I know what you're thinking...
That the next part will be filled with tragedy, grief and other depressing shit.
But I promise, it's not that bad. Things actually took a
turn for the better, at least for a while…
Even though I had to deal with that disgusting bastard for a
few years, Apparently the "fruit" had ripened and gone past his taste. By the
time I was thirteen, my body had started changing, and I guess he'd had his
fill.
Which, to the "fruit," in question was a welcomed relief.
During that time, my mom had another daughter, Lilly.
Strange, considering there were no men around our house except John and Pastor
Taylor. And John had… very specific tastes, so it wasn't him. But that's a
story for another day.
We moved out of that small town and into the big city. It was like stepping into another world. Lynn became a hairstylist for a singer,
which meant more money. A lot more. We ended up in a five-bedroom house—a small
mansion—in a wealthy neighborhood. It had two clubhouses, one on either side of
the community, and it had tons of subdivision neighborhoods inside one.
At that moment, I was gushing. I'd never seen anything like it. I never did get the chance to fully explore it. But it was secure, safe, and beautiful.
Those gates and HOA approved security officers on their fancy golf carts made sure of it.
And by then, I'd figured out how to take care of my hair after it grew back. Turns out I had nice curls. Not just frizz. Who knew?
The internet, am I right?
I learned a lot about myself, how to manage what was happening to me, how to change or accept it. I felt like life was going to be
different. Better in that fancy gated community.
Once we settled in over summer break, our new neighbors came over to greet us.
Janet and Ross.
Janet was slim, with loose strawberry-blonde curls, a deep
tan, and a smile so warm it was infectious. The kind that made you want to
smile back. The kind that creased her eyes and made you trust her. You could
tell it was sincere.
"Hello! I'm Janet, this is my husband, Ross—"
She pointed to the tall man beside her. He had short dark curls, glasses, and a freckled face. He gave a small smile and casual wave.
"And you are?"
Lynn smiled back, looking more at ease than I'd seen her in a long time. Moving out of that town had taken some weight off her, though I
wasn't about to test her tolerance. No daily beatings. No constant insults. No
problems. It was like I'd become
invisible to her.
And honestly, that was fine. I'd stopped desperately trying to prove myself to her after that day.
"I'm Lynn. This is Michael—" she said, pointing to one of my brothers. Fifteen, about five-foot-eight, athletic and open. He flashed them a smile.
"Nice to meet you both."
"And this is Rhea." Lynn said as she pointed to me.
I smiled shyly, waving while holding my little sister on my hip. Still uneasy with trusting new people.
Trauma, you know.
But Ms. Janet's smile stayed warm and sincere.
"How cute are you? Nice to meet you, Rhea."
Her eyes dropped to the toddler I was holding as she squatted down with a smile.
"And who's this?"
"That's my other daughter, Lilly. She's almost three, and i've told Rhea over and over not to hold her like this. She's a big girl now."
Lynn's voice was teasing, but embarrassing As she took Lilly from me and set her down. If she didn't want me holding Lilly, then maybe she
should've actually taken care of her instead of brushing her off on me.
"And my oldest, Reggie, is inside unpacking a few boxes."
By "unpacking boxes," she meant sitting in his room, playing
video games or jerking off like he did every day.
He was an embarrassing shut-in.
Lynn tilted her head. "And what about you? Do you have kids?"
Janet blinked, then tapped her temple playfully, like she'd forgotten about her family, so engrossed in our family, she'd forgotten her own. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Boys! Ross, go get them, please, dear."
Ross opened the door and called them.
Their three sons came out one by one. Dylan, the youngest, eight. Brandon, the middle, thirteen. Jacob, the oldest, sixteen.
Introductions were awkward, but overall, they were nice. Especially Janet. She'd always wanted a daughter, so she zeroed in on me right away, always inviting me over.
"Rhea! Please come in. I made cookies. Do you like
molasses?"
I shrugged and mumbled unsure. "I don't know…"
Her eyes widened, and she gasped. "You've never tried molasses cookies? Oh, you'll love them. Here, dear."
