by Strange, KT
I didn't want him to have to. I stepped over to him slowly, and reached my hands up to take the gun from him. His hands were cold, skin freezing. The gun was heavier than I expected, and he let it go without a fight, not willing to hurt me in the slightest.
"Mia-“ he sighed, but he never got to say what he was about to. As soon as the gun was off of him, Barron was on his feet and leaping across the desk. He grabbed Buck by the throat and heaved him into the air. Buck’s feet dangled inches from the ground. I didn't even have time to yell, I just reached, but Bernard shoved me back. I fell, taking the gun with me, and I cried out, trying not to let it go off, my fingers wrapped around the barrel tight.
I shoved it safely under a chair, and got up just as Buck kneed his father in the chest. The two of them dropped to the ground and Bernard pinned Buck underneath him, choking him harder.
Bernard let out an enraged growl, the color of his skin going purple and mottled.
“I’m going to murder you, you filth, you useless-”
Buck’s reply was a choking sputter, his hands beating on his father’s wrists, nails scratching at him, trying to get him to let go. The wheezing sound coming from Buck’s mouth was terrifying.
Looking around, I spotted an ornamental plate sitting on a table; I grabbed it, shattering it over Bernard’s head. It splintered into a thousand pieces with a deafening smash, and he groaned, slumping down on top of Buck. I dropped to my knees, getting my fingers on his, and pried them off of Buck’s neck. It was a struggle, even if Bernard was unconscious or stunned as he seemed to be, his fingers were stiff and resistant. I rolled him off, and helped Buck up.
“I’m fine…” he coughed, sounding raspy, and staggered to his feet.
“We have to get out of here,” I said, tugging him along, no less panicked than I was a few minutes ago, but even as much as I was freaking out, there was also an odd kind of calm that had come over me, pushing me to keep moving. “Which way’s out?” He shook his head and coughed again, gesturing to the door and to the right, and followed me when I started moving.
The soft, subtle click of a finger on a trigger made us both freeze.
“Never turn your back on a predator, Mia, that is a lesson I thought you would have learned in the trailer park,” Bernard drawled, sounding no worse for wear. I turned my head slowly. He had the gun pointed at Buck, fear stealing any hope I’d had at making it out of there. Blood ran from Bernard’s head, dripping from his hair down the side of his face, and he smiled despite it, a ghoul in a fancy suit.
“This is going to be simple and straightforward,” he said calmly, like he didn’t have us at gunpoint, and we weren’t in a fight for our lives. Buck’s hand was tight in mine, and he kept a grip on me like he was terrified to drop it. Like I’d be ripped away from his side if he did. For now, it didn’t matter that we were supposedly brother and sister. He was my first real love, and we were in danger. I edged closer to him, leaning into him. I was never going to leave his side. Not ever. If this is how it went down, it went down. My mind whirled as I tried to come up with some way out of it-
“Let go of him. He is no longer welcome under this roof. Buck is going to leave this house and never return,” he said with that same easy smile, like a rivulet of blood wasn’t steadily dripping onto the floor, and he wasn’t threatening our lives. Without a hesitation, Buck growled, tensing up and pushing himself in front of me.
“The fuck I am—”
Bernard snorted.
“We will continue to charitably pay for your education at Hidden River, for appearances. We certainly aren’t the only family to do so. The story will be, and it’s a good one, since I came up with it, that Mia has come over in shock from the truth about her parentage and will recover here, at home. She will continue her studies privately and the academy will grant her a full graduation certificate. And if either of you speaks up, and I mean this quite seriously, Mia, I will destroy both your uncle and your mother.”
He smiled, all teeth, his eyes on me like glittering spiders, the gun still pointed at Buck.
“You are too important for me to let escape. Do you understand? You are my daughter. And all I want is to care for you.”
I stared at him in disbelief. He was insane. There was no other explanation. Completely and utterly. There were a million holes in his plan, and he didn’t see them.
