Chapter 5
Chapter 5
IRIS
T o say I’m overwhelmed is a serious understatement. My mind has been spinning with all the different images and information I’ve been sent since being trapped in this godforsaken room. I don’t have any concept of time or could I even take a guess at how long I’ve been locked up in this dungeon. The constant videos and pictures are deflating me instead of giving me hope that I’d be able to figure out the pieces to this giant fucked up puzzle.
I’d woken up not long ago to the phone chiming with more messages, and despite me not wanting to care about whatever they want me to know about my parents, I find myself eager for every morsel of information I can come by. Especially where Beau is concerned.
What do they want from me? Why do they insist on showing me all of this instead of just telling me what it is they think I should know? It’s the thrill of the mindfuck for them and I’m not sure I can take another second of it.
They’ve shown me numerous photos and videos of my mother. Each of them is taking a new piece of my heart straight to her grave. They’ve shown me videos of Beau pretty much being sexually assaulted by some whores. Watching him bound and helpless makes me absolutely livid, which sends my emotions all over the place. Then I get another video of something else that I’m supposed to be calm and focused while watching, and it’s not working.
My emotions are flying all over the place like I’m on a damn roller coaster and all I want to do is get off this fucking ride. In fact, if I ever get out of here, I will never… ever ride another ride again. The thought of it just makes me want to hurl in the corner.
There’s a fresh bottle of water, sandwich, and a pack of aspirin waiting for me by the door. Someone must’ve snuck it in here once they realized I was asleep. It only further confirms whoever’s behind this travesty is indeed always watching. I suppose they knew I’d damn well need the aspirin as I couldn’t help but silently cry myself to sleep with the devastating sense of loss smothering me. I’m trying so fucking hard to stay strong, but it’s difficult with the death of King weighing heavily on my heart along with the torture they’re obviously putting Beau through.
Swallowing down the pills, I flip the phone open as I set the sandwich beside me. I don’t know if it’s smart for me to eat because I’ll need the strength to survive or if it’s been tampered with and they’ll drug me again. The image loads and I instantly recognize the man from before who was shaking my father’s hand. It hits me then who he really is. I didn’t recognize him in the first photo, but at this angle I can tell it’s one of the men who were always around me and my mother. I thought it was silly how he went places with my mother, but after her death, I learned she had clearly needed the protection. There’s an audio clip as well, but if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not sure I want to hear what it has to say.
With a huff, I tear the sandwich in pieces, attempting to gauge if it’s been messed with and press play. My body’s already strung tight, as my heart rate kicks up, thumping wildly in my chest.
“I’ll kill you, do you hear me?” There’s a loud smack following my father’s threats, like he hit someone. What in the hell? My dad is the most non-violent person I’ve ever met. Did he get hit? Or throw something? I drop the sandwich, bringing the phone closer to try and hear anything else in the background. My other hand finds my hair, shoving it out of my face to rub at my temple.
“I swear I’m not with him, he’s keeping me safe. Doing the job you hired him for.” I draw in a stunned breath. It’s my mother’s voice, laced with tears. Surely my father didn’t strike her? There’s no way he’d ever hurt her. He was always harping about our safety. He’d say he’s a politician, holding an important position in our world, which unfortunately comes with its set of enemies.
“Mark my words, Melody. If I catch you with him again, I will bury you.” My teeth sink into my lower lip, biting down until a touch of metallic flavor hits my tastebuds. The recording goes on to play the slapping sound over and over for sixty seconds until I’m so mixed up in my emotions, I feel like I’m barely hanging onto the edge of a cliff. There’s a rocky ledge and everything’s about to fall, me included, getting sucked into darkness.
I have no way of knowing the context of any of the information I’ve been given, and it’s royally screwing with my head. My hand tightens in my hair, the sharp shock of pain shaking me out of my imminent spiraling. Releasing my lip, my tongue swipes out, licking away the sting as I get to my feet.
I have to do something; I can’t remain trapped in here while these people fuck with me time and time again. I begin to pace, yelling out to whoever’s listening. “Let me out of here! You wanted my attention, well now you’ve gotten it. Keeping me locked in here doesn’t mean I can confront my father, which I’m guessing is what you want. Right?”
The phone chimes, effectively pausing my footsteps.
