Free Uncovering You 7: Resurrection by Scarlett Edwards Page A

whether Jeremy’s having me watched. He’s certainly capable of hiring the people to do it. They could be tailing me right now and I’d be none the wiser.
    Of course, it doesn’t really matter. I’m not thinking about running. I’m only here to see my mother, clear my mind, and return to my position in Jeremy’s life. Hopefully without any further crazy episodes.
    I pull up to the motel, park, and go to my room. This environment is certainly familiar. It’s all I’ve known growing up.
    I look around the small room. There’s a futon with a pull-out bed. A tiny television sits across from it. There’s one of those stereotypical motel alarm clocks with the red light flashing the time.
    It’s early morning. According to Jeremy, my mother works nights. That much is to be expected. For now, I have nothing to do but wait.
    I check my phone for communications from Fey. Nothing. I sigh, and tuck it away.
    Then, I lower myself on the edge of the futon, and stare at the clock.
    Am I really ready to face my mother tonight? I don’t know. It’s been what, five, six years since our final blow-up? I’ve always said that she ruined things, so the onus would be on her to repair them. To extend the proverbial olive branch, so to speak.
    Yet here I am, taking responsibility for her mistakes yet again . That’s why we were always incompatible. She had no sense of responsibility. I did.
    And because of that, I was always the one left picking up the pieces.
    Honestly, at times, it felt like I was dealing with an overgrown child rather than an adult. Only some of her behavior can be attributed to drinking, or the heartbreak over Paul. If that even contributed to things as much as I suspect. I may just be misattributing cause to the situation.
    No, the majority of fault lies with her . Nobody forced her to drink. She did it herself. Nobody forced her to neglect her only daughter at some of the most pivotal moments of the young girl’s life. She did it herself.
    Nobody forced her to declare that I was no longer welcome in her home, because I chose school, academics, and an actual future for myself instead of her. Her and her drinking habit.
    She did it herself.
    God . I grunt in frustration. I’m getting worked up about the mere prospect of seeing her. How will I react when she’s actually there, standing in front of me, in person?
    I know I sound totally ungrateful. I’m not. Renee was a good mother. Until the incident in the woods, with Paul, that is. Until alcohol took control of her life.
    I hope—I wish—that she’s sober now. But I know better than to expect miracles. If you keep waiting for people to change, they will keep finding ways to disappoint you.
    People don’t change. Not unless something major happens in their lives. Not unless—
    Wait. Holy shit. Here I am, saying that people don’t change, and yet I’m expecting that…from Stonehart?
    Yes, Stonehart. Not Jeremy. That’s who I met him as. I should never forget that.
    I haven’t exactly. It just got lost in the tide of all the other feelings I have revolving around him. Maybe my time away will lend some clarity to my mind.
    Or maybe it doesn’t even matter at this point. Jeremy is a part of my life. He’ll continue to be a permanent fixture for the foreseeable future—and long past that.
    Unless something goes wrong. Unless—and this frightens me—he reverts back to Stonehart.
    Or, even worse—if I lose my mind.
    The incident with Hugh still eats away at me. I can’t shake the feeling that it was real. Very, very real.
    And that certainty...the impression that I should trust what I remember, and disregard what I saw transpire on-screen…is what makes me fear for my own sanity.
    I stand up. The room suddenly feels too small, too cramped. I have my freedom now, don’t I? I had better take advantage of it.
    I pick up my keys for the Corolla from the ashtray, grab my purse, step outside…and nearly collide with the taxi driver who brought me