Page 130 of Can You Take It?

“No,” he says sharply. “She’s just out cold. Get her some blankets.”

“She might be dying,” I insist. “Do you hate us that much now?”

His eyes flash with anger. “She wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for you,” he snarls. “You’re the reason she’s dying. She nearly died giving birth to you, you know that? She’s been a shadow of herself ever since.”

The words cut deep, but I push the guilt aside. This isn’t the time for self-pity. I know he doesn’t hate my mother. If anything, she’s the only woman he’s ever cared about. His rage isn’t just about me; it’s about losing control over her.

“She’s not going to make it if we don’t get her out of here,” I say. “I know you care about her. Please, don’t let her die like this.”

“I can’t risk it,” he says finally, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Please,Dad,” I whisper. “Please, let her out.”

Dad. The word burns like acid in my throat, but it’s worth it. I see his expression shifting, softening

Victor is not my grandfather because he ismy father.

I was seventeen when my mother sat me down and told me how Victor had coerced her into staying with him. The way he had made me believe that his actions were normal, that what he did to me was just a part of life. I remember her saying that I was becoming too comfortable with it, that I was accepting it as something routine. That realization still makes me gag. I didn’t know then that what he was doing was wrong. How could I? I’d never seen the world beyond these four walls. I didn’t understand that a father was not supposed to make “love” to his child.

Victor gently places my mother’s body on the ground and stands up, crossing the room. He opens a door to a small hidden compartment, one I’ve seen before but was never able to unlock. My heart races as he rummages through it, and I try to look over his shoulder from a distance, but I can’t see what he’s doing.

When he turns around, I give him a nervous smile. My eyes move down and freeze on the vest he’s holding. It’s loaded with explosives.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I scoff. “What the hell is that for?”

“You’re going to wear it,” he says, as if it’s the most reasonable thing in the world.

“Are you fucking insane?” I snap, taking a step back. “There’s no way in hell I’m putting that on.”

His grip tightens on the vest. “You don’t have a choice, Izel. This is the only way I can control the situation.”

“Please,” I beg. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says coldly.

“Why not?” I demand. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I just want to get Mom out of here.”

“You’re too close to them,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t trust you.”

Our argument is cut short by a slight movement from my mother. She shifts before falling unconscious again.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll wear it.”

Victor’s expression softens momentarily. He hands me his coat, and I slip it on over the explosive vest. He covers my mom with blankets and carries her in his arms. As he punches in the code to unlock the door. I can’t shake the thought that I’ve never left or entered this place without being blindfolded or knocked unconscious.

We walk through one more door, and world slips away from beneath me. We’re in the basement of Montclair Manor. These walls that should have sheltered me only echoed the screams I couldn't voice.

I don’t say anything as Victor and I climb the stairs. He opens the basement door, double-checks to see if anyone’s watching, and after finding the coast clear, we walk out. After a few steps,he leads me to the backyard. He puts my mom in the car and turns to me.

“Stay here,” he orders. “I need to inform your grandmother. I’ll be out in a minute.”

I nod, trying to keep my breathing steady. As he heads back into the house, my mind races, searching for any possible way out of here. This whole thing just backfired. The explosive vest is heavy and uncomfortable, a constant reminder of how precarious my situation is.

From outside, I can hear him talking to my grandmother. “I’m taking Isla to the doctor,” he says.

“What happened to Isla?”

“She’s not feeling well,” he lies smoothly. I glance around, not interested in whatever bullshit story he’s spinning.

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