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Love is...Blind

Gabriela Louis




 

  Love Is… Blind

 

  Gabriela Louis

 

 

 

 

  Copyright 2016 Gabriela Louis

 

 

  Discover other titles by Gabriela Louis

 

 

  Second Chances: The Power of Renewal

 

  Second Chances: The Power of forgiveness

 

  Second Chances: The Power of Hope

 

 

 

  Cover Designed by Anthony Jacobs

 

  Edited by Anthony Jacobs at [email protected]

  and Danny Cross at [email protected]

 

 

 

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

  or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

 

 

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters,

  and settings are product of the author's imagination.

  Any resemblance to actual events,

  names, locales, organizations,

  or persons living or dead,

  is entirely coincidental.

 

 

  Love is… Blind @ 2016 Gabriela Louis

  Ed. 2

 

  Dedication

 

  I want to thank my husband and children for their support. Thank you

  I want to thank my dearest friends for their encouragement. Thank you

  Table of Contents

 

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  About the author

  Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,

  Philippians 2:3 

 

  Prologue

 

  “Who were you talking to?”

  “Oh! Mother you scared me. I was just speaking to our neighbor. He just moved in.”

  “What kind of conversation can you have over the fence? He could be a psycho killer and you wouldn't know it.” 

  “Mother, I think you need to give me a little freedom. I’m twenty-three years old, and I have a kid. I think I can choose to speak to a neighbor or not.”

  “That's my point exactly, but you forgot one thing: you are a twenty-three year old single mother.”

  “So were you.”

  “You are right. I was a single mother because my husband, your father, was killed.”

  “You are being cruel now. I don't regret my daughter.”

  “Sweet heart, neither do I. I regret the circumstances. You are too naive to know the horrors that the world has hidden around in every corner.”

  “Mother, back up a little. I need some space and you are pushing me away with your hovering. I need to be able to make mistakes and learn from them.”

  “Well, the mistakes you made before affected you, and me. The mistakes you are making now, affect your daughter as well. Its time to be responsible.”

  “I am not as bad as you paint me to be. Mom, I need some space.”

  “Space you said, well young lady, I see you making the same mistakes over and over again and you have a child to worry about. Each boyfriend you bring home is a total loser. They have no job, no skills, and no education. From now on, as long as you are living in my house, you will follow my bidding.”

  “Mother would you like us to move? That's it, isn’t it? You want us to move.”

  “You are intentionally twisting my words, but let's assume that's what I want. Do you really think you can afford to move on your own?”

  “Mother you are intentionally putting me down.”

  “Josie, you are old enough to handle criticism. Life is not against you. Your decisions are against you. Every decision you make is impulsive and then you are not happy at the end.”

  “I think you want us to move.”

  “This conversation is going in circles. I know right now you don't have the means. Let's not stress about it until you do.”

  “We need to discuss this because if you want us out of here I can start saving.”

  “That would be the day. So far I am the reason you have accomplished anything in your life.” 

  “You are right. I am thankful that you were a good mother, and while I needed you the most, you were there for me.”

  “ I am glad you see my way.”

  “Actually, I am not done, yet. You are also right, I think it’s time for Vicky and me to move on our own.” 

  “You can leave if you figure out how, but think carefully about your decisions. They don't affect just you, but my granddaughter as well.” 

  “Mother, I don't know what’s the matter with you, but I’m going to my room before I say something I’ll regret later.”

  Ivonne stood there stupefied. How in the world did this conversation get so out of hand?

 

  17 You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.

  Revelations 3:17

 

  Chapter 1

 

  A shadowy figure sat behind the wheel of a nondescript dark colored sedan parked curbside on a dimly lit street. The car was parked under a tree, making it even harder to see the dark figure seated in it. The bill of the baseball cap on his head hid his dark, sinister expression as he watched the junkies and whores pass by on the other side of the street. He despised their kind. They were weak, needy, and best of all, estranged from their families. Most of them could die tonight and nobody would ever miss them. He had done this before and had proven this theory again and again. Nonetheless, his skin prickled in anticipation. He slowed his breathing and forced himself to calm down. If he rushed into this, he knew that he would make a mistake, and that would not end well for him. He was going to take his time and do it right, so he needed to pick the right victim this time. 

  After waiting for about an hour, she finally came stumbling down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. She was a woman of average height with light brown hair and curves in all the right places. She was wearing shoes with heels that teetered when she walked, and made her look like a giraffe walking on a tightrope. She was obviously drunk, and on several occasions, she staggered into trees and streetlights.

