Page 86 of Resistant

Some days, I wish my boys were here to see all of this splendor, and I remember that this is my own personal prison, and they wouldn’t enjoy any of this if they knew I’d be trapped here for the rest of my life.

I daydream that there is no Knox, and that my boys can be here, reading in the library, playing football on the lawns, eating decadent foods they have never seen before, and sleeping under the same roof as their mom. At night, I think of Declan, his easy smile, his devotion to me, the deep timbre of his voice.

A week after Declan left, I found the sim card to my phone in one of my shoes. It took me another week to find the phone Declan hid, it was taped to the back of my toilet in my private bathroom. I powered it up, fear gripped me in its fist and turned it off before any messages could come through. It’s still hidden there behind the toilet. I’m living in a state of numbness that I can’t allow Declan to thaw until I find a way out.

The library has become my haven, my only means of escape. I spend most of my days here.

I settle in my favorite chair and crack open a book, eager to live an adventure that is not mine. The story is gripping and the walls around me fade from existence.

I shudder involuntarily at the sound of ice cubes hitting the bottom of a glass tumbler.

Knox is here.

“Are you enjoying yourself ma lagniappe?”

I close my eyes. I know what is expected of me. I still find it hard to bend to Knox’s rules.

“Yes, sir.”

“We are having guests over this evening for dinner. I’m concerned you might not behave yourself, so I’ve come up with a gift. A gift you won’t want to refuse should you cooperate.”

“A gift? What could I possibly want from you Knox?” I bite my tongue before saying more. I’m sure I will be punished.

“Information, about your sons, and Declan.”

My heart flips in my chest and I know I cannot refuse him anything.

“What are the rules?”

“You will dress in something I have picked for the occasion, no deviations. You will convince our guests that you are here willingly, and that you and I are involved. I’ll require that you are affectionate with me, so that there is no question about the nature of our relationship. You will be charming and have all the male guests eating out of your palm. Make them believe that you are attracted to them, that they have a chance with you. It’s important that they support my future endeavors.”

His eyes turn dark. My stomach sours and I feel nerves flutter in my gut. I hate myself for giving into his demands just to get any scrap of information about my family.

“Ma lagniappe.”

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t get any wicked ideas, I will not share you.”

Most of the guests arrive with a spouse. After my initial shock and misinterpretation of exactly how Knox expected me to charm these men, I settled into my role.

The guests are all introduced to me using only first names, a fact that disturbs me. What are these people hiding?

The conversation around the table is mostly political. I listen intently, trying to follow as many conversations as I can. I’ve been so far removed from society and have no idea what was happening outside. I ask questions, trying to gain the attention of the men at the table.

After dinner, the women are excused to a drawing room, and Knox asks me to retire to my room.

I’m confused, and start to protest. His palm grips the back of my neck, and he leans in close blocking my face from view.

“You are not to socialize with anyone if I am not present ma lagniappe. It’s safer for you this way.”

He can stop wasting his breath, none of those women would throw a cup a water on me if I was on fire.

I found the women’s conversations dull at the dinner table. Most topics discussed revolved around obtaining things and how difficult it was to shop. I have no interest in a privileged life. These women consider the current state of our country a nuisance.

I dutifully retreat to my room. I take a shower scrubbing off the pretention and feigned sexual interest from the evening.

I’m dripping wet with a towel clasped in my hands and I find my attention rivetted to the toilet. The hidden phone mocks me. There are people in the house, can I get away with using the phone? I turn the shower back on wiping the drips from my fingers. My hands shake as I carefully peel back the tape and grip the phone. I’m naked and dripping on the rug while the phone powers on. A burst of text messages scrolls in front of my eyes, and before I can read anything pounding footsteps thump up the stairs approaching my room.

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