Roots of the Wicked by Keta Kendric

Author:Keta Kendric [Kendric, Keta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hot Pen Publishing LLC
Published: 2019-11-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chase

Jax turned and placed a sweet kiss on my lips before she sat up. I lifted and placed her pillow so that it would cushion her back. I sat up also, cushioning my back to the headboard. She reached over and turned on the lamp before adjusting to sit next to me. An awkward silence lingered between us as we sat, staring straight ahead. Silence stretched between us as I sensed her inner turmoil stirring.

“You were right Chase. You should know more about my history, and why I’m afraid to talk about it. I trust you Chase.”

She went quiet again, but the emphases she had place on the word trust wasn’t missed.

“The first time I overheard my mother say she never wanted kids I was five.” Her voice trembled with a vulnerability she rarely showed.

“The first time I overheard her tell one of her girlfriends she wanted the abortion, my father talked her out of getting, I was seven. The first time she wished I was never born, I was eight. It became pretty clear, even in my young mind, my mother didn’t want me. She was a party girl, born to a wealthy family, the Ramos’ who disowned her when she became pregnant with me at eighteen.

Her words soaked into me as I sat tensed with anticipation, and a touch of fear for where the story might go.

“The plan was for her to finish college, and then marry one of the wealthy suitors her family would pick out for her. Instead, my mother had chosen my father. At the time, I think she may have loved him, but he was poor, a part-time college student who had decided to go into the police academy.”

Based on the glare set adrift in her eyes and the tension that crinkled the corners, she was struggling to sort through the tough memories.

“I think her pregnancy became the turning point. My father had always wanted me and made every effort to show me he loved me. He worked hard because that was the type of man he was. Most of my young life he worked two jobs, one as a cop, the other as a security guard, to make sure we had everything we needed. But my mother, having been raised spoiled and entitled, wanted what her friends had. Designer clothes, fancy cars, and social status. Looking back at it, I believed she was pathologically obsessed with having money and status.

“She used me several times, attempting to wiggle her way back into her family’s life. Dressing me up and flaunting me in front of them, like a prized show pony. But, like her, they didn’t want anything to do with me. She often left me and my father, sometimes weeks at a time. He had to hire a nanny to take care of me whenever she did because he had no immediate family. She would eventually return, and my father would take her back every time.”

Jax absently scratched her head, her stare cast against the wall as she sorted through what was likely a mountain of emotions and recollections.

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