Page 97 of Mind Maze

I can’t escape it.

Why does he do this to me?

Sometimes I wish my mind would actually shatter like he wants it to. Every time I think it will, though, a sliver of reality shines its way through. A memory of Mom or Dad. The way the grass used to feel on my bare feet in the field behind our house. Scents of something sweet as Mom made homemade cinnamon rolls. The sound of Dad’s deep, rumbling laughter that was contagious for everyone.

I miss them.

God, I miss them.

Someone curses and then lights come on, blinding me. The scenes being shown to me are shut off. Silence fills the room. All I can hear is the blood rushing to my ears. He comes to stand in front of me and then strikes me with such force I taste blood.

“What are you doing? How are you doing that?” he demands, fury dripping from his words. “Tell me, you stupid piece of shit.”

I’m used to his bouts of rage.

It means I’m winning.

I grin at him, blood no doubt covering my teeth. “Like I’ll ever tell you.”

This infuriates him. He hits me again, this time, the action making me dizzy. I know he’s experimenting on me. He’s trying to force me to think bad things, but I always remember good things. It ruins it every time.

“You’re such a disappointment,” he snarls. “I am doing good work here, unlocking secret parts of the human psyche, and you’re doing your damnedest to stop me. Perhaps you should spend some time alone to think about your actions.”

He thinks being put in solitary confinement is hurtful. To me, it’s a rest from his torture. I cry so he’ll think I don’t want that when it’s what I desperately need right now. At least then, I can be alone with memories of my parents.

My phone buzzes, jarring me from the past. I hate how my teeth chatter as the fear haunts me like an icy, arctic blast. I’m dizzied, but I snap out of it, realizing Dad is calling.

“Hello?” My voice is hoarse and barely audible.

“Hello, Son,” Dad says in a pleasant tone. “Busy morning?”

I clear my throat, forcing myself to sound more normal. “You could say that. Theo with you?”

“Why don’t you come over and we’ll have a little chat?”

Anger bubbles up inside of me. There were many times I wanted to kill Dad in the beginning after he adopted me. The mind games were never ending. I played him, letting him think I was his perfect, dutiful son, but his expert ability to fuck with my mind never waned.

“Where are you?” I ask, kicking off my stupid loafers so I can change into something more comfortable.

Dad chuckles, the sound dark and ominous. “At your future father-in-law’s. We’re waiting.”

I pull on a new pair of shoes and stuff the picture I’d found into my jacket pocket. “I’ll be there soon.”

I’m not sure what to expect with this meeting, but I know what I’ll demand.

Answers.

No more games.

No more lies.

No more mindfuckery.

Just answers.

I’ll get those answers even if I have to beat the truth out of them.

Romy

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