Fear Games

8. What We Could Have Been

"It's a shock, for sure," Rachel said. "But what can I do about it? He wants to help, and since Drake doesn't want to be around—not that he'd understand anyway—it's probably a good idea how have Isaiah around."

"Well, let me know how the dinner goes," I said. "I'm trying to finish up the last camera—" Just then, I heard a car door slam outside, meaning that either Jax or my kids were home. Shit. "Uh, Rachel, I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sounds good. Love you."

"I love you, too," I replied and hung up quickly. I raced over to the unfinished camera and pushed a few buttons, hoping that I was doing this right. After a couple of tries, a green light lit up on the side to signify that it was working and filming.

Perfect.

I ran back over to the couch, turned on the television, and pretended to be watching the news. The front door opened up, and sure enough, in stepped Jax. Today he was wearing black skinny(ish) jeans and a black shirt, his hair matted hair a mess, but still cute. He smiled at me and said, "Hi, Eden."

"Hello," I said, returning the smile, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt. "Where we you?"

Jax shrugged. "Had some errands to run. I'm going up to my room for a little bit. I'll be down for dinner, though, okay?"

"Okay," I said. As he headed up the stairs, I started to beat myself up for not putting any cameras in his room to monitor what he was doing. Oh well. Sooner or later I would figure out his motives. If he was the killer, or one of them, he was messing with the wrong bitch.

RACHEL

"And that's how I ended up in prison," Isaiah said. It was later that evening, my kids, Isaiah, and I were sitting around the table eating a pot roast Emerald managed to put together, and we were talking all about the past. I felt that it was best that Emerald and Calix got a better idea of what went down back then from the perspective of someone that wasn't me, because they'd heard my side of the story plenty of times. Now that we were in our own brand new set of Games, I felt this was important.

Emerald finished chewing a potato and asked, "How was it being in prison for, what, fifteen years? What the hell do you do all day?"

"Let's just say that I kept myself pretty occupied with books," Isaiah said. "Lots of learning, trying to educate myself about lots of different topics. I was able to finish my schooling and start working on some other things. The prison system has changed a lot since when I first went in. While I was there, I loved studying religion and philosophy. It really changed the way I look at life and a lot of what's happened to your mother and me."

That definitely caught my attention. "How do you look at it now?"

Isaiah smiled—that same familiar smile that I knew all those years ago—and said, "That's not a dinner conversation, but I will say this: I do not think everything happens for a reason, but we've all been brought to this place for a specific purpose. What happened to us as kids, and what's happening to your children now, is beyond horrific. But it's all about what we choose to do with it that matters the most. We can choose to take the bad, the trauma, and make beauty out of it."

My whole family was silent for a moment, and I pondered what he said. Was it true that we could make beauty from trauma, from pain, from tragedy? When I looked at my children, I realized that it was absolutely possible. But how were they going to do the same, to build lives for themselves, after all of this was over? They needed to be strong like Eden and I were. They needed guidance.

"What if we can't?" Calix asked.

"Can't what?" Isaiah said.

"What if we can't make beauty out of this? What if it's not possible? After what happened to my sister, I'm scared for her. I won't stop being worried until we catch whoever did this. But how is she going to recover?"