But I didn’t see a way out, not right then, anyway. There was too much at stake. Buck inhaled slowly, his shoulders rising and falling, and I knew he was inches from snapping and doing something heroic and fatal.
“Buck, drop her hand,” Bernard said.
My heart squeezed when Buck stared back at his father, defiant, jaw tense, eyes blazing.
Bernard’s finger trembled.
I couldn’t—
With a cry, I let go of Buck’s fingers, and jerked myself away from him, crossing the few steps to stand behind Bernard. For Buck’s sake. All for Buck’s sake.
“Mia,” Buck said, fury on his face as he turned to his father. “You’re fucking crazy. There’s no way you can just make her disappear like this.”
Bernard smirked.
“Why not? It’s not the first time.”
Buck’s face went white, like he’d seen a ghost. His mouth opened in shock.
Bernard snarled and reached for me, pulling me in against him.
“Leave. Before I change my mind, and give the maid something else to clean up today.” When Buck hesitated, Bernard tightened his grip on me. “LEAVE!” His shout was more of a scream, primal and shaking me inside-out.
I hiccuped a breath, as Buck backed away slowly, toward the door, looking at me like he wanted to die rather than go. I had to get him out of there before he did decide to try to free me, and really did end up dead.
“I’m fine,” I reassured him, “I’m safe here. See? He loves me. He’s our father. He loves me and wants what’s best for me.” The lies burned my tongue.
“Truer words couldn’t be spoken, my dear,” Bernard said into the shell of my ear, his breath sick and poisonous on my skin.
I tried not to shudder, for Buck’s sake. I had to hide everything I was feeling so he got out safe.
Him being on the outside was my only chance for now. He’d get help. I knew it. Someone bigger and more powerful that could take on his father.
Buck locked eyes with me one more time, desperation in his expression.
“Go,” I mouthed. His face fell, his mouth a drawn line, bloodless and thin. He turned, and ran, out the door, his footsteps fading down the hallway. Something inside of me unfolded in relief, and then tensed again remembering where I was, and what I had just traded.
My freedom. For Buck’s safety. It had to be worth it. It was all worth it. I didn’t regret it, not even when Bernard turned to me, smiling, his expression twisted and sick.
Bernard dragged the gun down the side of my face. Oh God… hot tears pricked at my eyes and I willed them to go away.
I would survive. I’d saved Buck. And I knew he would be back to save me… but…
Would it be fast enough? Bernard’s free hand roamed my body, sliding up from my hip to the small my back, fingers tight and pinching through my clothes.
“Finally,” Bernard breathed. I closed my eyes. He chuckled. “I missed you so much, daughter.”
God help me… please…
Chapter Fourteen
Somehow, I managed to escape to my room without Bernard touching me any more than he already had. Dinner was brought up on another tray; I guessed they presumed I wasn't feeling up to eating with the family that night. I spent the rest of the evening, curled up by the windows in my bedroom, watching the light outside fade.
Did my mother know what had happened to me, in full truth? I leaned my head against the glass and let the tears slide down. They drip-dropped onto my hands folded in my lap.
It was hard not to feel completely alone. Would Buck come back for me? I didn’t blame him if he stayed away. What had he lived t
hrough, all those years with his parents? My uncle’s home must have been a safe haven for him, a paradise, compared to this glittering prison.
I slept, on the floor, moon rising over me in the darkness and I dreamt of nothing.
The next day there was a knock for breakfast, and a maid entered, the tray in her hands. A second maid followed, her arms laden with a heavy burden. I looked up from where I sat on the floor, still waiting by the window for some sign of rescue, in surprise.
“Miss,” the second maid said as the first fled silently, “Mr. Barron said that you are behind in your studies and he has sent these to help.” I got to my feet and she hurried out of the room. The lock clicked behind her.
Staring down at the pile on the edge of my bed I realized it was all the textbooks from school, a small pile of spiral-bound notebooks and a pencil case. Part of me was surprised they didn't give me a laptop, but I was also pretty sure there was no way they were going to allow me access to any electronics if they could help it.
