Isabella stopped momentarily, lifting her eyes to the home of her
happy days. She swiped the tears mingling with dirt from her face and came
away with bits of dried blood on her hand. Where Gabrielle had struck her
still had not healed completely. Isabella looked up again, at the old tree
house she barely remembered from her toddler years. Most of her memories of
the old tree house were from Challenger's stories, and occasionally her
father's. But her father didn't talk about the good days back at the tree
house. He never mentioned the place she'd taken her first steps, nearly
giving her mother a heart attack as she tripped and came within inches of
slipping between the rungs and falling to her death. She learned that story
from Veronica. Isabella knew other stories from the tree house, how she was
amazed by watching the elevator go up and down. And how Isabella and Layton
used their fathers as horses on the floor. But all she had were the
stories, and the emotions. Her memories faded with every blow from her
stepmother's hand.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to be, she thought bitterly, approaching the old electric fence. She deserved the happy ending. She deserved a family, a mother, a father, and a brother. Isabella didn't deserve a half-interested father and an abusive stepmother.
Wiping her hands on her once pretty dress, she grabbed the fence and went to swing herself over. Pain shot through her fingertips and blackness overtook her.
"Miss? Miss, are you alright?" a male voice asked of her, shaking her quickly.
She opened her eyes, fighting off the pain rushing to her head. A familiar face was before her, etched with concern and wonder.
"Malone? How did you know I'd come here?" she croaked angrily, rising to her feet.
Her "uncle" looked taken aback and younger as well. His eyes narrowed and he looked her over.
Isabella looked very familiar to Edward Malone, but he just couldn't place her unruly light brown curls and gray eyes.
"How do you know my name?" he asked. "And who are you?"
"Uncle Ned, come on now. It's me, Isabella," she laughed, brushing her hands off on her dress and turning her eyes back to him. He said nothing and looked even more confused. "Isabella Roxton," she pressed. "You know, daughter of Lord John Roxton. I grew up with your son! You've given me more piggybacks than I can remember."
"Roxton has a daughter? And since when have I had a son? I'm sorry, miss, you must have taken quite a nasty fall. Come upstairs," Ned said, flustered by her reference to his friend and his supposed son.
"How can you not remember Layton?" she cried in disbelief. "Really, Malone, this has gone way to far. What would your wife say about teasing poor little me?"
Before Malone could answer that, someone called down from up above.
"Malone? What's going on down there?"
Isabella looked up almost fearfully, trying to think why that voice was so familiar. She gasped and stumbled back, catching her foot on a root and tumbling down. The last thing she remembered before she hit the ground was the woman she saw standing up above, raven curls and gray eyes just like Isabella's. Her mother.
This wasn't the way it was supposed to be, she thought bitterly, approaching the old electric fence. She deserved the happy ending. She deserved a family, a mother, a father, and a brother. Isabella didn't deserve a half-interested father and an abusive stepmother.
Wiping her hands on her once pretty dress, she grabbed the fence and went to swing herself over. Pain shot through her fingertips and blackness overtook her.
"Miss? Miss, are you alright?" a male voice asked of her, shaking her quickly.
She opened her eyes, fighting off the pain rushing to her head. A familiar face was before her, etched with concern and wonder.
"Malone? How did you know I'd come here?" she croaked angrily, rising to her feet.
Her "uncle" looked taken aback and younger as well. His eyes narrowed and he looked her over.
Isabella looked very familiar to Edward Malone, but he just couldn't place her unruly light brown curls and gray eyes.
"How do you know my name?" he asked. "And who are you?"
"Uncle Ned, come on now. It's me, Isabella," she laughed, brushing her hands off on her dress and turning her eyes back to him. He said nothing and looked even more confused. "Isabella Roxton," she pressed. "You know, daughter of Lord John Roxton. I grew up with your son! You've given me more piggybacks than I can remember."
"Roxton has a daughter? And since when have I had a son? I'm sorry, miss, you must have taken quite a nasty fall. Come upstairs," Ned said, flustered by her reference to his friend and his supposed son.
"How can you not remember Layton?" she cried in disbelief. "Really, Malone, this has gone way to far. What would your wife say about teasing poor little me?"
Before Malone could answer that, someone called down from up above.
"Malone? What's going on down there?"
Isabella looked up almost fearfully, trying to think why that voice was so familiar. She gasped and stumbled back, catching her foot on a root and tumbling down. The last thing she remembered before she hit the ground was the woman she saw standing up above, raven curls and gray eyes just like Isabella's. Her mother.