Page 158 of Fake Game

“Deirdre?”

I suck in a breath.

“Deirdre? Where are ya?”

I suck in another breath, but it quickly turns to teary hiccups.

“Da?”

My bedroom door pushes open, and a man with red hair streaked with gray and a weathered but kind face comes trudging in. His presence is an instant shot of relief to my haywire system.

“Oh. Oh, my little princess.” He takes three strides to my bed, reaching out to pull me into him. “You gave me half a fright.”

My hiccups quickly transcend to full-blown sobs, the taser slipping out of my hands as I dig my fingers into his sweater.

“Da,” I continue to cry.

It’s the only word I seem capable of getting out.

“I know. Let it out.” He cradles me against his chest, whispering soothing words as he runs his hand over the back of my head.

It’s the first time I’ve cried since everything happened. His familiar woodsy scent is a signal to my system that I’m safe, and the floodgates just won’t stop.

“Come on, I’ve got you.” He begins to lift me out of the bed.

“No!” It comes out as a guttural screech. “I’m not going anywhere.” My body scrambles, trying to escape from his hold.

“Deirdre Maura Malloy.” His tone is deep and commanding.

I look up at him like a cornered rabbit.

“I’m not trying to bite yer head off. It just breaks my heart seeing you like this.” His hard hazel eyes soften as he sighs, running a hand along his beard. “Why didn’t you say nothing?”

“I don’t know. I—I thought I could handle it.”

“Doesn’t really look like you’re handling it.”

I press my lips together.

“What’re you gonna do? Stay cooped up in here forever?” He makes a show of looking around my musty room.

“No.”

Yes.

“Yer coming home.”

“Home?”

“Carlingford. I’m taking you back to Carlingford.”

I’m about to protest, tell him there’s no way, but…

Why not? No one’s going to come looking for me there. Da’s kept the location hidden from the public with countless security measures. The house is secluded, even for a small village like Carlingford, and the townsfolk protect the privacy of their own.

It’s not safe here, not even in my room—it’s why I can’t sleep, it’s why I can’t breathe, it’s why I can’t live. I’m doxed. My information is out in the world for anyone to find. A selfish bubble in my chest pops, leaving a hollow cavern inside. I want to run. To leave. To escape.

I want out. I want the noises in my head to stop. I want to feel safe.

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