Page 47 of Doxed
We’ve had to lie low the last few days, which isn’t much different from my usual day to day.
We haven’t left the house and Briar has stayed in her room for the majority, only coming out to eat or take a walk around the property.
She’s kept in touch with her friends from the club, and she tells me they’re doing as well as can be expected after what they went through.
The same thing I put Briar through. How am I ever going to earn back her forgiveness?
It’s about time we leave the house; we have been cooped up too long, and I think Briar is getting restless waiting for the next auction. And I've also had no luck finding the remaining four girls that are missing.
My knuckle raps on Briar’s bedroom door lightly, and I wait for her to answer. She answers in light blue, oversized button up that’s undone with matching little shorts, and a tiny lounge bra that barely contains her round tits.
“Let’s get out of here, go get some food and go somewhere to eat.
” I set my hand against the doorframe, trying to adopt a casual stance, but I feel anything but.
I don't know how to act around her, or what to do. I want to wrap her up in my arms and keep her there forever, but she doesn’t want that.
But I know she wants me. She can’t hide that, no matter how much she fights and denies it.
The sleeves of her shirt fall over her knuckles, and she crosses her arms over her chest. The fabric sways as she juts her hip out. “Okay,” she breathes.
We head down to the garage together and Briar eyes me wearily as I open the passenger door to my Porsche for her.
I chew the inside of my lip and glare lightly at her.
She pulls her lips between her teeth and slides into the seat.
I got it back after I sent her away, and I'm not mad at her anymore for running off with it.
Still not gonna let her know that, though.
The car roars to life, and the radio starts to play “HER” by Chase Atlantic as we roll out of the underground garage and onto the drive.
After a thirty minute drive, we arrive at the small cemetery on the outskirts of Merrill Hill. The tires roll to a stop; the gravel crunching as they grind together beneath them, and Briar levels me with a glare after I put the car in park. “You’re joking, right?”
“Nope.” I cut the ignition and step out of the car, taking the plastic bag of food and a large outdoor blanket with me.
“A fucking cemetery doesn’t exactly incite trust after what you did,” she hisses, still from the passenger seat.
“Quit being a pussy and get out of the car, Briar. We’re not here for you!” I call over my shoulder as I pass the faded stone headstones on my way through.
Eventually, I hear her soft footsteps on the grass behind me, and when I get to my destination, I set the food on the ground and lay out the blanket.
Briar stills beside the headstone I’m sitting in front of, her eyes wide as she stares at the names.
“Sit down,” I instruct, pulling the food out of the bag and opening the styrofoam containers to see which meal is whose.
“Why would you bring me here?” she asks as she sinks to the ground on her knees, not even reaching for her food.
I take a bite, relishing the rich flavors of the noodles and vegetables, thinking over my answer. I knew why I brought her here, but I didn't know how to put it into words. “I come here a lot, and I guess I just wanted to share that with you.”
“Do you really think I should be here?” her voice drops to a whisper, like she’s afraid she’ll wake the dead.
“You didn’t kill my parents, Briar. Your dad did.” I push her food toward her so she’ll relax and eat.
“I never got to introduce my parents to a girl, and you’re the only girl I've ever wanted to know them.” I try to say into the light breeze, hoping it’ll carry my confession away and she won’t hear me.
It didn’t work. “What were they like?” She finally lifts the plastic fork to her mouth and watches me.
I take my time chewing, thinking back on the distant memories of my childhood.
I try not to think about it much, because it always ends in the same hurt.
But this time, sharing these memories with Briar, I don't feel the crushing weight of grief hanging over me like a cloud. “More in love than I’ve ever seen anyone before. My dad lived for my mom, absolutely worshiped her. And my mom,” I pause, smiling for the first time at the memories.
“She would light up when my dad was around. She was a cheerful person, but his presence made her radiant, and she smiled constantly.” Briar shifts closer to me, moving from her knees to her ass as she gets comfortable on the thick blanket.
“They really were best friends. My mom loved planning vacations for us, or just day trips to see things. And my dad was always happy to pack the car and take us on adventures.” I stare at the grey headstone.
The flowers in vases on each side are on their last week, and I need to bring more out to replace them.
“I wish I had appreciated it more, but sometimes I just wanted to hangout with my friends on the weekend, not drive four hours to go see a waterfall.”
Briar sways into my shoulder, bumping it with hers. “Don’t beat yourself up over that. I think all kids feel that way when they’re young.”
Shaking my head, I let myself bare it all in front of her. “I don't think they’d be very proud of me, especially lately. Actually, I think they’d be pretty disappointed in me. Probably rolling in their graves right now at my actions with you.”
She’s quiet for a long time, and I don't expect her to say anything, but she does. “I agree that your actions were deplorable, but your reasons were.” She licks her lips, thinking over her words. “Understandable. There were better ways to handle the situation, but I can empathize.”
I turn to her, abandoning my container on the blanket. “I was wrong.” My eyes bore into hers, praying to every fucking god that she can see the sincerity in them.
“You were,” she agrees.
I move her plate to the blanket too and take her hands in mine. “I’m so fucking sorry, Briar. I wish I had gotten my head out of my ass before it was too late, before I ruined a chance for us.”
She chews on her bottom lip and looks at the blanket. “Me too.”
I let go of her hands and run my fingers through her silky hair, wishing I could pull her to me for a kiss, before I let go of her and hand her food back to her.
We sit together for a few minutes, eating quietly as the birds flew overhead and sang, their songs drifting with the wind through the cemetery. “Will you tell me more stories about them?” Briar’s sweet voice breaks the buzzing in my ears, regret and shame ringing loudly in my mind.
Nodding, I tell her story after story, trip after trip, everything that I remember about my parents, until the sun sets.
When I'm packing up our stuff, collecting all of our trash into the plastic sack and folding up the blanket, Briar speaks again. “Thank you for introducing me to them. I wish I could have met them for real.”
Looking up, my movements stop as Briar runs her hand over the rough top of my parents’ headstone. I watch as she softly smiles down at them, and I feel like someone has a vice-like grip on my heart. “Me too,” I choke out and look away, finishing with the blanket.
“Can we come back?” She takes the blanket from me as I stand up and I nod mutely.
Briar has no idea how she’s just changed my entire world with that one question.