Page 65 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

The look my father gives me, however, lets me know my presence is not optional.

I take a seat at the end of the table, furthest away from everyone. Glancing to where my mother sits to the left of Colin, I notice the dark rings that line her lifeless eyes and take in her waxy complexion as she uses her fork to push food around her plate, never taking a bite.

She hasn’t spoken once through this whole exchange, refusing to even look at me. Any modicum of that fire she showed in the car has now been snuffed out.

And again, I can’t help but wonder just how she got mixed up in all this.

If there was any hope she may be the one to help me out of this situation, it disappears as she continues to sit silently by her husband's side. I know she is likely a victim too, but that doesn’t stop the anger and resentment I feel for her that grows with each passing moment.

I must remind myself that I don’t know her situation or the things she has gone through. One thing I do know is that this sad, broken woman cannot help herself, let alone me. If I want to get out of here, it looks like I’m on my own.

Once back inside my room,I discreetly remove the small knife I commandeered from the breakfast table from the sleeve of my sweater. It’s small but sharp, and having it makes me feel safer. Plus, I remind myself, I’ve made do with worse.

After stowing it under my pillow, I pace the floor, trying to formulate an escape plan.

My family is completely insane, and I have to get out of here.

I don’t know what day it is or how long I was out before I got here. It’s possible no one has even realized I’m missing yet. At this point, I have to assume no one is looking for me.

And even if they are, I have no clue how long it will be before anyone is able to locate me—given I don’t even know where I am.

But I refuse to sit here like a helpless princess locked in her tower, waiting for some prince charming to save me while my psycho family arrange to marry me off.

If my father expects me to be some meek and dutiful daughter, he has another thing coming.

I am not my mother, and I refuse to be pushed around.

If he’s not careful, he will learn that we may be more alike than he realizes.

25

Maggie

Several hours later, however, I am no closer to figuring a way out of here than when I started.

A single knock at the door interrupts my fruitless pacing and plotting. The same young girl as always enters with my lunch tray.

“Please help me,” I beg. “You don’t even have to do anything. Just—just forget to lock the door behind you. I have to get out of here. Please. I promise, I won’t get caught, and if I do, I won’t tell them you helped me.”

But, like every time before, my pleas are ignored as she goes on about her task, placing my lunch tray on the desk before turning to walk back out the door.

When she reaches for the handle, I stop her with a hand on her arm. Her wide brown eyes flash to mine, full of fear, and my hands recoils.

“Please…just—please don’t lock the door,” I whisper.

I swear, she gives me a look that is almost apologetic, but it'sthere and gone in a flash.

She opens the door and walks out.

With the click of the lock, a wave of despair crashes into me so hard, it’s as if my feet have been swept out from beneath me. Suddenly, I’m being tossed out to sea, the icy water flooding my lungs, choking me until I can no longer breathe.

“Let me out of here! Please—just let me go!”

I continue to cry out, beating my fists against the door until the skin on my knuckles becomes bruised and bloody. I sag to the floor in defeat, my arms coming around to hug my knees to my chest.

Curled up on the cold floor, I fall apart.

For the first time since I got here, I allow myself to truly think of Archer, of our one perfect night together before it all fell apart, of the tender way he held me when he made love to me and the devastation in his eyes when I walked away.

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