 
He quietly slipped out of his car after disabling the dome light to try not to draw attention to himself. He crossed the street behind the woman and came up on her from behind. He timed it perfectly, and just as she stumbled into a street sign, he gave her a good solid nudge with his shoulder. Her head hit the street sign with a loud bang! He caught the woman easily as she sank to the sidewalk unconscious. He hefted her up and propped her arm over his shoulder. He crossed the street with her and plopped her into the passenger seat of his car. He was careful to put her seat belt on her, after all, it wouldn’t do to get pulled over for a seatbelt infraction now. When he sat down behind the steering wheel, he reached over and hit her viciously in the jaw. It also wouldn’t do for her to wake up yet, he thought.

  The car drove away from the curb, and the man behind the wheel grinned in anticipation. “This will show that worthless piece of garbage,” he said to himself. “Wait until she sees the surprise I have in store for her. She’s going to wish she had never messed with me.”

  The car pulled up to the curb in back of, and around the corner from the townhouse where he knew the witch lived. No one would disrespect him again. 

  He parked and got out of the car. Going to the back door of the townhouse, he picked the lock, and entered. After a quick search, he discovered that he had the place to himself. 

  A few minutes later, the woman lay face down on the bathroom floor with her hands tied behind her. He looked at himself in the mirror, and hardly recognized himself. He was wearing a surgical mask and gown, with a plastic raincoat and plastic shoe covers, as well as a plastic head cover and rubber gloves. He pulled a long, wicked looking knife out of its sheath, and the light reflected off the blade. 

  The woman stirred and began to struggle against the phone cord that bound her wrists together. The man reached down and grabbed the woman by the hair, pulling her head back, and at the same time, in one fluid motion drawing the blade across her throat. Bright red blood sprayed from her carotid artery and made arcing patterns against the white walls and ceiling of the bathroom. She struggled to get to her feet, and the man spun her around effectively decorating the entire bathroom in gore. As the blood loss caused her to lose strength, the man shoved her into the bath tub, where she landed on her back with a sickening thud. Unable to speak, the woman stared wide-eyed at her murderer, with questioning eyes, and made a gurgling sound before losing consciousness for the last time.

  The man stepped back to admire his work. He looked at the lifeless body in the bathtub and wished that it could have been the witch, who so richly deserved it. 

  He hoped she got the message. He wished that he could see her face when she found this body. Now all he had to do was take the prize.

   He had been prepared for this. This was his favorite part of the job. He smiled in anticipation. The man removed the woman’s head and hands and put them in a plastic garbage bag, which he put inside a bowling bag. 

  Before he could zip it, he heard a noise at the front door of the townhouse. It was not time yet. He had not finished. He had to clean up, but there was no time.

  He picked up the bag, and ran toward the back door. Oh! He wanted to be near to hear her scream. He dove out the back door just before the front door opened, and rolled to a stop under some bushes in the back yard.

  Quickly, the man stripped off the bloody raincoat, mask, head cover, surgical gown and shoe covers, and threw them in the bowling bag with the head and hands. He had never done such a sloppy job. He waited a few seconds before running to his car. Unfortunately, he could not risk being seen by a neighbor and hearing her scream was not worth his freedom. The last time he came too close.

  As he walked through the back gate, he paused one more time. He heard someone in the house, but no scream yet. Shame. 

  The man hurried to his car, just a few yards away from the house. He opened the trunk and placed his prized positions there, then stripped off the gloves, and entered the car. Looking back through his rear view mirror one last time, the car slowly pulled away from the curb, and drove off down the road.

  “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”

  Psalm 56:3

 

  Chapter 2

 

  Josie was looking at her new place. The excitement of choosing her own decorations and showing her fun personality was babbling out of her. She was ready to burst with euphoria. She took a moment to appreciate the empty canvas she had in front of her. She could imagine the walls painted in a soft pink color. She could imagine the pictures she was going to choose for the walls. This place was perfect for her. It was small, but it was absolute perfection. It was so cozy, she could feel the walls hugging her. Then, there was the outside. Right now it was surrounded by a very patchy yard. With tender loving care she could make their little yard look green, surrounded by beautiful flowers. The flowers she was going to plant around the little place were going to be colorful to brighten her day, no matter how difficult things got. 

  She knew that life was going to get impossible before it got better. For now she had used every penny to rent the place and buy a few necessities. She prayed everything would run smoothly for the rest of the month because, as of right now they did not even have money for groceries. For the rest of the month she would have to be extremely frugal. 

