Seeds of Yesterday

By Jaid Black

​The wealthy and influential Hunter family never thought much of Trina Pittman. Born on the wrong side of the tracks, Trina wasn't considered a worthy choice of a friend for their daughter, Amy. Being disliked by Amy's parents had been tough on Trina while growing up, but putting up with Amy's older brother, Daniel, had been brutal. Fifteen years later, Amy's tragic death reunites Trina with her past... and with Daniel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaid Black
• Release date: May 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463305164

Jaid Black

Jaid Black is the founder and driving force of Ellora's Cave Publishing, the award-winning online source for erotic literature. She is also the founder and publisher of Lady Jaided, a sexy new magazine for women. Her novella "Hunter's Right" appears in the collection Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down, and her novel Deep, Dark & Dangerous is forthcoming from Pocket Books in March 2006. Vistit her on the web at www.jaidblack.com.

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Copyright © 2005 by Jaid Black.

Republished February 2017 & May 8, 2020.

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Seeds of Yesterday

By Jaid Black

To Carey, my first best friend. I haven’t seen you since we were little girls, but know, even in your darkest hours, I still care. Beat the demons, girlfriend. You deserve so much more…

Diary Entry

You died on a Sunday…

I haven’t seen Amy Hunter in over fourteen years, but yesterday morning when I found out about her death it affected me profoundly. I took the news as if we’d been an intricate part of each other’s lives clear up until the moment when she took her last breath.

Once upon a time, when we were young, Amy and I had been inseparable. We’d done everything together, gone everywhere together, earned detention at school together—hell, we even lost our virginity to the same asshole. (How Amy ever forgave me for that one I’ll never know.)

I suppose that’s why it hurts so much to lose her, even though, if I’m honest with myself, I’ve hardly thought about her at all over the years except in one of those rare moments of nostalgia when I remember days gone by. And yet, knowing that she is gone from the world hurts in a way I simply can’t quantify or qualify.

Maybe it’s because we were so young when we met, both of us just fourteen. Maybe it’s because I loved Amy when I was a kid, back before I grew up and became the jaded person adults can’t seem to help but become.

When you’re fourteen, everything is so damn easy. You love others quickly and completely, you hurt others quickly and completely and you forgive others quickly and completely. It’s nothing like being an adult, a time when you look at the world through skeptical eyes. A time when love comes slowly if at all, hurt happens rarely because you’re expecting it, and forgiveness is for the TSTL—Too Stupid To Live—types.

But with Amy—

Oh God, Amy…

I can’t believe you’re dead, sweetheart.

I suppose her death shouldn’t have surprised me given her precarious health even back then. She’d had to shoot up with insulin three times a day long before I’d ever known her. At fourteen one never gives much thought to what childhood diabetes can do to a little girl’s system. When you’re that young, death is too far removed from your vocabulary for you to feel anything less than invincible. I’d always known that Amy had health problems. The fact that she could die from them never so much as occurred to me.

And now as I sit here in front of the computer screen, typing out my thoughts some eighteen years later, I find my eyes misting up as my gaze continuously strays toward the black-and-white photograph of a thirty-two-year-old Amy Hunter in Sunday’s obituary section of the local paper. Same laughing eyes, same dent in her chin—a hereditary dent she shared with her father Gus and her brother Daniel. Same everything…almost.

What was gone from the thirty-two-year-old Amy was the innocence of youth, the belief in invincibility that makes fourteen-year-olds do stupid, reckless things. In its place was a quiet calm, an acceptance of mortality and of what could not be changed. In that way the photograph resembled her older brother Daniel more than it did good-time, always-up-for-a-laugh Amy—the Amy I had known and loved with my whole heart.

Her brother Daniel—Daniel Michael