The Diary of Isabelle Marquette: An Apparition of a Person

By Victoria P. Lerman

Isabelle Marquette is a woman of mystery. After she loses a large percentage of her investments and her husband during the Great Recession, she must create a new life in order to support herself and her two children. Her journey leads her from New York to Las Vegas, where Isabelle becomes immersed in a chaotic world that leaves her struggling to keep her sanity.

As she reflects on her life through a series of diary entries that include flashbacks, Isabelle shares glimpses into her tortured childhood, personal struggles, and the dark world of gambling. She secures adventurous and lustful encounters, and attempts to work through her troubles with the help of a therapist. Having been a repeat victim of betrayal by people close to her, Isabelle must somehow find a way to trust the one person who loves and believes in her.

In this compelling novel, a woman who loses almost everything during a financial crisis must learn to rely on perseverance, her inner-strength, and courage as she puts up a relentless fight to survive in a dangerous world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jan 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781480839670

Victoria P. Lerman

Victoria P. Lerman is a freelance writer and has two previously published children’s picture books. She is a SAG-AFTRA actor. Ms. Lerman has also had the opportunity to write/produce music. She has appeared or been involved behind the scenes in several film/television productions. Ms. Lerman currently is based in New York City with her family. The Diary of Isabelle Marquette–An Apparition of a Person is her debut novel.

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Copyright © 2017 Victoria P. Lerman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-3968-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-3969-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-3967-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016921027

Archway Publishing rev. date: 2/13/2017

Contents

Prologue

Entries From The Diary Of Isabelle Marquette

The Beginning Of My Journey: The Rise Of Lady Luck

A Description Of The Ex-Boyfriend

The Fuck Buddy List (A.K.A., Therapy)

Back To My Introduction To Casino Life

Who Is Isabelle Marquette?

Memories Of My Parents

Can’t Sleep—My Mind Is Racing

A Ghost In The Family

A Memory Of A Binge

About The Marquette Step-Siblings—Rebecca And Brian

One Last Lady Luck Memoir In Atlantic City

A Naughty Atlantic City Story

Back To My Atlantic City Tale (Having A Laugh)

The Marquette Mandatory Examination

Fast Forwarding To The Ending Of My Encounter

A Brief History Before My Much-Needed Trip To Barbados

An Fbi Informant Is Born

Coming Of Age To Receive My Inheritance

Can’t Sleep … A Random Excerpt

Looking Out The Window On The Plane To Barbados

My Last Entry Was A Healthy Purge—Writing Is Catharsis

An Entry A Bit More Exciting … Back To My Trip To Barbados Before Hitting Vegas

Memoirs From Barbados—A Woman Has To Have Some Fun

The Married Hotel Guest

The Marquette Interviews … Could I Be A Future Sex Columnist?

The Married Hotel Guest Continued

Day 2, 10:00 A.M.—An Awkward Moment

Isabelle Marquette Still Missing

Lady Luck Officially A Vegas Woman

Madame Isabelle Marquette

Back To The Present—Feeling Agonizing Pain, Can’t Sleep

Another Random Memory—Been Up All Night It Seems

They Come And Go, Waking Me From Sleep

Back To Las Vegas Memoirs—Meeting With Mr. Unknown

Meeting The Mystery Man

Meeting Mr. Dominick Gandolfini

Who Is The Mysterious Dominick Gandolfini?

What A Surprise

A Guardian Angel

The Claws Show Themselves

Feeling Like A Barbie Doll Or A Marionette Puppet … Not Sure!

Stage Fright

A Visit

My True Love

Random Acts Of Kindness

Agent Todd Andrews Returns

Therapy With Dr. Nancy Rich

Dr. Nancy Rich Makes Me Remember

Agent Andrews And Agent Michaels Returns

Happy To Be Writing Again

May 6, 2009

The Fbi Team Appears

My Ex-Husband’s Taped Interview

More Fbi Information—My Irrevocable Trust

My Final Entry Before Showing The World That I Am Alive

My Day In Court

Mr. Marquette’s Imaginary Royal Family

Mr. Marquette In The Doghouse

Munchausen Syndrome By Proxy

Isabelle Marquette—No Longer A Ghost

Rebecca And Samuel Appear

A Visit From My Ex-Husband, Pierre, And My Son Jacob

When Does A Parent Walk Away From Their Child?

How To Forgive?

Reuniting With Dominick

A Surprise For Me

And I Lived Happily Ever After!

Time To Say Good-Bye

About The Author

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If a writer creates fiction to entertain … Would it not make sense for that person to be in a delusional world at least for as many moments as it takes to make the story come to life?

—Victoria P. Lerman

Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius … It is better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.

—Marilyn Monroe

One day the people who didn’t believe in you will tell everyone how they met you.

—Johnny Depp

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PROLOGUE

The man exited the car, breathing fast and heavily, scratching at his head, nervous energy making him feel a loss of control. He began pacing back and forth in the darkness with his hands in his pockets. The faint sound of coins could be heard jingling as he continuously curled and twisted his fingers in his pockets. His mind was in the middle of two radio stations. All he could hear was static.

The air was cold enough that he could see his breath. He stood there scanning his surroundings. Occasionally he would step on a tree branch. Its break would startle him. The night was dark, yet the reflection of the moon revealed his bloodstained hands. His face was without expression, a blank, chilling hazel-eyed stare. His mouth was in a straight line. He suddenly stood still as he finally tuned into a station. He was listening to a voice calling to him.

