Page 77 of Daughter of a Monster

I push his hand away. “Why not? It’s true. Or have you suddenly changed your mind and you’re going to let me go?”

His eyes drop to the ground. “No.”

“So why shouldn’t I say that? Why should I hold on to any hope that I’ll see them again?”

He gets to his feet and shrugs. “You never know. You might see them again.”

“Don’t do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t try to give me hope. It’s not worth the pain.”

He sighs and pulls down his balaclava so it covers his mouth. “I thought you were tougher than that. It’s in your name for god’s sake.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

He walks toward the wire and slips through the gate.

“Where are you going?”

As much as I despise the man, I still don’t want him to leave. I hate being alone. But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he just walks up the steps, out the door and into the world I’ve given up hope of ever seeing again.

I’m missing something. I can feel it in my bones. It’s there, just out of my reach, but I don’t know what it is. I’ve become obsessed with finding it, some sort of pattern, some sort of clue in his behavior I’m not seeing. I feel as though if I could just figure out what it is, something would happen. The key would turn in the lock. The door would burst open. I would escape. It’s crazy, I know. Maybe I’ve gone demented from spending so much time alone.

I keep scraps of paper under the mattress. They have detailed accounts of what he’s wearing, the things he says, the way he smells, the changes in his manners and moods. But as far as what they tell me, they may as well be random words on a page.

Sometimes I dream about being saved. Someone bursts through the door, sunlight spilling onto the floor as they run down the steps. No doubt I’ll cower in the corner, wondering what fresh horrors this new person will bring, but then they’ll say, “It’s okay.”

They’ll approach me slowly, hands out wide, showing they mean no harm. They’ll show their face and it will be kind and calm, filled with compassion for the trapped girl in the cell. “I’m here to help. You’re safe now.”

Then and only then, do I feel any hope.

Until I wake.

And when I wake, I cry. That moment when I realize it was just a dream is worse than not dreaming at all. Because that snippet of freedom, that overwhelming feeling of relief and happiness that I’ve been found, is hope.

And I can’t afford hope.

Hope hurts too much.

Keep reading for a sneak peek of Part Two of the Black Swan Trilogy, Searching for Hope.

note to the reader

Thank you so much for reading Daughter of a Monster. I loved writing Berkley’s story and her struggle with the sins of her father, so I really hope you enjoyed it too!

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