Page 42 of Drama Queen

“So, you were a plant. Sent to what? Watch me? Learn about me? Trick me? Make me fall for you so you could seduce me? Fuck me, and then what? Betray me? Break my heart?” My voice rises with every accusation.

“No, not that,” he defends quickly, shaking his head in denial. “I mean, yes, I was sent by your father to learn about you. To make my way into your life so he could have an in. Your mother kept you locked up so tight he couldn’t find a way to see you. Once I met you, and told him how wonderful you are, he asked me to get to know you better.”

“Well, I hope he gives you a bonus for just how well yougot to know me,” I snarl. “Did he enjoy every sordid detail of that report?”

“It’s not like that, Aria. I didn’t know this was going to happen, I swear. I was due to report in on Sunday, like always. I had no warning either.”

“And you just expect me to believe you? Are you fucking serious?” I practically scream at him.

“I never meant to hurt you, Aria. Everything I felt, we felt, was real. I want us to have a life together. Please, you have to believe me.”

“A life... together. You honestly think, after what you’ve just told me, after finding out you are a part of this”—I gesture around the room—“that I would want anything to do with you?!” I shake my head. “We’re done. Once I am out of here—and make no mistake, I am getting out of here—I never want so much as to set eyes on you again. You disgust me. So, I hope whatever deal you made with Daddy Devil was worth it because you will get no more from me.”

“Aria . . .”

“No.”

“Please, just give me?—”

“No, you don’t have the right to speak to me ever again,” I say with deathly calm.

Sadness washes over his face, but I feel nothing.

“GUARD!” I shout. “GUARD!!”

“He can’t hear you.” Anders interrupts my shouts.

“I don’t want to look at you for a minute longer. I want you gone. Gone from this cell. Gone from my life. Gone!”

Sighing in resignation, he doesn’t argue. Reaching down to his ankle, Anders scratches at his binding for a moment and then stands, swaying slightly. He stumbles forward a few steps before catching himself. It is then that I notice his remaining shackle has fallen away. I watch Anders walk to the door.

He turns to face me and takes a breath like he is going to say something, but merely shakes his head and turns back to the door. He takes a key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and walks out of it without a backwards glance. I hear the lock engage again, and his footsteps slowly grow fainter as he leaves.

I’m alone with nothing but my thoughts, my shredded heart in tatters on the floor. How could I have been so stupid?

I try to think back over the last few months, looking for any signs I missed, any hints that Anders was in league with my father, but there is nothing. He seemed to actually be interested in me, for me. And the sex... well I didn’t think you could fake that kind of attraction, that connection, but it was all a lie.

I feel so used. So dirty. So sick. I rush to the bucket in the corner and empty the contents of my stomach and then continue retching long afterwards. Once I’m sure I’m done, I splash water on my face and sit against the wall, knees up to my chest, head in my hands.

I’m utterly shattered. And what’s worse is that Mum will never know just how right she was. I wish I’d listened to her. She warned me about trusting people, about their motivations.About them always wanting something from us. I just didn’t want to believe the worst.

Taking stock of my situation, I come to the horrific realisation that despite the repeated bombshells laid at my feet, the hits haven’t stopped coming yet. Istilldidn’t know what my father actually wants.

Seventeen

I startle awakefrom my stooped position still against the wall to the sound of the key in the door, and I stand swiftly from the floor, keeping my back to the corner. The first rays of sunlight are just starting to shine through the window, so I know it is still early.

I have no other concept of time. It has been what feels like the longest night of my life. Despite barely getting more than a couple hours of broken sleep, not to mention the emotional exhaustion, I still feel relatively well rested and alert, which is beyond strange. I normally need a solid eight hours of sleep and two coffees before being this awake and functional in the morning.

I expect my captor to enter, maybe with more food, but in strolls my father, looking perfectly put together in his charcoal-grey three-piece suit, immaculate hair, and silver tie pin with what I am pretty sure is a diamond inlaid.

It’s the person behind him, though, who sets my teeth on edge. Anders comes to a stop just inside the doorway, looking more than a little guilty. The cut on his head is well hidden by his dark hair, if it was real at all, and his glasses must be hiding thedark circles beneath his eyes because I can’t see those either. A full night’s sleep, and probably a lot more food, has him looking much more like himself, although his skin is still a little sallow, and his cheeks are still lacking colour. I meet his eyes, but he quickly looks away, unable to meet my gaze. Good.

“How are you feeling this morning, daughter? You look well rested, so your poor accommodations have clearly not been too much of a hardship on you.”

My mouth gapes at his words, but I quickly cut off my sharp retort. Late into the night—or early this morning, I couldn’t tell—I realised the smartest course of action here was probably to play along with his sick fantasy. It’s my best chance of finding out what he wants from me, so I can get the hell out of here.

“Good morning, Father.”

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