Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,25

thinking about buying in a subdivision.

I ended up in the library. My eyes followed the four walls, filled from floor to ceiling with books, as I finally found something of Cam. It was obvious that even his massive book collection couldn’t fill all of the library’s space, and between his worn and tattered scavenged copies of the classics, there were newer editions marked by the perfect spines and untarnished colors.

On the table in the center of the room, a pristine copy of The Girl in the Yellow Dress screamed up at me. I was drawn to the book, and for the first time ever, I reached out to pick it up. It was lighter than I’d thought it’d be for something weighed down by all of my demons.

I watched my hands open the novel, as if they were acting without my consent, and I cringed at the ugly crack that came from the previously unopened book’s spine. Curiosity spurred me forward as my eyes ran over the first words.

To the girl in the yellow dress,

I remember the first time I saw you. You were incomparably beautiful – the perfect nose, perfect eyes, perfect pouting pink lips – but even your perfection could not justify what made you truly exquisite.

I coveted you instantly in your shining yellow dress-

I closed the book with a resolute snap. I don’t even remember owning a yellow dress. The color had never done anything for my complexion.

I’d read enough to know that whatever was in that book didn’t tell the whole story. It couldn’t possibly. It might be filled with all my dirty little secrets and shames, but it didn’t tell the truth. I knew it because the truth was not beautiful nor was it exquisite. It was pain, and misery, and more loss than one could hope to perceive.

I left the library, and hurried downstairs and out of the house. It suddenly felt suffocating, and the truth of my current situation was something not even I could ignore.

I was living alone in the house that Cam had built on the carcass of our past. I’d never felt so lonely in my life.

Chapter Five

Declan

The morning still smelled fresh as I rolled down the window of the limousine to stare at the petite blonde girl currently sitting on the curb outside of C.A. Peterson’s sizable home.

“Need a ride, little orphan Annie?” She looked pathetic. It almost dissuaded my desire to ruffle her feathers…almost.

“That’s pretty insensitive considering my situation,” she shot back climbing gruffly to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Cam called me, said you’d be in need of ride.”

Adley didn’t put up a fight, instead walking around to the other door and letting herself into the car without another word. Her lack of feistiness was disconcerting. She was most entertaining when she was all riled up.

“I have five sisters. I’m the youngest,” I said as the car smoothly exited the neighborhood. I wanted her to bite back, but I couldn’t make my intentions too obvious either. The trick was to quietly pour the gasoline, and wait for her to light the match.

“Why are you telling me that?” Her eyes slid seamlessly over the California landscape as we passed, never turning to me. Her tone perfectly emulated one of bored nonchalance.

“Well I know everything there is to know about you, and I thought you might like to know something about me…You know, even out the playing field.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Her eyes snapped to me as she refuted my claim fervently, an ugly scowl fitted over her mouth. “You know one side of a story, from a fictional perspective of things, that may or may not be accurate.”

“So you’re saying that you never got pregnant the very first time you ever had sex? Bloody bad luck by the way…And you didn’t have a baby? I guess that clears up all my questions about the whole adoption thing.”

For a second I’d thought I’d gone too far. Her entire body tensed, and I was sure she was going to slap me. Maybe I even deserved it.

And then she gave me one hard look over, and relaxed…just like that.

She took a deep breath. Her eyes returned to their former attention beyond the tinted glass, and she spoke, “five older sisters, huh? That sounds…colorful.”

“If by colorful you mean I’d worn more eye-shadow by the time I was four than a hooker working the Valley does in a decade, then…yes, it was quite colorful.” I could feel my face becoming