My dear son, this is your mother, Pamela. You know what you need to do. Mommy is here with you. Dispose of the woman, and you can have everything in the world you want. You do not want to take care of another dominating woman, do you? You are entitled to have it all. Kill her! She served her purpose by helping you through my death.

"Stop, Mother! he screamed. Would you stop already, please! You are always telling me what to do."

But my dear boy … When are you coming back to me? Mother knows best.

"Mother, I have not even left yet … Would you just stop? Ahhhhhhh, ahhhhhhhhh, ahhhhhhh. Ahhhhhhh," he screamed as he grabbed his head, shaking it violently. His face became contorted as he squeezed his eyes. He began scrunching his flat, bulbous nose, and his lips locked in the grimace of a soon-to-be murderer. He held his breath until he could hold it no longer.

He dropped himself onto the cold dirt ground as if he were helpless. His head was in between his knees as he began rocking back and forth, sobbing. He was stomping his feet like a child and shaking his head no over and over again.

Mother, Please do not make me leave her because then I will have nobody.

My son … She opened doorways for you. You’re a made man. The children will not know and will move forward with you. You have some very important people, who would love to bury her alive. Look how much they have helped you become the success you are today. They will take care of you, my son. Get rid of her, and the children as well as her money will be yours. Mother knows best!

I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, he kept repeating to himself. I love her, Mother, he mumbled with his head still buried in his knees.

Do it, my dear … listen to your mother. Nobody will find her. Listen to your mother, my son! She is not important. You are about to have all the wealth in the world. Stop hesitating as it will soon be daylight. The haunting voice startled the man.

Then, suddenly, he stopped rocking and looked up at the car before his eyes. His facial expression looked as if he were in a trance. Then he began to smile and laugh. It was hysterical laughter.

There was a woman in the window of the car gagged and badly beaten, looking directly at him. She was banging her hands against the glass. She was pleading with him for mercy. The man just looked at her and watched. He started screaming back at her, mocking her. He was amused at her torture.

What? What do you want? he yelled.

He stood up and unzipped his pants.

You want this, baby? He smiled as he exposed himself to her. He was stroking himself vigorously as he started biting and chewing on his lower lip.

He then rolled up his sleeves, revealing multiple scratch marks from the woman attempting to defend herself. The man walked over to the car after taking off his pants completely. He opened the trunk and took out a blanket. He opened up the door on the other side of his BMW and got into the car.

How is my baby doing? He smiled, revealing his crooked, rotted teeth.

He was sweating profusely. The woman looked at him with panic. Her eyes were filled with fear and sadness. The man she had thought she knew and loved was not the man sitting beside her now.

What … You ask why am I doing this to you? A woman like you with no supportive family … Such an easy death for you. It’s so easy, my precious. You cannot possibly think you have any identity. You were meant not to live or surface. Making you disappear is not as hard as you think. I will give you one more moment of affection before your heart stops beating.

He started stroking himself again, squeezing hard and vigorously around his erection. He then grabbed her hand, forcing her to squeeze the base of it like a tourniquet.

No … Not yet, he said in a calm voice as he moaned. Mmmmmmm. He began stroking his hands through her long, blond hair and ungagged her.

Look at me, my love. Enjoy the last moments of your life.

Tears streamed down the woman’s face as she nodded frantically, following his direction. She was facing the truth. The shock of reality was before her eyes.

Baby … Everything was yours. I wanted things to be mine. Mine, he yelled.

"Mine," he yelled louder

"Mine," he screamed with such force at the top of his lungs that saliva came from his mouth. He was drooling, his eyes bloodshot and filled with rage. The woman stopped and curled up into a ball, scared against the car door, but not taking her eyes off the man. With one hand, she managed to quietly open the door slightly ajar during his rage.

This abuse was an extension from her past. She removed herself from everything that was happening, just observing. The pain would be less if she were detached. The best way to cope was to dissociate herself from her horrific situation. The man was communicating with a shell, an apparition of a person.

I do not want to be dominated by you. I want a lifestyle of my own, status of my own, and I will have it thanks to you, my love, he said. I have better options than a life with you.

And my dear … People viewed you as nothing but a problem. Nobody even mentions your name. Do you really think that anyone cares about you? Don’t you see that you are nobody in this world? Hush now … I have something to keep you warm. He wrapped her in the blanket and rubbed her tousled hair off her face. He began gently stroking the side of her face.

There, that’s better. You are so beautiful. Let me hold you … I know how you love to be held. This is your favorite blanket. Remember, my mother made this for me.

The woman was already removed but nodded in agreement.

You know I will always love you. Don’t sulk, baby. Please don’t cry, he said as he wiped the tears from her eyes. The tears kept flowing.

"Stop it!" he screamed.

He dragged her toward him by her legs. Her head fell hard against the seat. The man then pulled her skirt up and ripped off her panties.

Now, spread your legs for me.

He then forced her on her hands and knees, pressing her battered face against the car door. She held onto the handle of the door with one hand. He kissed her with a forceful passion and filled her with his poison, which she once thought to be love.

Thank you, she said. She felt like a ghost, so it did not matter anymore. She came back to reality one more time to forgive. Is not forgiveness the way to move forward?

"I know you did not mean to