A sense of resignation fell over my shoulders like a cloak, heavy and permanent.
For now, rescue wasn’t here and there really wasn’t anything to do about it. I reached for the first book, and carried it to my desk. English Lit. I cracked it open and inhaled the scent of paper, my eyes sliding shut.
They’d have to let me go eventually. They couldn’t keep me here forever. Someone would come. I was sure of it.
So I buried myself in my schoolwork, fingers indented from holding my pen too tightly as I took notes, and felt a little bit like Rapunzel, except that my hair was shorter and brown, and I was no secret princess… just a lost little girl, stolen.
In the margins of my paperwork, I tried to write out my feelings, ignoring the slip-slip-slip of tears down my face at being left behind.
And of being taken. I don't think I will ever understand the kind of evil that stole someone's heart like it had in Bernard and Sarah. Never in my whole life had I met two people so empty that they were trying to devour everything around them, destroying in the process.
The only thing that I could think of was that, having so much money and power, it made them forget that you couldn't just do whatever you wanted, and they seemed to think that other people weren’t even people at all.
I stared out my window day after day, and knew that there was no way I was going to stay there, not long-term. I'd figure some way out of it, even if it took me time. In the distance on the grounds I could see security patrols, and with a pair of low-backed dogs walking the perimeter. I couldn’t remember if they’d been there for Buck’s party but that had been so crazy I wouldn’t have seen them until I’d tripped over a German Shepard.
One of my big regrets was that they were being very cautious with me. If I had access to a phone or laptop, I could get Bernard on recording saying that he'd plan to blackmail me and frame my uncle. I could’ve sent a message out into the universe.
But, for right then, my only choices were to study and to eat, and stay as calm as possible. I did a lot of deep breathing, steadying myself.
They left me alone in my room for another week. No people or sounds, except for the maids that came and went. I got up in the mornings, made my bed, ate breakfast, and studied. My back got stiff and my body achy, so I started to take more hot baths, drowning empty hours in the water. I paced the length of my room and tried to do push-ups, landing on my face after the third attempt.
It was the same over and over. Swirl of toothpaste down the drain, sun rising and falling, shadows crawling over the floor as I lay there and emptied my grief, slow tears and hitched breathing.
My notebooks filed, one by one, and I ripped out the margins, writing notes to future people, folding them up tight and shoving them in the cracks between the baseboard and the floors. Anywhere I could hide some evidence that I existed.
Nightmares swelled to take my sleep, of Barron, gun in hand, my guys at his feet, bloodied and shot, and him swinging the muzzle up to my face, between my eyes.
The maids stopped meeting my eyes after a few more days. My dirty laundry fell down a chute in my walk-in closet into the darkness, and I almost wished that I could be an old sweater or a pair of socks so that I could go with them. I did more push-ups, my arms trembling, making it to three… then five… then twelve…
That first week passed. Then another…
Sleep fluttered away from me, an odd scent teasing me awake on another morning. I opened my eyes, the drapes still drawn, and my skin prickling with awareness. Someone was staring at me. I sat up, my mouth dry. It was early still, my body sleep-dazed and tired.
And there she was, across the room, sitting in a chaise-lounge. Sarah Barron, a plastic, frozen smile on her face.
"The reason he keeps me around is that I humor him, and don't mind his infidelities." She looked serene, but her eyes were intense, almost crazed, creased around the edges. I reached for the light beside my bed, and she didn’t even blink in the flare of luminescence.
That was when I saw the gun in her lap, and I froze, half sitting up in my bed. Her gaze followed mine and she smiled down at the chilly, dark metal.
"Don't worry, this is just to help you make good decisions. I'm not Bernard, and I don't wave a gun around just because I can. I just wanted you to know that the end was in sight for you. He’s already weary of his little captive.”
I swallowed. What the hell did that mean? I tried to think carefully over my words before speaking. The crazy rolled off of her, making the hair on the back of my neck tingle, and my arms feel like a thousand micro currents of electricity were running through my skin.
