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Isabelle's mind isn't as kind as she remembers. If she closes her eyes, nothing but green eyes and a cold sweat.
That man is as beautiful as he is dangerous.
She cradles the little ball of brown fur curled up on her chest. The gentle, soft fuzz and smell of pet shampoo. The little fellow despised water and clung to her arm the whole time, he hasn't left her side since then.
Logan allows her and her new friend to stay in the apartment. It's in an unfamiliar area, surrounded by trees and shrubs.
The place resembles a hotel. The empty, soul-less abstract art and long hallways with surveillance cameras everywhere. The closet has nothing in it and the sheets were barely touched. A calm wave, existing in a place with no history, living in the present.
Nothing to think about, nothing to worry about.
"I'm feeling better."
She prepares herself a cup of tea. The slow, gentle days of recuperating here and hiding from the world brings an uneasy whirl of shame.
How long has it been, really?
"I brought takeout."
"Logan, you need to eat properly, not just meat all the time!" She said.
"It's one of the few things I can't burn. Unless you'd rather have a bowl of cereal?" He said.
Excuses to not do the dishes is what sounds like it. Isabelle grins.
He snorts and the kitten pounces on him, digging its little paws onto his arm. As she watches the two play a slow, trickling fear settles in.
What if this'll be nothing more than a memory?
She pulls her knees to her chest and he brings a plastic bag over, offering her a box of what smells like a veggie stir fry and fried chicken. Without a second thought she dives in, getting her fingers and chin covered in grease.
What if she can't find her parents? Isabelle shoves the thought to the back of her mind, focused on her grumbling stomach.
The taste of delicious, thick noodles and crunchy vegetables. He puts down a bowl of steamed broccoli with a small plate full of salt.
Her favorite snack!
The cat scoots off, more interested in playing with the door stopper and staring at the ceiling.
Gradually, the colors all around her come to life. The sad, empty gray monochrome she tolerated for days melts away, the sunshine doesn't hurt her eyes anymore.
The spark of joy she thought was gone for good comes back, even if it's barely noticeable. Isabelle will never be the same as before, but it's a start.
No more gleamy, hopeless days. Enough of that.
"Have you given him a name?" He rubs the back of the kittens ears. It has a funny look on his face, as if he ascended to the next level.
He can massage that well? Sign her up.
After they left the mansion, Logan made arrangements as if he was expecting this to happen. Quite convenient he knows a doctor and called in a favor. Surprisingly, it was the very same doctor she talked to when she first met Samuel. She can check that off her bucket list.
"Prince. He acts like he owns the place." She replies. A fitting name for a clingy, four legged brat.
Isabelle drinks all sorts of fluids, even the rehydration drinks meant for children. She likes the sweet, thick taste. It's a faint but happy, memory of her childhood spent in the hospital.
Her first career choice was a doctor or nurse, since they made her feel welcome back then. It was as if she wasn't in a cold, harsh room waiting for terrible news. They even bought her a little rug and some stuffed toys, playing with her for a while.
After she saw how long she'd have to study, and how much, she changed her mind immediately.
To hee delight, the apartment has a working oven. She let go of her thoughts and let her hands do their thing. As Isabelle pops the dough in the oven, she grabs a spoonful of jelly.
It tastes different, that's for sure.
The strawberry jam lost that sweetness from her, well, experiment days. Ma'am Lucia did say the food can feel when a chef is sad. It has this empty, stale mix of flavor on the tongue.
Isabelle dips some of the sweet, soft fruit in chocolate and smiles in satisfaction.
Prince sneaks in, leaving powdered paw prints on the counter, eager to try some and join in whatever his human is up to. Before she can say anything, he runs off with a tiny strawberry towards the bedroom.
As she looks around for the four legged menace, a brown tail catches her attention.
"I can see you, Prince."
He meows in response. Upon making eye contact with her, he rolls over.
He got jam everywhere! Logan wouldn't like this.
