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Story: Gabe (Protection #2)
GABE
Six months ago
S tepping out of my truck, I grab the small bundle of Birdsfoot trefoil yellow flowers from the passenger seat.
In the early morning hours a couple of days ago, I gave up on trying to fight the nightmares and started to research flowers.
Why? I hoped it would bore me enough to get some sleep, but then I came across these beautiful little flowers.
While beautiful, they symbolize something that many see as tainted and dark.
Revenge.
According to the internet, the small yellow flower was given its meaning in the Victorian Era.
For almost six months, I’ve been on this path of revenge.
Driven by an uncontrollable need to get justice for the one person I was supposed to protect with my life.
An idea bloomed that night, just like these flowers bloom every year.
The idea will not help me find answers, nor will it bring back my girl, but I’m hoping it will help me settle the rampant anger constantly coursing through my veins, even for a small moment.
Which is why I’m here, the woods that surround me offer no view of the night sky.
The only light is a small beam coming from the flashlight I’m holding.
The knowledge that Tara, my girlfriend, was here in this same place, around the same time during the night, causes my shoulders to drop—as if an invisible weight has settled on them.
I don’t have to question if she was scared or in pain because, unfortunately, I know the answers.
I’ve seen the video that was recorded that night.
The small weather-worn, almost decaying shed comes into my small beam of light.
I want to burn this place to the ground, and someday I might do that, but right now, it has to stay standing.
Its four walls have to continue to hold secrets, heartache, and so much pain.
If only in the hopes that one day, it will give me the answers I truly desire.
Answers to a question that I refuse to let go.
Where is Tara?
Because I know—deep in my heart—that she isn’t dead.
As I place the flowers in front of the door I promise to not only find her, but to find anyone and everyone left who might have hurt her and bring them to their knees.
Before I leave I walk to the back of the shed and take a piss on the final resting place of the guy who hurt my girl and wonder if he was it or if there are more people out there?