Page 2 of Buried Secret 295

My eyes feel confident that his lips didn’t move. Am I hearing voices? My hand is shaking as anxiety seems to have taken root in my chest. I try to shake this off because I’m sure my paranoia is amping up with the pressure I’m placing on today. His short, dark hair is always lying perfectly. I wish mine would do that. I have waking nightmares, remembering when my hair used to look as if I stuck my finger in the light socket. He reaches for his coffee mug, and his large hands almost dwarf the cup. His honey-colored eyes narrow when he sets the coffee cup down, and I feel he can see all my imperfections. But then he smiles atme, which makes my chest warm. “Do you want to eat first or see what control you have over your casting?”

The thought of food makes me want to vomit. My anxiety is so high. I think any substance I consume would only make it worse. Even my palms are sweating as I wipe them on my pajama bottoms. “Powers first.” I nod, trying to look like I wasn’t about to combust into a panic attack from the intensity of his gaze. His smile is sharp and slightly predatory.

Mother walks in with her pale green silk pajamas and matching robe, looking like she had stepped out of a magazine. Everything about her is perfect. Even the way she walks, she is the perfect wife in looks alone. The cameras and news outlets love to follow and take pictures of all of us. Mother, at one point, was a starlet. When she walked into the room, people held their breath. They stopped whatever they were doing to watch her as if she held them spellbound. She insisted she had no siren or succubus inside her—only pure caster abilities.

They are the perfect couple. She gave up the life she had been living and went all in with my father, the career politician and starlet actress. Mother opened doors for him, helping him push forward the policies he wanted to pass. Now, he is more famous than she ever had been. Our lives have always been under a microscope. She walks over and kisses the top of his dark head.

“What are we doing this morning?” She wipes her hands on her pajamas and fidgets with the tie of her robe. Her bottom lip is between her teeth as she sits on his knee. Terror grips my chest once more, and my legs wobble. My hand reaches out to the island next to me to steady myself. My head turns, and I look around, trying to figure out what is happening. I slightly narrow my eyes on her. She is not one to fidget. Is this feeling coming from her? Is something wrong with her, or is she trying to make my birthday about her? Why can she not let me havea day? Anger flares inside me, pushing down the panic that overloads my system.

Even my father notices and frowns as he looks toward her. “Everything okay, dearest?” His tone has an edge, giving my stomach a sinking feeling, but I can feel my anger overshadowing that. As I stand there, my lips pinch into a hard line, my hands forming into fists. Of course, she would try to make this day about her. She wouldn’t do this for Lulu or Oliver. No, only me. She hasn’t even told me happy birthday.

There is a rage building inside of me. The feeling seems to take over. All my other emotions have never felt this powerful. This feeling seems to consume me, like a part of me is drowning in the feeling. Something is pushing out from inside of me, and the feeling fuels me past my normal levels. My limbs begin to shake down into my hands. A bone-chilling coldness has taken root inside of them. That should have been enough to snap me out of my thoughts and stop my spiraling. Because I should have known better, should have known that it wasn’t ever going to be about me.

When my mother’s eyes lock back on mine, all I see is fear reflecting in them as the shadows from the room seem to grow. The walls bleed with the darkness, and the shadows wrap around me like a second skin. My eyes widen as they whisper encouragement and seek to comfort me. My shadows realize it is anger and not a danger before I do. They are trying to calm me. My shadows slightly tickle as they move over me, attempting to absorb into my skin. When they finally do, I smile at my father.

However, my smile disappears when I meet my father’s hard eyes. He shoves my mother off his lap and onto the floor. His chair falls backward as he backhands my mother across the face. My father stomps over to me. The floors seem almost to groan with every step. His hand reaches out and grabs myarm before jerking me forward, causing me to fall to my knees. “Is this something you thought I could overlook?” He screams at my mother, who sobs on the floor. “Maybe if she had your powers? Is that what you hoped? She has dark hair, so maybe you could pass her off as mine? Who did you fuck?” He screams as he drags me over so he is standing over her. “Who did you stay with? You told me nothing but lies!”

“Please, let me take her to him.” I am so shocked that I can’t move. My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. With my arm still gripped in his hand, he strikes her face. You can hear the bone crack as blood falls from his fist, and I cannot help but watch it as it falls to the floor.

“You finally admit there is a him! Well, fucking finally! Don’t you dare sit there and look at me like you didn’t see this happening! Did you hope she was mine? You’re many things, but stupid isn’t one of them.” His gaze looks back down at me, gripping my arm harder. My shadows try to help, but I don’t know how to control them. It seems they are almost petting him as they try to bat him away. His nostrils flare with anger, and I can feel his hate for me spilling out as if it were my own. His voice is now like venom. “Maybe you are because you should have disposed of her. She is tainted! It would have been much kinder to snuff her out before you had her, or even as a baby.”

My mother sobs so hard, tears streaming together with the blood that is trickling down from her broken nose. Her right eye is already swelling shut. She tries to catch the blood between her fingers, not wanting it to drip onto the white floors. Snot and blood mix, along with streams of tears and mascara. Is she crying for me? “Let me take her to him.”

