Fault Lines
Isabella’s POV
“Isabella, why didn’t you listen?” my father yelled, pulling me from the party.
“Stop controlling me, Dad. I’m an adult!” I snapped, pulling free.
“Isabella!” he shouted, angry and frustrated.
“Stop it! I’m going back in, and you can’t stop me.”
I turned my back on him, my jaw clenched with defiance, and started walking toward the house, shoulders rigid with anger.
But before I could take another step, he grabbed me and swung me around, lifting me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
“As long as you’re living in my house, you will live by my rules!” he barked as he carried me toward his car.
“Dad, stop! You’re embarrassing me!” I yelled, kicking.
Even as my screams echoed in the night, my dad’s jaw tightened. He wouldn’t stop, no matter how desperately I yelled.
At the car, he set me down and pushed me into the passenger seat.
“It’s for your own good,” he said quietly, moving to the driver’s side.
The car ride was painfully silent.
The kind of silence where even the drop of a pin would sound loud.
But my anger was still burning.
Then I said the worst thing I could have.
“I HATE YOU!” I screamed. “If Mom were here, this wouldn’t happen. No wonder she left. You’re a control freak!”
I turned my head toward the window, refusing to look at him.
“Isabella…” he whispered, his voice trembling, shards of hurt piercing through the silence.
There was something in his voice.
A sharp ache of pain. A heavy weight of regret.
Something that made me finally turn to look at him.
And that’s when I saw it.
The truck.
It was coming straight at us.
“Dad, look out!”
The scream tore from my throat as the blinding headlights of a truck rushed toward us.
Everything happened too fast.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
My eyes flew open as my alarm blared beside my bed.
My chest heaved as if I had just run a mile.
For a few seconds, each breath scratched in my throat, chest heaving like I was underwater.
The dream. No… not a dream.
A memory.
Five years later, and it still haunted me.
“Time heals all wounds, right?” I muttered as I sat up.
“Well, that wasn’t my case.”
My wounds were still wide open.
The guilt still ate me alive.
The image of that night played in my mind daily.
If I had done things differently… would it still have happened?
If I had listened to him.
If I hadn’t been such a stubborn teenager.
If I hadn’t gone to that party.
Would my dad still be here?
“So many what ifs…” I whispered, exhaling shakily.
Why did I have to argue with him? The memory of my words burned in my mind.
Why did I have to distract him?
The accident was my fault.
And I had hated myself ever since.
The last words I ever said to him were horrible.
I didn’t hate him.
I never did.
He was the only family I had known.
And now he was gone.
My mom left when I was only three years old.
My dad raised me all by himself.
So how stupid was I not to see how much he cared?
It had been five years since the accident.
And in one week, I would be turning twenty-one.
Which was why I had made a decision.
I was leaving this town. For good.
This place held too many memories.
Too many ghosts.
Every street reminded me of what I had lost.
Every night brought the same nightmare.
I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed a fresh start.
And moving to New York felt like my only chance.
“Twenty-one is going to be a new beginning for me,” I whispered to myself.
A week later, my birthday finally arrived.
My routine never changed.
Wake up. Eat. Go to school. Go to work. Come home.
Repeat.
Ever since the accident, my life had become painfully simple.
I didn’t really have friends anymore.
Maybe everyone saw me as the strange orphan girl now.
Everyone kept their distance.
Everyone except Judith.
The old lady next door.
After my father died, Judith secretly took care of me, even hiding me from the authorities until I turned eighteen and could legally live on my own.
She became the closest thing I had to family.
Which made leaving even harder.
As I walked downstairs into the living room, I froze.
Judith was standing beside the table, placing a small birthday cake in the centre.
Twenty-one candles flickered softly.
Even though I never wanted to celebrate my birthday after the accident, Judith still insisted every year.
“Isabella, my darling. Happy birthday,” she said warmly, kissing both my cheeks.
“Judith… you shouldn’t have,” I said, pulling her into a hug.
She rolled her eyes.
“Same drill, every year: you protest, I ignore you.”
She gently pulled me closer to the cake.
“Make a wish, honeybun.”
I looked at the candles.
Twenty-one tiny flames.
I closed my eyes.
I only had one wish.
A fresh start.
I blew out the candles.
Judith handed me a slice of cake, and we went outside to sit on the swing chair overlooking the quiet town.
“Judith…” I said softly.
“Yes, dear?”
I stared down at my hands, fidgeting with the hem of my dress.
“I need to tell you something.”
“You know you can tell me anything.”
I swallowed hard.
“I’m leaving.”
Her face fell instantly.
“I can’t stay. Every place reminds me. The guilt comes back.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Judith gently lifted my chin.
“Isa, it wasn’t your fault,” she said, wiping my tears.
“But even if it breaks my heart to see you go… I will support your decision.”
She pulled me into a tight hug.
“You’re a grown woman now. Go explore the world. See where life takes you.”
“Thank you, Judith,” I whispered into her shoulder.
“Promise me something,” she said.
“What?”
“Call me. Visit me whenever you can. Age is catching up with me.”
I laughed softly through my tears.
“I promise.”
“I love you, my child.”
“I love you too.”
The day I left arrived faster than I expected.
My suitcase was packed.
My heart was not.
Judith was already crying when I came downstairs; her eyes brimmed with tears, her face crumpled with heartbreak.
“Don’t forget to call.”
“I won’t.”
We stepped outside together.
Locking the door to the house I grew up in felt harder than I imagined.
It felt like I was locking away every memory.
Every mistake, every demon.
Every demon.
I took a deep breath.
Then turned the key.
The door clicked shut.
I walked to the car, my heart pounding heavily.
As the car drove away, I looked back at Judith and the house one last time.
Tears slid silently down my cheeks, each one a stinging echo of all I was leaving behind.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I whispered.
“But I have to leave.”
At the airport, everything moved quickly.
Before long, I was seated on the plane heading to New York.
I leaned back in my seat, staring out the window as the engines roared to life.
My mind replayed everything that had brought me here.
The accident.
The guilt.
The goodbye.
I slowly closed my eyes as exhaustion took over.
“New city…” I murmured.
“Please be good to me.”
