Hell Bent (Rock Bottom #1) (2 page)

But you’re sensitive, which is a good thing. You always have been, and I certainly hope that never changes. The world is cold, hard, and completely against you, but don’t let that stop you from doing anything you want. Always strive to be the person you want to be. Love, and let yourself be loved. Remember no matter what you do in your life that I’m so, so proud of you. I don’t care what you do, the only thing I care about is that you’re happy. I don’t care if you take over the company after today, or if you want to ask people if they want fries with their meal for the rest of your life. You can sing, dance—as long as you keep your clothes on—become a doctor, or a stay-at-home mother. You’ll be absolutely fantastic at anything because you are perfect. You are perfect and have the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met and you’re only seven right now. I can’t begin to imagine how much bigger it will be by the time you watch this when you’re eighteen.

Shit, eighteen.
He pauses with a shake of his head, closing his eyes like he can’t believe the words he is saying.
How the hell has it been eighteen years since I first held you? Since I first heard you cry and knew that it was something that I would both love and hate for the rest of my life.

I was so scared the day you were born—it was a fear that never went away, one that never should when you’re a parent. When they handed you to me something sparked inside of me. I never knew I could love someone so much. Two seconds and I was wrapped around your tiny little finger. I knew right then and there that I would do anything to keep you from hurting...

His pause and change in his demeanor let me know that I’m not going to like what he has to say next. My eyes drop to the note on the disk’s case before going back to the screen. He’s crying, holding it together, but the tears are still dripping off his jaw.

But you’re eighteen now. That’s about the same age I was when you were born. Crazy, right? Everything about this is crazy, and I’m so unbelievably sorry that I’m not going to be there to tell you this in person. I’m sorry, but at the same time I’m going to be selfish and not be sorry because I won’t be there to see the hate and disgust you will have for me in a minute. It is killing me that I’m not there for you, Izzy; killing me in a different way than this tumor ever could—a worse way. But like I said, you’re eighteen now, and no matter how much I wish you were still the little girl that climbs into my lap while I’m working, or works her way into the heart of everyone around, you’re an adult now—and adults get to make their own choices. I made a choice the second you were born that I was always going to protect you no matter what. It was my choice because I was an adult, and because I was your parent. My choice to protect you was to do so by lying to you. And I know I’m rambling, but I have a reason. I’ve kept this secret for so long that it’s hard to make the truth come out of my mouth.

My father’s eyes drop to the floor, and when they finally come back up, I can see that they are filled with agony, but as soon as he opens his mouth I no longer care. The rage inside me skyrockets when he tells me that my mother is still alive. I don’t believe what he’s saying to me. I’ve never hated anyone other than my friend Willow’s step-father for the things he did to her, but right now I hate every single person in my life for keeping this secret away from me.

I shut the video off even though it isn’t over and throw the remote at the screen. The loud crack when they connect ensures me that something broke. Television, remote, hell the whole house could fall down around me at this very second, but I don’t care because they can all be replaced. What that lie broke—my heart, my trust, my beliefs—those can’t be.

Grabbing my keys, I start toward my truck. I’m screaming my lungs out but don’t have a clue what I’m saying. I’m not even sure if it makes any sense but it got everyone’s attention and has everyone running out the door after me.

My entire body feels like its vibrating from rage, and I’m almost positive I ripped a huge chunk of my hair out. Eighteen years of nothing but pure shit. My entire life has been nothing but a lie, and I’m standing here staring at the people who have spent all this time covering it up.

“I can’t believe you guys would keep something like this from me all these years. How could you not tell me about her?” Every one of them looks at me like they are completely oblivious to what I’m having a breakdown about.

Abby, my dad’s sister, throws her hands up in the air, giving up. “I have no fucking clue what you are talking about.”

I tighten my grip on the keys in my hand—the keys to my dad’s old truck that I’ve been driving for the past two years. Two completely oblivious years that I spent thinking my family would always be there for me, that they would never lie to me, that my father was the most amazing person that ever lived. Up until a few minutes ago, I would have done anything to have him back, even if it was just for one more conversation. Now, well… Now, I’m not sure I’d even be able to come up with one single nice thing to say. 

