Page 12 of The Freedom in Captivity

“Asshole.”

I am, but now, I want to show her just how much of one I can be. Lifting to my feet, I say nothing to her as I stomp up the wooden steps and into the hallway again, the mansion’s warmth so different from the frigid temperatures of the cement basement.

It takes me a minute before I’m returning to her, a fleece blanket and pillow tucked beneath my arms. The moment she spots the stuff, her expression lights up in the same way I used to appreciate, but she quickly folds her lips together, trying to hold back her excitement.

I toss the items by her feet where both land on the dirty ground. Then I return to my spot at the base of the staircase.

“Got you a bed.”

She gapes at me, scoffing. “Getting me a bed involves allowing me to getintothe bed, dick.”

“Oh, my little captive,” I purr, each word inviting in its own way, “you name-call, I’ll show you how much I deserve that name. Now you can spend days staring at something you want but is just out of reach.”

Her jaw clenches and not even a beat later, she mutters, “I have to piss.”

“Suffer.” I recline back against the staircase, staring at her through the dim lighting. This time, she can curse me all she wants, but I’d like to see how long it takes before her bodily needs become too much for her.

Rozelyn

Hours pass. Maybe. It’s difficult to tell because the lack of windows down here gives me nothing to go on. And Flynn, who remains stoic at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly staring at nothing, is no help either.

In those hours, I try to ignore the gentle throbbing in my bladder that increases with the passing time. I despise my body for its natural needs and ignoring it only goes so far. I squirm in my seat, hoping a new angle will take away the pressure on my bladder, but it doesn’t.

My mind drifts through every topic as a distractor but centres mainly on my sister. The hug she gave me before getting into the vehicle with Dad to escape the city. The way she clung to me when I reassured her I’d be fine.

And Iwillbe. We both will, after I finish this.

“I still need to go,” I finally admit with a grumble. “And before you tell me to suffer again, just know, I am.”

“Good,” he shoots back right away, immediately coming out of his silence. “I’ll get you a bucket then.”

He lifts to his feet and ascends a step before I stop him with an, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Flynn pauses, glancing past the wooden post connecting the staircase to the ceiling until finding me, his brows lifting. “Why would you think I’m not? You’re not getting out of here for anything.”

Because basic fucking human decency says a bucket isn’t the most humane method.

“Where the hell do you think I’d escape to? Even if I tried, I’m sure this place is crawling with people who’d love to shoot me.”

“So you see then, maybe the bucket is for your protection.” He shoots me a cocky grin. “Soldiers aside, consider who else is up there. I believe your ex-stepsisters would love to get a hit or two in.

Della and Ariella. How had I forgotten about them? Dad knows Della ended up on Nico’s side, but I never considered what happened to Ariella after their marriage. I guess it’s not surprising Ariella’s moved into the Corsetti mansion.

I was always such a bitch to them. When their entire family came into my life, I hated them simply for trying to replace Mom. Mom was irreplaceable, yet Dad was doing exactly that, which made no sense considering the love he claimed to have for her.

We were all destroyed by the loss of Mom, but Dad especially. I later learned that he might have married Mom as part of his grand plan, but he genuinely fell in love with her. Losing her reminded Dad of his entire purpose for being in Montreal and he didn’t handle this reminder well. He became different…more erratic. In ways, nicer at first, but then crueller. He came down harder on me. His frustrations got heavier, and so did the abuse.

But when everything with Hawke Corsetti had gone down and the man I was supposed to be eventually engaged to—a fact I learnedafter—fled the city, Dad’s entire plan came crashing down around him. If he was crazy before, the loss of the union to the eldest Corsetti made him deranged.

From there, all of his actions got out of hand. That was when he began bringing me into the fold, and when he inserted himself into the Lambert woman’s life and wooed her children. Although Dad’s emotions were fake, hers weren’t, and I despised seeing them fawn over each other. Then came Della and Ariella, who moved into rooms in the same wing as Yasmine and me.

So yeah, I was a bitch. I hated everything Dad was doing and was powerless to stop it. Watching three innocent people fall for his bullshit angered me—for them. But my heart was tormented by the fact that she took the name of stepmother when I barely could go a length of time without thinking about Mom.

I was a conflicted mess, forced to exist on the outside. My entire life had purpose—hispurpose, and I loathed it.

When Della and Ariella lost their mother, I was silently sympathetic, having gone through an identical loss myself, but by this point, I shut my emotions off. The darkness had far consumed me, and it was easiernotto feel. To let Dad play his games, knowing the Lambert sisters would be used in ways I couldn’t stop. Fighting him, fighting the war for their benefit, was useless, so I shut down. Acted nasty because it was easier to pretend than to be the friend who’d later stab them in the back.

“I know what I did, and I won’t apologize,” I finally admit with a shrug.

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