Page 36 of The Devil Within

Revenge has driven me for most of my life. Everything I’ve done, every decision I’ve made, has been for revenge. But what if there’s something more important than revenge? I’m starting to wonder if these women that have wrapped their way around my heart and soul, constricting until I’m entirely consumed by them, are more important than my need for revenge.

Once I convince Liv to be with us, maybe I’ll just take my girls and leave. We could go somewhere warm. The thought of both my girls relaxing on the beach, wearing skimpy little swimsuits, makes my cock twitch underneath the sheets. Fuck, they’d both look so good laying out in the sand in very minimal clothing.

Maybe once this all is done we can be free. Maybe we could even be a family. Maybe even a monster like me can have a happily ever after.

TWENTY-TWO

Celeste

Panic Room by Au/Ra

A few weeks later

“You need to make sure the dough stays cool, dear, or it won’t laminate and the layers won’t turn out,” the sweet old lady says as she folds up my mess of pastry neatly and shuts it back in the refrigerator.

Mrs. Prichett is a saint. She’s literally the nicest woman that I have ever talked to. I’m fairly certain she’s in her late sixties, even though we’ve never discussed her age. Her gray curls are always swept into a tidy bun on the top of her head, and her blue eyes sparkle with delight every time she sees me. It’s like having a grandmother, but one who’s not a fucking judgmental bitchthat believes you need the lord’s law beaten into you.

“Okay, so refrigerate again, then roll out?” I confirm as I wash the pasty butter and flour goop from my fingers.

She plants a sweet kiss on my cheek. “Then put it in the tin, add the filling, and bake,” she confirms for what is probably the thousandth time.

I just don’t want to mess this up. I’ve never made a pie on my own before and despite myself, I really want to impress Luke. I know I don’t need to impress him, I’m his damn captive after all, but Iwantto impress him. When he looks at me with a certain glint in his eye and calls me his good girl … well, it does things to my insides.

“Can I make you a cup of tea before you go?” I ask as I move to fill the kettle.

“That’d be lovely, dear,” my only friend says before sitting with an audible sigh.

I place tea bags inside two mugs and pour the boiling water over the top before bringing the saucers to the table. We sit in comfortable silence for a moment and enjoy the late morning light streaming in through the large windows. The house might be old and gothic but it still manages to get a good amount of natural light through the expansive windows. The branches of the mature trees that surround the house cast dancing shadows across the marble countertops. Living here is almost like living in an antique treehouse. I couldn’t have picked a better house if I’d tried.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally ask Mrs. Prichett.

“Of course, dear.” Her voice is warm and soothing. She reminds me of a librarian I had when I was in elementary school.

School was always a reprieve for me as a child; a calming place where I could be free from the oppressive darkness at home. It was a place where I could just be a carefree kid. And our school librarian, Mrs. Briggs, was always so kind to me. She’d let mestay late and read books after hours to avoid going home. I think she knew that I was trying to hide from my own household but she never said anything. She just left me in peace, allowing me to escape reality, even for a moment, in the pages of a book. That’s how Mrs. Prichett is—she’s not nosy but she understands what’s going on in this house. She’s kind and understanding without prying.

“You must know that something is off here…” I trail off, gauging her reaction but she gives me nothing. She simply stares down at her tea. “Why haven’t you offered to help me?” I finish on almost a whisper.

There’s a long pause. We both pull the steeping bags from the warm liquid and sip our tea.

“Do youneedhelp?” she finally asks.

I’m not sure how to respond.

“Listen, my dear,” her hand lands on top of mine, the warmth immediately comforting me. “Luke is like my son. I’ve been looking after him since he was a very young man. I know he’s not a saint. I’m not blind. But he’s not a bad man. Whatever he’s done, there must have been a good reason for it.”

Is there a good reason for me being here? Is everything he’s done to me justified? Is he a good man wearing the mask of a devil, or a devil disguised as a man?

“He kidnapped me,” I finally respond, not sure what else there is to say.

Her soft gaze searches mine for a moment before she smiles sweetly. “The door isn’t locked, dear. The only thing keeping you here is yourself.”

She’s not wrong. The doors have never been locked. I’m not chained and jailed. At least, not most days. The keys to the cars in the garage are hanging on a hook on the wall behind Mrs. Prichett’s head. I could easily run right now and never look back.

So why am I still here?

The truth is, the thought of leaving racks me with anxiety. I may not have come here of my own free will, but each day I spend here with Luke is better than the day before. This has become my home. I’m happy here.

He may wear the mask of a devil, but maybe Luke is my own fucked up brand of a knight in shining armor.

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