I take a few steps until I’m in Abby’s face with my arms squeezed tightly by my side. 

“How could you be such a bitch that you would keep the fact that my mother was alive away from me? All this time, I could’ve known my
mom
.” I wait for her to try and cover her lie, but she doesn’t. Instead, her hand shoots up and connects with my cheek, snapping my head to the side with the force of her slap. I expect it to hurt, but it simply stings because my face is covered in tears. I’m sure that I will feel it later, but all I can think about is getting away from here—away from
her
.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again,” she snaps.

I step away from her and walk backward toward the truck. “Did you know? Because if you did, it was all a fucking lie, and you can’t deny it.” I rip the door back and pull myself up into the cab. “Happy fucking birthday to me,” I mumble to myself as I peel down the driveway, flinging dirt behind me.

The bouncer lets me in without even a second glance at my fake ID. Woody’s is small, loud, and overcrowded, but that’s fine with me. There’s less of a chance of me being singled out with it like this. After pushing my way through the crowd to the only vacant seat at the bar, I slide up onto the stool and wait for the bartender to make his way down to me. I’m sure I look like total shit, my face is probably a mess from the crying, but that doesn’t stop him from hitting on me while he gets me my double shot of Jäger. 

My phone continues to vibrate in my back pocket, but I ignore it like I have been since I pulled out of the driveway and attempt to forget about the video I just watched. The thought that I didn’t finish watching it sits in the back of my mind, but I try to force it away. Who knows what else my father decided to make everyone lie to me about? They’ve all lied to me about my mother, maybe he is alive too and didn’t want me either.

Anything is possible.

Six shots later, and the alcohol does wonders to my brain. It’s fuzzy, my body is numb, and I couldn’t care less about anyone in the world. I’m still sitting straight in my stool, though, so the guy keeps feeding them to me, and that’s all that matters to me at this moment.

“You sure do know how to make an exit from a party.”

Willow, my best friend, slips her body between me and the guy next to me and everything I just ran away from hits me again. I drop my head against her shoulder, burying it in the mass of blonde curls, and try to hold back the tears. I feel her arm move, motioning to the bartender for something, and I pull myself together as fast as I can.

“
Shots
,” I yell over the sound of the band at the back. “I need more
shots
.”

Willow smiles and shakes her head but doesn’t stop me. She knows what it’s like to be in a bad spot. She knows what it’s like to want to forget, and I know she sees that that’s all I want when she looks at me. Raising her finger, she points at me and orders a double. 

I love this girl.
 

“You know this isn’t going to fix anything, right? Believe me...”

I slap my hand against the bar and spin toward her more. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Willow. I just wanna forget for a little while. I wanted my birthday to be happy, and right now everything is so fuzzy that I don’t think I could be anything but. I’ll sober up and be an adultier-adult in the mornin’.”

She reaches up and squeezes my arm with nothing but sadness for me filling her eyes. Pushing a shot into my hand, she raises hers to me. “To forgetting, because Lord knows I have my fair share of shit to get over too.”

Ow, my head. 

What the hell was I thinking when I decided to drink? I attempt to push myself off my bed because I have to pee like racehorse, but the arm stretched across my chest holds me captive. I push at it, trying to move it off me. 

“Willow, get the hell off me,” I whisper and push harder.

The deep groan next to me has me snapping my eyes open to find myself in a dark room that isn’t mine, and I try to inch away from whoever it is. “Not Willow, but that sounds like fun. It’s early, go back to sleep. We can invite her in later.” Whoever it is pulls me back against his chest as his deep voice surrounds me. 

Oh, this is bad. Very, very bad. 

