A newspaper article inspired the protagonist in Deadly Ties by Jay Lang

Deadly Ties

Jay Lang

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     I was inspired to create the protagonist, Mila, after reading a newspaper article about a woman who was an adult child of an alcoholic and her challenging journey to find closure.

Chapter One

      Opening the door in the dead of night, I felt a rush of icy wind seconds before the killers appeared from the darkness

* * * 

A chilly morning wind gusts through the open car deck, almost causing me to lose my balance. Just as I reach the bottom of the metal stairwell, a distorted voice breaks through the overhead speakers. It’s the captain, informing passengers that a pod of Orca has been spotted off the starboard side.

Pushing against the wind, I make my way to the railing and look over the churning, grey water just in time to spot a large dorsal fin breaching the surface. Tourists quickly gather and shove to get the best vantage point for taking pictures.

After a few quick moments, the whales disappear and the onlookers slowly disperse. I lean over the railing and watch the whitecaps on the growing swells while we head into rougher seas. As the shorelines disappear, the wind picks up and mists of seawater spray over me. I continue to look out over the water, entranced by the pattern of the rolling waves. Though I get cold and wet from the saltwater spray, I don’t return to my car until the Departure Bay dock comes into view.

The farther the ship gets from the mainland, the more apprehensive and resentful I feel about going back to a place I fought so hard to leave.

I haven’t been home for a long time. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him again, especially since Mom died. She was the go-between, the mediator between him and me. Over the years, I opted for self preservation. Instead of visiting, I sent the obligatory card whenever a holiday or birthday rolled around. Yet, here I am in my late twenties, subjecting myself once more to the bullshit I escaped from.

The ferry docks, and as I drive over the noisy metal ramp onto solid ground, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my gut.

I knew this day would eventually come. Years ago, when Mom was still alive, Dad was diagnosed with a carcinoid tumor in his lower intestine. From what his care nurse tells me, the cancer has now spread to his stomach and lungs, and as gruff and emotionally arrested he is, I know my mom would’ve wanted me to help him in his final days.

Dark angry clouds hang overhead as a strong wind pushes against the body of my old Honda Accord, making it challenging to handle on the open highway. Despite this, the drive to Ladysmith goes by too quickly. Before I know it, I’m turning onto Brenton Page Road.

A few minutes down the road, I pull over so I can take a few steadying breaths. I remind myself that it’s better to sacrifice time now than live with the guilt of not helping the cantankerous old codger.

I listen to a couple of Neil Young songs while gripping the steering wheel. Then, feeling as mentally prepared as I can, I pull back onto the road.

After I pass the tall white inn, I turn down the narrow, winding road toward the beach. When I come to the clearing, I see the half-dozen row of waterfront cabins just up from the shore. I park, get out of the car and stand, looking out over the sea.

I wrote this paragraph after going on vacation and seeing this exact image and thinking it would be a great visual for this scene.

      When I was a child, I would wait until my mom was asleep, then I’d take off my clothes and tiptoe out to the beach. Standing naked under the stars by the glistening sea, the cool wind dancing around my body. It made me feel alive… a part of everything.