“I thought he was my father. You don’t get bored of your kids,” I said, finally picking something that would prick her conscience but wasn’t too inflammatory. When she said nothing, just kept smiling creepily at the gun, her fingers stroking over it’s edges, I pushed down my fear and tried again. “Did you get bored of Buck? I mean, he’s your son. Did Barron?” She rolled her eyes and laughed, getting to her feet with a sigh. She was wearing another one of her angry Easter-inspired sweater sets with a prim blue pencil skirt that made her look even more emaciated than ever. A tiny voice in my chest said that I could totally take her, get her gun away from her and pin her to the ground…
But she wasn’t Paige, and I wasn’t ready to risk a physical confrontation.
“Perhaps your mother did so many drugs to escape the doldrums of parenting you, but I chose to travel. Buck is handsome, but tiresome, and Lilah was—” Her lips pursed. She looked irritated and glared at the gun, turning it over in her hand. I gulped.
“Lilah?” I asked. She didn’t look at me. Her mouth turned up at the edges in a small smile, millimeters of evil barely wrinkling her cheeks.
“Try not to eat so much. I’ve informed the maids your meals are to be cut in half. You’re putting on weight, lazing around the house like this.” She lifted her nose and glanced down at me along it. “Barron doesn’t like fat women, and certainly not fat daughters.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Do you understand, Mia?” She asked softly. Her eyes iced over as she stared at me. “If you make any mistake while you’re here, don’t let it be angering him.”
My heart thudded in my chest, so loud I was worried she’d hear it. She dropped the hand that was holding the gun down to her side, fingers loose around it.
“I… understand.”
“Good girl,” she murmured, and turned, as if floating, and walked to the door without another word. She left, abandoning me with even more questions, and a new sense of dread.
Chapter Fifteen
Lilah.
Her name haunted me. I floated in the deep bathtub in my bathroom, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Warm water surrounded me, and I felt like I was one wrong breath from slipping under the water and just sinking to the bottom…
And staying there. Forever.
Lilah had gone missing. Who was she, anyway?
I sat up, water streaming do
wn my back, my soaked hair blanketing my shoulders. I needed to find out. There was something creepy in this death house that had nothing to do with the fucked up adults residing in it.
I dried off and pulled on soft PJs, some kind of bamboo cotton mix that was warm and heavy all at the same time, and walked to the windows.
The sun had set in the far distance, leaving the Barron estate grounds in shadows, clusters of garden lights illuminating foliage here and there.
The first time I’d seen this house, I’d thought it was a palace, magical and something else entirely.
Now it was a prison.
Footsteps, on the other side of the wall that hid the servant’s stairwell thudded softly. I instantly moved, driven by a need to have answers. They’d taken to locking me up in my rooms again, and I needed to make an escape, even a temporary one.
Locking the bathroom door from the inside and pulling it shut without me in it was the first part. Hiding behind the door to my bedroom was the second. I leaned against the wall, eyes closing tight as the lock, bolted from the outside, started to turn.
A knock rang out, I flinched.
“Miss?” The high voice of the evening maid filtered through a crack in the door. She huffed when I didn’t answer. If I was in the bathroom, she’d have to come inside and leave the dinner tray on the bed, across the room.
And she did just that, cursing me under her breath as the door swung open. She walked, back to me, across to where my bed-side table had a perfect spot for a tray. I held my breath, still, as she set it down.
Leaving it, she moved further away, passed my bed to lift her hand to knock on the bathroom door.
As her fist hit the wood, I stepped, and ducked out the bedroom door.
“Miss? Dinner,” her annoyed voice called. The hallway was empty, praise baby Jesus, and I made a beeline for an alcove with a giant bust statue, hidden in the shadows. I tried not to breath as she huffed in irritation at my refusal to answer. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes to collect it, and you’d best have cleaned that plate,” she said, voice muffled but growing louder. I shrank in my shadowy hiding place as she emerged, locking the for behind her. Her steps traveled in the opposite direction of where I hid, and the barely audible creak of the servant’s door had me sagging against the wall in relief.