I hold my breath, waiting for the guy’s breathing to even out again and try not to panic as I shift myself out from under his arm. Every time he makes a noise or moves, I freeze. When I’m finally free, I ease myself off the bed and search for my clothes in the dark. I stub my toe on something—a dresser, maybe—twice and have to bite my tongue so I don’t cry out in pain. The only light in the entire room is the green LED from the clock that’s blinking 12:00 over and over, and the light of the sun that’s just starting to rise.

I finally manage to find my way out of the strange guy’s bedroom—minus my bra and panties because I can’t find them. Thankfully, my keys are in my pocket so I don’t need to go searching for those. I’m not sure how the hell I got here, but I know I can call a cab and have it take me back to the bar if I need to. Out in the hall, I follow the flickering light of a television until I see Willow in the living room. She’s curled up into the corner of a couch, and there’s a guy stretched out across the rest of it.

I rush to Willow, dropping down on the floor next to her, and try to wake her up without waking the guy. Brushing her hair back from her face, I whisper her name over and over until she finally peeks out at me. 

“Are you done being a slut for tonight? Can we please leave now?” she mumbles sleepily.

She tries hiding the smirk behind her hand. “I hate you,” I deadpan. Willow pushes herself off the couch and slips her feet into her shoes.
Shit, shoes.
“Do you know where my shoes…or my truck are?” I ask, running my hands through my hair so I can tie it up.

The guy on the couch pulls one of his arms away from his face and points at the spot next to the TV. “Truck’s downstairs. You will have to reset the seat and the radio.”

“Uh…” I search for words as Willow pulls me toward the door and shoves my shoes into my arms. “Tell him… uh…”

“Hey, birthday girl,” the guy mutters, pulling his other hand away from his face and pinning me with his intense stare. There’s something ridiculously familiar about him, but in my post-drunken haze I can’t put my finger on it. “Whatever got you to this point tonight, don’t let it define you. As for him,” he jerks his chin toward the room I just came out of, “no offense, but I doubt he’ll remember you when he wakes up anyway. So there’s really no use in telling him anything.”

As much as I think that that should freak me out, upset me, or maybe offend me, it doesn’t. If anything, it makes me feel a bit better. Maybe nobody will remember this moment of weakness because I sure as shit want to forget the little bit that I
do
recall.

“Bye, Bennett,” Willow whispers as she peeks her head back around the door.

“Willow,” he nods. The guy’s eyes swing back to mine, and he smirks. “See you around, birthday girl.”

I can’t help the small smile on my lips as I close the door behind me. Willow links her arm through mine, and I pass her the keys. There’s no way I’m driving since I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk. She waves me off and pulls out her phone, dialing a local cab company instead. No matter how hard I try, she refuses to drive.

“Home?” Willow asks hesitantly after hanging the phone up.

“Our home, yes. Abby’s house, no.”

“Izzy, we promised them we would stay until we graduated. It’s only a few weeks away.”

I pull myself away from her and stop walking. “Are you fucking kidding me? You actually expect me to go back after what happened? They lied to me for eighteen years, Willow. Eighteen. God. Damn.
Years
. I’m not even sure I ever want to see them again. Who knows? Maybe I won’t even work at the label.”

Willow’s eyes widen as she stares at me in shock. “Izzy, you’re making a lot of decisions on an alcohol-fueled, emotional brain. Shit that could change your life forever.”

“I’m legally an adult. What are they going to do, say I ran away? Either get in the cab with me and go to the apartment, or I’ll find my own way there and come get my truck later alone.”

She sighs but finally caves. I know I should listen to her. What she’s saying to me makes sense, but I don’t want to listen to her reasoning right now. Later on, I know I will realize that she is right, and every single thing I do will come around to bite me in the ass.

My sneakers pound against the pavement. Left, right, left, right. They seem to be the only thing I have control of lately. If I'm not tired and passing out, I'm crying. If I'm not crying, I'm pissed off. I haven't been home since my birthday, and I haven't answered my phone for anyone other than my cousins, Sophia and Zander, and Willow. I'm itching to be back in the studio but I can’t go. It's as if my body needs to be there to function properly, but I’m still not sure that I want to be there now that I know my father lied to me about something so big, for so long.