Parachutes Book Three: The Impact

by Takerra Allen

“I used to look at you and feel so free. I used to feel safe, baby,” she admitted, watching his eyes glaze at her trembling lips. The vulnerable Tahli he’d once owned. The only man to unlock that part of her. She was still waiting for him to blink. “Now... Every time I look at you, I can’t help but remember how happy you made me all these years and how good you were to me. Then I wonder if that was only the case because you were living this whole other fucking life I knew nothing about.”

“And you were just doing your thing, huh?” Tahli laughed mockingly. “Playing your part. That’s what I think now. Playing your part here, playing it there. Treating me so good because you were so scared of getting caught. Weighed down with guilt. It was all an act to you.”

“But that’s the thing about lies, Dalvin. Once they come out, they poison the truth. All of our memories are tainted. I’ll never believe any of them. I’ll never trust my own fucking memories. I’ll never trust you.”

Being imprisoned during the years you were—ages 18-23, which by some horrible design is the end of adolescence and the start of emerging adulthood—has proven to form significant changes in cognitive, emotional, and social development. The time where one develops their sense of self, you were alone, angry, dark, and in survival mode. Selfish, not by choice but by self-preservation. Minimal human contact, and hardly any positive ones. No empathy allowed. No sensitivity allowed. No love allowed.

Still, she wanted Bianca to be immature. Pop her gum. Wear tarantula lashes and a bad wig and maybe mispronounce words.

sometimes we don’t get to keep the loves of our lives, but it doesn’t diminish shit.