Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (reading strategies book TXT) 📕

She froze, the sight of it was pitiful, her attractiveness was slipping. “As you know, she’s not set to return yet.”

He watched her. You don't know anything about true fear. “Don't worry. I'll wait till she's back and I'll get in contact. Thank you so much for your help.”

The receptionist seemed powerless as he stalked through the double doors. Things were finally falling into place the way they were meant to. The hunter headed back to his truck eyeing the figure in the passenger seat. The people ambling past couldn’t see her.

“Stop staring at me,” he said as he slotted into the driver’s side.

“He's hurt,” she whispered, her voice was soft and tender.

The hunter sighed heavily and yanked on the mask from the drop-down drawer.

“Why do you have to wear that thing?” the ghost asked. “It’s frightening.”

You don't know my history. He ignored her, turning to the muffled sounds behind him. The body in the back of the truck was moving, writhing and worming from the restraints. He wasn't sure whether he was a boy or a man. Regardless of his age, he suited the essentials. Tall, dark hair, blue gaze. Just like him. This will send a message.

The body squirmed and screamed, there was blood dripping from his head. His mouth was spluttering from the gag he'd lashed around his mouth. The tears were dripping from his eyes, pleading with him. It was making the hunter angry, he had to stay on task and this was delaying everything. He bashed his gloved knuckles against his temple and the body flopped immediately limp.

“Why did you have to hurt him?” The ghost shrieked. “He wants to be free!”

“He hurt me too!”

“He was defending himself.”

“Anna, you need to be quiet. I need him for my plan. Just like I needed you.” The hunter got up to his feet, taking off his mask, he could breathe again. “I don't want to hurt you, but you need to give me some space. Please.”

“Hurt me?” She laughed. “You killed me.”

Stripe waited until the room was quiet. She watched Sofia’s little chest rise and fall and her tiny fingers clenched into her dark hair as she slept. Stripe made sure the baby monitor was working and she walked back to her room.

“Sofia’s asleep,” she said. “Isaac, for the love of God, say something. I’m not used to you being so quiet.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his pale fingers clenching into his hair when he looked up. “What am I supposed to say? I've just found out my birth mother was a crack whore who gave me up to some fucked up scheme which set out to exploit, abuse and hurt me. What type of person would willingly hand their own flesh and blood over to monsters? What type of grandparent would go along with it?”

“I don’t know. She might’ve been fed the wrong information.” Just like how he lied to me, and to mom.

“This is ridiculous. All of it.”

She’d memorised the tape Isaac had shown her. Every single shudder, every time the tape crackled, the way her father hit Isaac without a flinch of concern. I still can't believe my father was partly responsible for all of this. Stripe sat next to Isaac on the edge of the bed. “I’ve tried to find out more about your father, but there's been very little source. I had to scrape at the seams to discover Heather Blair.”

“I don’t want to know who my father is. I have a father already.”

Stripe frowned. “But you need answers.”

Isaac stood up in a jolt, his eyes wide in insult. “No, you want answers! You want to see where and how far this rabbit hole goes, but I don't. I want to forget about this and move on. I have a successful business, a beautiful home. Grace and Ted Payne, a real mother and father who love me and colleagues who respect me. This whole thing, what I am, Kaltheia is my business and not yours!”

His words ached like a deep pain in her chest. But the way Isaac recoiled, she knew he didn't mean it. Stripe could’ve handled it by throwing a lamp or kicking him, but that wouldn't have been any use. She’d tried strangling him once, used all of her strength and he didn’t lose breath. Stripe stood up so she was on the same level. “Kaltheia became my business the second you drugged my coffee, the moment you pressed play on that cassette tape. If you’re being so protective, you shouldn’t’ve let me in to all of this. I had a baby with the man who killed my father. A man who has ripped my childhood to pieces. When I was at college, nobody wanted to know me, some of them were too frightened to even approach me.” She felt tears of anger wanting to erupt but she didn't want Isaac to see. “Yes, I know my dad was a monster to you, but he's still a part of my family. So excuse me for being a good reporter. We're the people who put the wrong things right and piece broken people back together.”

She moved to distance herself but Isaac caught her, curling his arm around her waist. Her mouth was immediately smothered with his and she could taste his desperation. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want you to dig. No good will come of it.”

“I had to,” Stripe replied. “This is how I grieve. I have to know the truth.”

“You won’t like it, Stripe.”

“I don’t like it already.”

“I’m sorry this is happening,” Isaac whispered. “I need you.”

“I need you too.”

Isaac pushed her down into the bed, her arms snaked around his neck. The passion between them mapped the same back at his house. Stripe wrapped her fingers into the back of his hair, pulling him to her. She pressed herself against him so much it hurt, so much she could feel his heartbeat trembling against her own.

Isaac's lips moved