She empties out the drawer and wipes down beside table. Hopefully, nothing inside is ruined. If it was, she'd have to toss it and pray he wouldn't look for it. All she finds is a bible, an empty book and a bracelet.
She knocks on the base.
Using an earring, she inserts it on a hole underneath, revealing a fake base.
A photo album?
Isabelle glances around the apartment. Surely he wouldn't mind, yes? He mentioned he loved to travel. She smiles and flips through the album with Prince all cuddled up on her lap, white powder and jam on his fur.
Some beautiful scenery would be great. Perhaps she'd see the mountains or a little bird in a nest.
Unfortunately, it was not what she expected. The first few pictures send the blood rushing to her head.
"No, don't look!"
Isabelle takes one more peek and coveres her face. Prince merely purrs, comfortable.
This is no different that invading someone's privacy.
She covers Prince's little eyes and brings him to his bed. It's basically a mix of plush cushions and blankets in a carboard box beside her mattress.
"Damn it, Jake."
Isabelle rubs her pendant in-between her fingers. She picks at the skin of her lips.
The album teases her, begging to be explored. The curiosity gnaws away at her, her eagerness fighting the shame.
She shouldn't, but she'd like to.
She peels off the dead skin on her lips, a soft pain as it bleeds.
It's a rather intimate collection. Upon closer inspection, she realizes the main subject of all the photos were none other than her brother. Isabelle's amazement for such photos fades the moment she recognized his grin.
But seeing him happy is nice for once, even if he is in his birthday suit.
"Please put that away."
Isabelle jumps out of her skin, slapping the album onto the window with a yelp. Prince clings to her, digging his little claws onto her leg.
"Sorry, I just. He got it dirty and, well, sorry. I was just--" Isabelle stuttered, unsure how to defend herself.
When did he get back?
His empty smile brought a heavy feeling in the air. Terrible lie, but not a complete lie.
"It's fine. They're just pictures, anyway."
Yes, just pictures of two people rubbing against one another. Nothing more, yes.
She rubs her temples.
First it was Santiago and Tristan being involved, now him and her brother.
What's next, her mother and Rosa having history like this as well?
Isabelle wouldn't be surprised at this point. Heck, throw in that officer from the hospital and Samuel having history too.
Go on, fate, do your worst.
"Didn't know you were into binding." She teased, her attention on Prince and his soft brown fur.
"No, that was Jake. His idea." Logan replied.
"Is that why you helped me?"
"I have my reasons, but you being the little sister of my ex is not one of them." He takes the album off the floor and arranges everything. He touches the bracelet, stares at it for a brief moment and puts it away with a sigh.
"He has a girlfriend now. She came by the house before I, well, yeah. Has a baby on the way."
Logan freezes. Prince rubs his head against her leg. He has a ripped up sock in his mouth, eager to play. He drops it on her foot.
This sweet little munchkin.
"I'm thankful that we met. You let me stay here and even cooked for me, no, tried to cook for me. But I've stayed here long enough."
"Isabelle you need to rest--" He tries to argue but she cuts him off. Isabelle has no reason to keep staying here, using him.
Especially knowing he and Jake were lovers once.
Rest would be great. And as she did that, her family and friend would be killed off like flies.
"No, I need to find answers. How I feel doesn't matter." She said.
"Stop!"
She doesn't feel up to the task at all. A blind dive into a world she didn't know existed, right under her nose this whole time. The thick glasses of privilege and sweet, pure ignorance were ripped off and destroyed.
Courtesy of that green-eyed brat.
Now, her perception of the world is no longer rose-colored and shimmery. The world is as it always was, but different somehow. Without the filters, everything comes together. It doesn't make a beautiful picture but a cobweb of lies and blood dripping onto her hands.
Disgusting.
"Thank you for everything."
"Don't do anything stupid, please." He said.
Isabelle throws her head back and laughs. Yeah, right.
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