knowledge of each other and years together, gave them a sense of security that I as a newcomer, didn’t feel. I mean, how could I ever expect to find my place when their connection to each other was already so strong?
One night, my fears slipped free from my heart. According to them, they felt like this was how it was meant to be. Because of their steadfastness with each other, they were able to turn all of their focus on me. Pouring every ounce of their love into proving to me that a relationship between the three of us could work. Somehow, through everything, they've managed to love me hard enough that I've even started loving myself.
For a long time, when I looked in the mirror, the only thing I could see were my scars. I lost who I was, and no matter how hard I tried to swim to the surface of my grief, I was always drowning.
Goosebumps spread over my skin as Angel's innocent nuzzles turn into kisses. Jax’s hand moves to my lap and I bear down into his touch. His fingers move to open the button on my jeans when the news once again has us freezing in place.
“Breaking News coming from Iron Gate Correctional Facility today. It has just been confirmed that Chad Manningham, more commonly known as the infamous Holy Sabre, was found dead inside his cell early this morning. Police have yet to comment on the specific details pertaining to his death, but sources say it was a ‘ritualistic style killing’. It’s rumored that similar style killings were committed in a number of unsolved murders surrounding Holy Sabre and his followers.
The story of the Preacher turned Arms Dealer first hit news outlets 11 years ago when it was discovered Manningham was using his church as a front to store, sell, and trade weapons and ammunition. Unfortunately, before he could be detained by police, Manningham set fire to his home, killing his wife Diane and their daughter Elizabeth Oakley.
After evading authorities for more than ten years, Manningham was recently caught and arrested on multiple charges, including two counts of murder. Court documents show that testimony from a classified source made jury deliberations swift; taking less than thirty minutes to decide Manningham’s fate.”
As the reporter continues listing the crimes of my dad, my mind races through the past few months and the actions that brought us here.
Thanks to an anonymous call, authorities were notified that Renshaw, my father’s right-hand man and the person responsible for most of my scars, was hiding out at a truck stop motel just outside of town. Once he was apprehended, he later confessed that he knew where my father was and had actually been sent to kidnap and deliver me to him. After giving up my father’s location, Renshaw was taken into custody and my father was captured by a SWAT team, still alive after all these years.
My father's confession only further proved what a vile and deplorable human being he truly was. Apparently, he and Renshaw had received word that I had not perished in the fire. From this news, his master plan was born. Find me and silence me for good so that I would never be able to incriminate either him or Renshaw.
The day the FBI knocked on our door, I thought Angel was going to have a stroke. Then the agent opened his mouth and revealed that my father was alive, and they needed me to testify to put him away once and for all. Suddenly the roles were reversed, and I was the one about to have a stroke.
After six days of private video calls with an attorney, I’d shared my side of the story. After that, my part was done. From our couch, we watched as the story unfolded for the world to see. The day his sentence was handed down—Renshaw receiving the same—was one of the happiest days of my life.
I’m pulled back to the present when an image comes up on the screen and I freeze. The photograph is merely a single moment captured in time, but the memories it brings send me hurtling back into the past.
My dad's church was always one of my most favorite places in the world. In the photograph on the screen, our congregation stands, surrounding my dad—Pastor Chad Manningham—who stands beside my smiling mom, his face blurred out because of his crimes.
Tucked in close to my mom’s side, wearing a pale blue dress dotted with daisies,