  Enough dreaming, she chastised herself. She needed to tackle a few of the boxes and find work clothes for the week and most importantly, she needed to find her laptop. 

  Tomorrow was Monday and she had to be ready to start the week. She hadn't even started on her lesson plans yet. Agh! She loved teaching, and she understood the importance of the lesson plans, especially for someone new at the job like she was, but now she was exhausted and did not see how she was going to muster the energy. 

  Since before Thursday, when she had realized that she finally had saved the money she needed to move, she had been overly excited and had been running on pure adrenaline. It had been hard not telling anyone about her plans until they had already been finalized, and she was glad she went through with it and followed her instincts. As soon as her mother found out that she had already moved most of their things, she had a conniption fit. Josie actually thought that she was going to have a heart attack or a stroke, but the guilt passed quickly when she tried to manipulate Josie through her daughter. Her daughter did not need to witness her mother losing control as she had done. Her mother had actually thrown a cup full of coffee at her and then pushed Vicky against the wall. Thank God the coffee had been cold. Josie could not believe that her mother had acted so childish and aggressive. What else could her mother expect when they had not been on speaking terms for the last few months. Her mother had been quiet, not speaking to her. If there was something Josie hated, was the silent treatment.

  She loved her mother, but could not handle the oppression anymore, and even worse was the emotional blackmail. Josie understood that her mother was not going to initiate any type of conversation with her until she apologized and even though Josie loved her mother with all her heart, she did not know what to apologize for.

  Josie was just so tired of all the arguments and she just did not know how to fight it. Her mother even took advantage of her faith. Oh! If her mother only knew how this whole thing was killing her inside. You must honor your mother and father, says the Bible, but what does it say when the mother does not respect the child? She needed to go back and look at it, but not right now. Right now she had more pressing matters to attend to, but the guilt was killing her. Even now, after the whole weekend had passed, she felt her mother’s words weighing heavily on her soul and she knew that if something actually happened to her mother, she would go straight to hell for being a bad daughter.

  She could not worry about something she couldn’t change. That was just the way she was made. Now she needed to put her problems aside and make some sort of plans for tomorrow. She knew what she was supposed to teach, all she had to do was figure out how to teach it. Now where did she pac
k her laptop? She remember putting it in its case, right next to her school books, but it was not there. Was she so tired that she packed it in a box. Oh! she prayed it wasn't broken. 

  She had started tackling one box at the time, but had not even made a dent, and out of frustration had decided to leave the job for later and spend the afternoon with her daughter. Even though they had had a wonderful time, now she felt too tired to continue with this impossible task. 

  She would continue tomorrow. For now, she needed to sleep.

  11 For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

  Luke 14:11

 

  Chapter 3

 

  Ivonne walked into her room and flopped on to her bed until the tears stopped coming. She was devastated. Everything seemed to go wrong for her, but she was not surprised as her life had been one calamity after another. Her life started with the death of her mother, and her father had made sure to tell her every time there was a chance. Her father never remarried, and until this day, she did not know if that part of her life had gone well. She would have loved to know how it felt to be loved by a mother or a father for that matter, as her dad never seemed to forgive her. In her senior year, her father died leaving her alone to fend for herself. There was nothing left for her, no money, no food, and no roof over her head. She had no grandparents, no cousins, and no uncles that she knew of. She had no one she could go to except her father's very old Chevy truck.

  A week after her father’s funeral, she met Chase. He was a rookie in the police department who had stopped her for driving erratically. Instead of a ticket, he gave her his number. It was love at first sight. She was barely eighteen, and he was twenty-five. They married almost immediately. Two years later he had to go and die, leaving her alone one more time.

  She looked at the picture on her nightstand, tracing the face with a trembling finger as she spoke to it. She knew that the man in the picture could not hear her, but she spoke to him anyhow. “Chase, why did you had to go and die? Don't you know how difficult it is to be a single mother? Your daughter is just like you and I seem to be making so many mistakes. She is prideful and extremely stubborn. 

  “All through the years I’ve tried to be patient and understanding. I think I was too easy because she took advantage and started hanging out with the wrong crowd. She has been caught skipping school, drunk and shoplifting. Who knows what else she has done and gotten away with? Then I chose to cut her wings some, and set some boundaries, but it was too late. She came home pregnant and blamed the boy of rape, but there were no signs of a struggle.