My blood turns cold, and I can’t breathe as fear takes hold of me. I think I am about to die. There are so many things I want to do in this life. I have barely scratched the surface.

“How could you be so stupid?” He hits her again when she tries to sit up and move closer to me. I’m so scared that I can’t move even if I want to. “It won’t be me that hurts her. However, she is going to wish that you would have killed her when you had the chance.” My vision goes spotty before going black.

Chapter three

My breath catches inmy throat as I choke on the memories of waking up in this hellhole. I remember how my time here began by pleading with anyone to let me have another chance. For them to call my family and tell them I could change, that I will be a better daughter if they give me another chance. Maybe in time, my mother could reason with him and they would return to get me out of this place. I held onto hope for days, but days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and nobody came. That’s when reality set in that nobody would. I often wonder if they think of me or if I died in their minds at when they handed me over to this place.

I’ve been here for so long. Years have passed, yet I am not sure how many. My eyes look down at the cuffs that adorn my wrists. They have been with me since that very first day. I trace my fingertips over them as I listen to the new arrival sobs. Myfinger traces over the markings that have been etched magically into the metal. It’s a habit I have picked up that helps soothe me when everything feels out of control. It causes me to wonder how something so small can have so much power over you. When these cuffs close around our wrists, it cuts off our magic, trapping it inside us. We are left with the physical aspects of our species. They leave them unchained until the guards add them for transportation. With every person who gets forced to join our motley crew, I often wonder about their life. Were they living on the streets, kidnapped, or, like me, a dirty secret? A secret that, if brought to light, might shine a light on the monster that smiles so pretty for the cameras. No matter what, if he says the right things, he can spin any lie and make it beautiful. After all, isn’t that why lies were made? Because sometimes, the truth is so ugly that you can’t bear to let it out.

I can’t say much regarding lying because I lie to myself daily. That beautiful lie that helps me to keep going, the lie that maybe today will be better, even though I know it won’t be. Every day is always ugly and twisted, but there is something inside of me that won’t let me die. No matter how often they try to break me, I don’t give up. Mostly, it’s 203 that pushes me to survive. The day he dies is the day I give up and join him whenever that may be. I haven’t voiced that to him, but I believe it went without saying; I think it’s the same for him. “Will you stop moving so much? Some of us can sleep through the new recruits.” The whisper meets my ears from the small imperfection of my cell that brings me joy. He is so grumpy, but I love that about him.

“I can’t control what memories I got to keep.” My hand touches the metal wall between us as I close my eyes and wish the metal wasn’t there. Whatever Dr Vic did to my brain worked too well. 203 and I discuss nothing too personal. We do this to protect ourselves in case our secret gets revealed. Everything can be used against us and we want to protect each other at all costs.However, 203 understands how much I struggle when they bring in new people. A few years ago, I would sit in the corner by the entry bars. You can’t see inside the cells of anyone else. Magic prevents it. Yet, I used to believe that maybe they would feel someone who is in solidarity with them. At least I no longer cry for them.

“Fuck feelings.” He mutters quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear. Our cots in the corners help us hear even when it’s quiet. We rarely talk long in case it brings attention to our small secret. “You and me. That’s all you need to worry about.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. I sigh and stare at the metal ceiling, wondering if someone is above me. “Can you tell me what you miss most?”

There was a small growl before a slight grumble of a chuckle. “If I tell you, will you go back to sleep?”

“Yep,” I smirk and beam slightly, feeling as if I won something.

“Probably my brother, but even he is fading. What about you?”

“Food. But, the feeling of the sunlight on your face as the grass blows in the wind, tickling your ankles. I want to return to the beach and lie on the sand.” I let out a small giggle and almost felt his eyes roll.

“You’re so fucking weird. I would like to see that, though. Maybe I will join you on that beach. So, no family?”

“Fuck them. They are the reason I’m in this hellhole.” I roll over to face the wall. When I hear the three taps from his side. I smile and tap four times back. My eyes close, and I fall back asleep with a smile on my lips. In my head, I know what those taps mean. I love you. I love you, too.

As I doze back off, I think about 203. He is a fighter like me. That’s the path we have chosen when coming into the facility. Not that there is much of a choice when you arrive in this shithole. We are prisoners of a group of people who were born without powers or gifts run this place. They believe we are an abomination. People often fear what they don’t understand. Fearing us has caused them to want to control us, experiment on us, make money from us, and finally dissect us once our usefulness has run out. If you weren’t born here, you can become a breeder or a fighter. This is a simple decision for me because I would never want to subject someone else to this life, especially an innocent baby. However, my thoughts often go to the ones who were born here. This place is home.

Cuffs were added to both of my wrists, along with an implant to prevent pregnancy. Once more, a shiver passes over my body as I run my hand along my arm, passing the implant up to my cuff. How many times have I tried to take these damn cuffs off? As I touch the scars that live under and around the cuffs, it feels like too many to count.

203 knocks loudly on the side of the wall. “295, get your lazy ass up! I am tired of hearing your shit! Get up. It’s morningroutine time. We’re not allowed to have vacations or sick days!” His hands drum on the wall, annoying me to no end. I know he means well. We push each other to keep us ready and help each other survive the next day.

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