Chapter 7 - The Scramble in the Dark
The next fifteen minutes were a pathetic spectacle of panicked desperation.
Vanessa, her mother Evelyn, and Brandon ran through the halls of the house like frantic thieves, stuffing whatever they could reach into trash bags and carry-on suitcases.
I stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, accompanied by Deputy Miller and the Adult Protective Services investigators, watching their every move to ensure they didn't steal property that belonged to my mother or me.
"That's mine!" Vanessa screamed, trying to pull a heavy crystal vase off the hallway table.
"Leave it," I said flatly. "That was purchased by my father in 2012. Drop it or I'll have the deputy add grand larceny to your charges right now."
Vanessa let go of the vase as if it had burned her hands, her face twisted in rage.
Upstairs, Brandon was dragging two heavy leather suitcases down the carpeted steps. He looked broken, his hair disheveled, his expensive suit wrinkled and ruined. He stopped three steps above me, looking down at me with pleading, bloodshot eyes.
"Chloe... please," Brandon stammered, his voice cracking. "We're blood. You can't let them do this to me. Where are we supposed to go? All my money was tied up in the dinner party tonight! My credit cards are going to be frozen!"
"You should have thought about that before you stood by and watched your wife hit our mother," I replied, my heart completely numb to his pathetic begging. "You chose your side two years ago, Brandon. You chose luxury over loyalty. You chose an abuser over your family."
"I was trying to survive!" Brandon yelled, tears of self-pity finally streaming down his cheeks. "Vanessa’s family promised to back my business! I had to keep her happy!"
"You sacrificed Mom’s life to buy a lie," I said coldly. "And now you get to pay for it."
"Time's up!" Deputy Miller called out, looking down at his watch. "Step outside. Right now."
Vanessa was dragged out the front doors clutching two plastic garbage bags full of clothes, her expensive dress torn at the hem from tripping over her own high heels. Evelyn was crying hysterically, pulling a single rolling suitcase behind her while cursing the police officers in three different languages.
As they were herded down the stone walkway toward the driveway, a sudden, heavy rain began to pour from the dark Oregon sky.
The three of them stood in the freezing, pouring rain at the end of the driveway, their expensive garbage bags soaking through, their high-end makeup running down their faces in black streaks. They had no cars—their luxury lease vehicles had been registered under the corporate entity that was currently being frozen by court order.
They were completely, utterly homeless.
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Standing in the warm, brightly lit doorway of the house, my mother and I watched as a single yellow taxi cab pulled up to the curb. Vanessa, Brandon, and Evelyn shoved each other out of the way, desperately trying to cram themselves and their wet garbage bags into the backseat of the small cab.
As the taxi pulled away into the dark, rainy night, my mother took a deep, long breath—the first real breath of clean air she had taken in two long years.
