Break Us

I had seen colors my whole life. I had lived in color, as Peyton had. I had swum in a soup of confusion and sadness and happiness and fear and love and mystery for as long as I could remember.

That was what it had all been about, really. Power. Bill’s power over my parents. Vanessa’s power over Peter. Luna’s power over Peyton. Even Peyton was playing a power game with her family when she died. And ultimately, it was lack of power that destroyed my family. Not just our lack of power, but Peter Fairchild’s as well. My mother lost her life because he had lost his beloved Vanessa. But where everyone was wrong was in thinking Bill Hollis would always win. In the end, he didn’t. His control, his money-hunger, was his undoing. It was the undoing of all of them. Vanessa finally had her man and lost him to two kids who belonged to my mother and Brandi. Luna finally had her stardom and was in a morgue. Bill Hollis finally had his chance to take me down, and he failed.Was I acting out of power, too? Was that what all this was—this dogged pursuit of answers?
No. No way. I was dragged into this mess. I was made to care about Peyton. I was grieving Dru. I was avenging my mother. But never was I looking for power.
I was looking for closure.

These shoes had been through so much. They’d walked the tile of Peyton’s hospital room. They’d been carelessly discarded by Dru’s bed. They’d stood on his blood. They’d been lost at the beach. They’d been to a swanky dinner in Vegas. They’d strolled with Jones and kicked Luna and chased Peter Fairchild. They’d walked into my new apartment to start a new life, away from the place where my mom died and my dad hid so many secrets.
Some days I thought it was time to get rid of the shoes. Most days, I thought I never would.