Page 113 of The Lair

He turns to look directly into one of the cameras.

“In order to ensure a successful escape from her family home in Los Angeles, Allison Buccieri made a video showcasing her parents’ abuse over the years and threatened to release it to the press if they ever contacted her again. Which they did, only days ago. Eden Productions will now show you the video that protected Allison all these years.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Age 19

“Hi,Mom, Dad. I… I don’t know how to start this video. I’m shaking a little bit.”

For years, I’d watched my mother record countless sit-down videos like this one in her office. She’d show her most recent makeup purchases, new clothes, and answer questions from her audience. She made it look so natural, like it was as easy as talking to us.

But as I sat on my bed with one of her cameras recording on a tripod, my heart raced, and my palms sweated with nerves. Because no, it didn’t feel natural at all.

And what I was about to do didn’t help.

I forced myself to keep going despite my throat feeling like someone had stuck cotton balls in it.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving Los Angeles, and I’m doing it willingly. Nobody is forcing me, blackmailing me, threatening me, or anything else. This is entirely my choice. I’m not telling you where I’m going. Don’t expect any updates from me. I don’t want updates from you either. This may be shocking to you, and I understand that. But I’ve tried talking to you over the years, and you never listened.”

I took a deep breath through my mouth and said the same thing I’d said a million times before. Only, this time, I hoped they would listen.

“I’ve told you countless times that I don’t want to be part of this social media circus you’ve roped me into since I was nine years old. I never wanted to be in your videos or photos. They stopped being fun when both of you forced me to be in them and threatened me if I refused. No parent should treat their child like a slave, but that’s exactly what I’ve been for you for the past ten years. I’ve been a content-making machine when I never consented to be. Yes, Mom,consented. It’s a big word, as you mocked not long ago, but I know exactly what it means. Doyou?”

The red light on the camera stared back at me. The silence in the house became too heavy, and I knew I had to be done with this before my parents came back.

“You’ve emotionally and physically abused me. You are the reason I got kidnapped and nearly sold into a child trafficking ring. You’ve put me in danger more times than I can count, more times than I can remember. My teachers and the police have told you to stop, but the fact that I’m filming this video is proof that you haven’t. That you put money before your children, and you don’t care about the consequences it has for us. I can’t protect Johnny and Cindy, but I need to protect myself. And maybe that makes me selfish and a terrible sister, but I can’t stay here anymore no matter how much I love them and wish to see them grow up. I don’t want to blame you for this because leaving is my choice, but at the same time, I can’t deny you’re forcingme to do this. I have no other choice.

“I don’t want you to contact me again. I don’t want you to talk about me online ever again. If you do, you must know I have a copy of this video, and I won’t hesitate to show it to the press and expose you for who you truly are. I’m not scared of you.”

I was. I really was.

“You might be thinking no one will believe me because I’m a child, and you’re influential people, so keep watching and decide for yourself.”

My chest deflated with one last shaky breath. I stood from my bed, hovered my finger over the Stop button, and paused.

“You’ve ruined my life.”

I stopped recording.

Before the gravity of what I’d done dawned on me, I quickly transferred the video to my laptop. Then I searched for what I was looking for on my mother’s and rushed to take it back to her office.

Over the years, my mother had kept her raw video files on the cloud—including the footage where I complained, cried, and yelled because I didn’t want to be on camera. She cut those clips out of the videos she posted, but she never deleted them.

Locked in my bedroom, I spent the next two hours adding those clips to my video—me sobbing uncontrollably when I begged her not to film my red sheets the day I got my first period; our fight in which I snatched her camera when Milo died, including her grabbing me by the back of my hair and pushing me into my room; me complaining when she forced me to be in promotional campaigns I didn’t want to participate in; both of my parents calling me a brat and threatening to send me to bed on an empty stomach if I didn’t cooperate.

I wished there was proof of every single thing they’d done to me. I wished I had a functional family and didn’t need to make this video at all.

I wish, wish, wish.

When I saved the final copy and uploaded it to different accounts on the cloud so it’d never get lost, I shut my laptop and stared off at the garden on the other side of my window.

I couldn’t lie to myself—a part of me wished this video was made public so everyone would see the kind of monsters they supported.

More wishes.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I fightwith all I have to keep my eyes on the screen as George and I watch my video together. When it ends, you could hear a pin drop in the studio.

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