She handed me one. I bit into it. It was so Soft, warm, just the right amount of sweet. My eyes went wide. It was so good.
She smiled knowingly. "Want another?"
God, I did. But in my house, eagerness got you punished.
Don't beg. Don't take too much. Don't be greedy. Especially not from outsiders.
She must've read my hesitation because she nudged the plate closer.
"It's okay. The boys don't have much of a sweet tooth. It'll just be me and you eating them. Have as many as you like."
I looked around like Lynn could somehow sense my "transgression," then finally took one.
Janet clinked her cookie gently against mine, like we were
toasting wine glasses.
We both ate, and for the first time in a long time, I felt welcomed.
By the way—
I know you didn't ask, but I fucking love molasses cookies now.
So by this point, me and Janet had "girl time" hangouts on the regular. She honestly felt more like a mom than Lynn ever did. Warm,
patient, happy. Her house was a reprieve. A safe pocket I could escape to.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, I developed my
first crush.
Her second son. Brandon.
He was cute—dark curly hair like his dad, that soft smile
like his mom. And he was awkward, kind of nerdy, which I liked.
"Hey, do you like games?" he asked me shyly once, after I'd been hanging out with his mom. "I normally play with my brother, but he's out with friends. It's really simple, just—"
He explained while I held the controller, the two of us sitting on the couch. We played for over two hours.
I felt seen.
I felt happy.
Maybe it was just the lack of positive attention in my life—attention that wasn't transactional, manipulative, or predatory. Maybe it
was because he was my age. Either way, I was enamored with him.
I might've laid it on too thick, though.
I was at their house every chance I got. Spending more time
with Brandon than even Janet. She didn't mind; she thought it was "cute." My
first crush. But Brandon? He was weirded out.
The way I tried to sit closer to him. How I found excuses to
touch his arm or shoulder. How I lingered when he played piano, sitting too
close, because the sound and his presence made me feel… warm.
I never said I liked him out loud. I just clung. And I'm
sure he understood. I'm sure he knew. He just didn't return it.
Thinking back on it now, I must've made him uncomfortable
doing these things.
I touched him the way John used to touch me. Light brushes
against his thigh, his chest. I didn't realize at the time how wrong that was,
how not normal it was to touch someone you barely knew like that.
That one real connection, one real moment of feeling wanted,
spun into obsession.
When school finally started, Janet suggested we ride bikes
together. She thought it'd be nice—Brandon helping me settle in.
The idea sounded perfect to me.
ToBrandon? Not so much.
"Mom, I can't. I'm going with my friends," he muttered,
already trying to wriggle out of it.
Janet folded her arms, her face tightening. "And why can't
Rhea join you? You are friends, right?"
We both froze. Him because he didn't want to outright say I
wasn't. Me because I was waiting for him to confirm it—confirm the budding
friendship, maybe something more. Confess his affection for me under the stars,
Like I'd seen on TV.
Cringe, I know.
"Help her get settled," Janet pressed, nudging him toward
me. "She's new. She doesn't know the way."
"Alright," he mumbled, heading inside.
Meanwhile, I was brimming with joy.
I was out of touch, really. I was so locked on to my little teenage dream—how I felt, what I wanted—that I didn't think about how Brandon
felt. Especially when Janet kept co-signing everything, it made me believe I
was doing the right thing.
She even gave me a thumbs-up once, whispering, "You've got
this!" the day before summer break ended.
That morning, I was up at 4:00 a.m. sharp.
My body squeaky clean— spritz with Lynn's body spray that I
snuck from her.
My curly hair styled to perfection.
The outfit cute.
I couldn't stop the smile spreading across my face. I
grabbed my bike and raced outside, my stomach in knots. Eyes on the prize as I
walked across the street.
Walking to school with him every day felt like fate. Like it
was almost guaranteed that by high school we'd be dating. Then marriage. Then
four kids.
You don't understand how much time I'd put into this "love."
And in my eyes?
We were endgame.