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“That’s not helping, Stacy,” I point out, frustration lacing my voice.
She goes to say something, but I stop her. I need to get this off my chest.
“If we were characters in a book right now and I was reading this, I’d be like, Jesus, how self-absorbed is that bitch Isabella not to have noticed her friend was suffering? Her loved ones were all rallied behind her, protecting her from the dark lord himself, my evil asshole of a father. All while she remained oblivious.”
“You know I hate it when you write these reviews.” Stacy shakes her head, sighs, and rolls her eyes.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to hold back tears.
“I’d be thinking, ‘I don’t like Isabella.’ In my review of the book The Life of Isabella Moretti, I’d write that Isabella is a pathetic, wimpy, self-absorbed, entitled princess who whined about the perfect life she wanted to escape. The stupid, naive, clueless bitch was so consumed with wanting to gain control of her life and lose her virginity that she had tunnel vision.”
“Bella…” Stacy warns, her tone pleading.
“No, I’m not done with my review.” I hold up my index finger to stop her. “Her reckless, childish behavior, driven by her emotions, put her friends at risk and dragged them into God knows what mess her life is in.”
“Are you finished now?” Stacy looks at me with raised brows, waiting patiently. “Can I write my review of that book?”
“No, you don’t get to write a review today.” I sit up carefully, feeling the emotional exhaustion setting in. “You get a written apology.”
Stacy opens her mouth to talk once again, but I stop her.
“Dear Stacy. There are no words…” I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts before continuing and starting again:
“Dear Stacy,
There are no words to truly capture the depth of my regret and sorrow for being so blind. I was so caught up in my world that I failed to see how much you were suffering, and for that, I am deeply sorry. You’ve had my back through everything, always watching out for me protecting me, and I was too naive to see the true extent of your sacrifices.
You are my role model and my superhero. Your strength, resilience, and unwavering loyalty are things I aspire to. From this moment on, I promise I will not let anyone harm you or take you for granted ever again. You deserve so much better, and I will do everything in my power to ensure you are never used or hurt because of me or by anyone else.
I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, and I’m committed to being the friend you deserve. Thank you for being there for me, even when I didn’t realize how much I needed you.
With all my heart,
Isabella.”
I look up, my eyes meeting hers, filled with sparkling tears.
“That’s a beautiful letter.” Stacy’s voice is shaky, and she swipes a tear from her cheek.
“I mean every word, Stacy. I promise I’ll be better. For you and us.”
“Bells, you never had a fair chance. You were doing the best you could, working toward a goal that was always out of reach. Not because of anything you did wrong, but because it was just a carrot dangled in front of you to control and manipulate you.”
“And here I sit again, making it all about me when I’ve just found out about the fucked up shit that’s happened in your life.”
“No, you’re trying to make sense of it all,” Stacy sticks up for me once again. “I’ve had years to figure it out. You’ve had six weeks. Four of which you’ve spent hanging over a toilet, vomiting, passing out, and feeling like crap. Before that, you had Andrey to contend with, and a whole new world of emotions and sensations was thrown at you.”
“Please don’t make excuses for me.”
“I’m not,” Stacy says, shaking her head. “I’m pointing out facts. At the same time, you were being manipulated and trained as a foot soldier. Still have no idea why your father trained you like that.”
“All Bratva and Mob get trained,” Pavel tells us from the door. We turn and glare at him, and he shrugs. “Hey, I have to watch you. I can’t help what I hear while I’m doing that.”
“Anyway, like I was saying,” Stacy continues, “I had been given a new life with better support. Okay, I still lived with the judges and my fucked up brother whenever he came home. But I had Gunner and Genevra, James, and you. It didn’t matter about the rest. I finally had people who cared about me. Gunner and Genevra helped me get through school and college by helping me with projects and studying.”
“More shit I should know.”
“How were you supposed to know anything when no one told you?” Stacy asks.
