Page 95 of Ensnared

“What’shappening?”Iask, thoughIdread the non-answerIknow is coming.

Jasperregards me through his pretty mask—impenetrable, except for those exhausted rings around his eyes. “It’snothing that need worry you.We’llmake sure of that.Youshould get some rest,Eden.It’sbeen a long day for you.”

Hotembers start to smoke inside me.

“Don’tpatronize me,Jasper,”Ireply sharply. “Anddon’t flatter yourself.Todaymeant nothing.”

And,God,Iwish it were the truth.Iwant it to be true.

Ideserve better than all of this.

Jasperhesitates, scanning my face, and sadness sinks into his tired eyes.Heinclines his head and leaves, the door closing with brutal softness behind him.

Bastard, bastard,bastard!

Histruth-telling only extends to the past then,Isuppose.

Isthis my new normal?Tobe lied to and ignored every time something serious happens?MaybeI’mthe wind-up doll, notJayk.Ido my one trick on command and thenI’mto be put back in my box until they want me again.Despitemy promises to myself thatIcan handle it... well,I’mstarting to think that was the worst lie of them all.

Oncehe leaves,Ilook betweenBeauandLucky, who linger like awkward teenagers.Iknow what they’re going to say, and the vindictiveValkyriestarting to grow inside of me wants them to do it.Tolie to my face.Topalm me off with another platitude.Thesetwo who, out of all of them, promised friendship and trust.

Maybeit’s anotherscuffle.It’sa snarky thought, but really, whatever it is, surelyIcan help?Dothey truly thinkI’mso entirely incompetent?

Whenboth of them hesitate, neither looking at me,Isnap. “Well?”

Luckyrubs both hands over his face.Thelook he levels at the door settles into something ice cold.Ascold asJasper’swintery goodbye.Beauis staring down at his bowl, and he flinches, just slightly, at my tone.

Ipush up from my seat roughly, throwing down my napkin.Istart gathering plates.

Lucky’scold expression cracks. “God,Eden, don’t do that.”

Thebowls clack loudly against one another asIstack them.

Beau’sbreath comes out in a low, pained gust. “Gomeet them,Lucky.I’vegot this.”

“But—”Helooks at me like he aches.Nota playful, hangdog expression, but full of real pain.

Itdoesn’t seem to make his mouth work, though.

Beaustands, then says gently, “Goon, now.”

Luckyreaches for me, then seems to think better of it. “I’msorry.I’mso sorry,Eden.”

Iduck my head down, blinking, trying to work out how many more bowlsIcan carry.They’rehard to see for some reason.

Thedoor snicks closed.

“Putthem down, pet.Youdon’t need to clean up after us.”

Thatdoes it.Thatone word is like a raw flame and my veins are oil.I’mlit up from the inside out.

Islam the bowls onto the table, and they bounce, spilling and skidding across the table.Oneshatters at my feet butIpay it no mind, except to enjoy the reckless sound.

“No,Idon’t, becauseIam not apet,Beau,”Iyell.IyellandIwant to keep yelling. “I’mEden, andIdeserve better than this, damn you.”

Myrage is free and wild.It’sas if, whenIfilled my lungs to shout,Ifinally breathed in properly for the first time.Withabandon.Likemy worries and irritations have been suppressing my lungs, and every timeIbit my tongue,Iwas cutting off my oxygen.

But, at the end of the day, oxygen is fire fuel, and it’s licking through my whole body now.Isit possible to burn alive from frustration?God,Idodeserve better than this.I’ma survivor.I’vefought my own battles for years.Atsome point this has to stop—Ican’t be a pawn forever.Surely,I’ma knight.I’veearned that much.

---