part of her, so when she left me, overwhelming sadness and loneliness became my constant companion. Sometimes, not even Brett could help me crawl out of that pit of deep despair.

  “I just want her back!” I said, tossing the photograph aside and sobbing into my blankets. I feared my dark journey to healing would never end, that I would never get over my grief. I wanted nothing more than for my mother to magically reappear and stroke my hair. I could even hear her sweet voice in my head. The magnitude of her loss was too great for me to bear, and it almost brought me to my knees. Brett and Sarah tried to help, but my loss was so private and difficult that I just wanted to push everyone away. Will I ever heal? I wondered. Can I? Will I ever be able to just…move on?

  On those days when my grief flooded over me, when my heart was broken, I physically could not breathe. I wiped my eyes and tried to still my broken heart, but I was trembling, a hot mess if there ever was one.

  I glanced down at the framed picture of my mother that was now lying on my comforter. “Remember that white peace lily we tried to revive, Mom? Well, it was just about dead the day you died,” I said, my voice wavering. “But the next day, it mysteriously revived. I can’t help but think you had something to do with that.” I picked the picture back up and smiled down at her image. With tears dripping down my face and splashing onto the frame, I asked, “Was that you, Mom? Did you do that? Now, whenever I see a lily, I think of you. I-I dream about you sometimes too. It’s so real, like you never really left. You always laugh at my dumb jokes and puns, and we talk about everything, just like we used to.” I let out a long sob as grief consumed me. “I love you so much, Mom. Please tell me what to do to take this pain away, because my heart is aching for you. I remember the way you used to stroke my face and my hair to make me feel better. I wish you were here right now and could take away all my pain like you used to. I just wish—”

  Suddenly, a knock at the door startled me. I rushed into the living room and asked who it was.

  “Sky, it’s me,” a familiar voice said from the other side.

  I opened the door and flung my arms around his neck. “Brett!”

  “I know I’m not supposed to be here. Your aunt told me you’re grounded, but I…well, I figured you might need me right now.”

  I wept as he held me. “I-I wasn’t supposed to lose her till I was old,” I said, sobbing. “That’s how it’s supposed to be. Why did she have to leave me so soon?”

  He spoke so many soft words of comfort and encouragement, his warm breath teasing my ear, but most of what he said was a blur.

  “I-I just can’t stop crying,” I said.

  “You don’t have to, baby,” he said, softly stroking my hair. “Just let it all out.”

  I cried for the longest time, but when I finally opened my eyes again, Brett was handing me a small towel. I wiped my face and held him tighter. “Thanks for being here,” I said. “I need a shoulder to cry on and a hand to hold. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my rock.”

  “And you’re mine.”

  After a while, he had to leave, but I was so thankful he’d sneaked over to visit me. Brett was a good kid who usually followed Aunt Sarah’s rules, but he also knew when I needed him, and he was always there for me. Losing my mom had been the worst thing in the world, and I knew I’d never get over it. But I also knew I’d always have Brett to help me through it.

  Chapter 4

  Later that night, I lay on my bed and shut off the lights. Aunt Sarah and the others were still in the lounge area for movie night, so I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep.

  A little while later, a sudden noise disturbed me from my sleep.

  “Aunt Sarah?” I called.

  No answer.

  “Brett?”

  Again, there was no answer.

  It was pitch dark, and I couldn’t see a thing around me. I jumped out of bed, ran over, and flipped the lights on, then cautiously peered out the door and down the hallway, fearing that I might be about to catch my stalker in the act. “Who’s there?” I called.

  Again, no one answered.

  “Okay,” I whispered to myself. “They’re not back yet.”

  In the next second, I heard more noise, footsteps this time. My breath froze in my throat as I realized that I wasn’t alone, that someone was in the living room, and it wasn’t Brett or Aunt Sarah.

  I didn’t know if I should hide like a coward or confront the intruder. I pondered my options for a quick moment and decided I had to see who was there, even if it was the strangler or my stalker. Fear washed over me, but I frantically searched my room for a suitable weapon and found my spear sitting in the corner. My knees suddenly began to shake as I walked toward the door.

  When I reached the living room, I saw Polaroid pictures strewn everywhere, from the coffee table to the counter. With trembling fingers, I picked one up and studied it. Like all of the other photographs, it was a picture of me.

  The door opened, and I jumped as my aunt and cousins walked in. As she looked around the place, littered with Polaroids, her jaw dropped. “What the…?”

  “He left them,” I said.

  “Go on to your rooms, kids,” my aunt told her children, as she didn’t want them to be frightened. As soon as they were out of earshot, she turned back to me and asked, “What exactly happened here?”

  “I-I’m not sure. I was asleep, and I heard a noise out here. I thought it was you, but you didn’t answer, so I grabbed my spear and came to check. He was gone by then, but he left more flowers and all these weird pictures of me.”


  “Darn it,” Aunt Sarah said, almost the closest she ever came to cursing. “Walter had better haul his butt down here and change that lock.”

  “Mr. Tams said he’d be here in a few days.”

  “Well, from the looks of this, I don’t think we have that long.” She wrapped an arm around me. “Honey, why don’t you go back to bed? It’s late, and I’m home now.”

  “I can’t sleep. I’m too freaked out.”

  “Just try.”

  “Okay,” I said, then turned to walk back to my room.

  When I stepped inside, I noticed that my drawer was slightly ajar. I opened it and saw that all my underwear and bras had been neatly folded, which was not part of our typical laundry routine at all. A chill shot down my spine, and I felt violated and sick to my stomach. “This freak needs to be dealt with,” I mumbled to myself.

  When I opened the next drawer, it was not the way it had been when I’d gone to bed; in fact, the contents of all my drawers had been rearranged entirely.

  In the drawer to the right, I found a note, written on a red card very similar to the one that had been left with the African violets while I was in solitary confinement. My heart fluttered as I slowly unfolded it and read it aloud: “You’re marked for death, but I can change your destiny. Your life is in my hands.”

  I tossed the note down on my bed. “Aunt Sarah!” I called. “Please come quick!” When she didn’t come immediately, I cried out for her again. “Sarah!”

  Finally, she rushed in. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “I…he…look!” I stuttered, pointing to my neatly folded delicates and my rearranged drawers. “He’s been here again,” I said in a panic, handing the note to her. “Why would I be marked for death? By who? The strangler? Is he the strangler? Or is he friends with the strangler? I mean, why would he…they—”

  She let out a long breath and held her hand up to interrupt me from my terrified, wide-eyed rant. “Stay here and lock the door. I need to talk to Mr. Tams this very second.”

  “There’s no need to wake him up.”

  “He’s awake. I just saw him a little bit ago, on my way back from the lounge.”

  “All right.”