Private
Confront him? Oh, no, Iris. We want you to see him for what he truly is. There’s so much more going on you’d never know about if it weren’t for us. Your father isn’t just a seedy governor, he’s the worst kind of man. It’s time you open your eyes to the snake whispering in your ear, making you believe he’s innocent in everything.
“I believe you. So, let me go confront him.”
Private
Remember Georgia?
My throat tightens at the second text. Of course, I remember Georgia.
Private
Cat got your tongue?
A new image comes through and when it loads it’s a picture of me, in a club, dancing on a bar top. I was in Georgia, and judging by the grainy image, I was on the road to being plastered.
“What does this have to do with anything?” I ask aloud, while silently wondering who in the fuck was there taking pictures of me. Chills crawl over my flesh, knowing I was being watched when I thought I was free. I knew this though; Beau has told me the society showed him a video of me that night.
Looking closer, I zoom in on a man in the background. A guy I recognize as one of my father’s right-hand men.
How did I miss him that night?
A video of me dancing comes through next, reminding me how I missed the obvious that night. I was swaying and tipsy. I watch Jordan slip something in my drink and brace myself for the shift of the video Beau told me he saw next.
My stomach churns as Jordan moves behind the bar so smoothly. His vile snake ways of taking advantage of people is easily hidden by his charisma. He’s a likeable person… or he was.
Knowing Beau took care of Jordan terrified me when I first heard him say it but watching this video of that night brings an entirely new respect for Beau. I watch in shock as Jordan moves me around the stockroom like a ragdoll. It was very obvious I was in no shape to be taken to the backroom with that guy. My father’s men were there… and should’ve stopped it.
Why didn’t they stop Jordan?
Goosebumps erupt all over my skin as the depth of just how horrible my father is comes to light. I shake my head in disbelief and confusion, trying to make sense of the obvious in front of my face. But there is no sense to be made. I can’t comprehend evil like that.
Who allows their daughter to be attacked? Did he set it up? Did he have it recorded? The questions come so fast, I can’t even try to answer one before five others flash through my mind.
Did my father do this to me? Or did his guys just allow it to happen? And why would they?
My mind fills with madness and just when I thought I couldn’t possibly handle another sliver of information, the screen lights up again.
It’s Beau again. He’s yelling out in anger and frustration. My heart shifts to worrying about him instead of stressing over what my father has done. Tears swell in my eyes before they begin to fall once again.
“What do you want from me? Please… I’ll do anything. Just let him go.”
Private
You have enough information to realize the truth. I’m going to ask you a few questions. If you are correct, you will receive another question. If you get them all right, you’ll gain access to a key. That key is your future.
“Okay. Yes, ask anything.”
Private
Did your father send you away to private school?
“Yes.” Tears continue and I don’t even try to stop them. The Society is going to make this painful.
Private
Did he have you followed after you left Paris?
“Yes.” Their video is proof of that.
Private
Who paid to have your mother killed?
“My father,” I answer based on the information they’ve been showing me. It’s obvious they want me to think this and honestly, after seeing everything it’s clear that my father is an evil bastard. One thought I can’t seem to shake is how was I oblivious to their issues? I was young and away at school for a lot of it, but how is it possible they hid things from me so easily? The thought of my father killing my mother would’ve had me rolling my eyes if it’d ever been brought up in the past… which it wasn’t. But now, well, I’m not so sure I’d believe my father is innocent at all where she’s concerned. There’s no telling how far his treachery truly reaches and it's mind shattering, especially on top of everything else I’ve endured since this godforsaken society came into my life.
Private
Why do you think he would have your mother killed?
This question isn’t as easy… I have no idea. I rack my brain trying to remember all of the information they’ve shown me and nothing is solid enough for me to answer. I know I have to answer something… but if I get it wrong, I’ll lose my chance at getting this key they’ve promised.
I went from not wanting a damn thing to do with this society to stressing over playing one of their games in fear of my own life and possibly even Beau’s. I start to think about my father and there was only one thing he loved… and that was money.
“Money.” This was an educated guess, but it doesn’t ease my anxiety when the questions stop coming. “Was I correct?” I watch the phone, hoping like hell for another question to light up on the screen. They take their sweet time before they send another.
Private
Who do you love more, Beau Beaumont or Kingston Banks?
My heart sinks with the question. They’re expecting me to answer one or the other and I can’t. They both have my heart and that doesn’t change, even though Kingston is gone. Our love is the forever kind, and the society is the worst type of people out there, to attempt to steal our connection away from us at every turn of the road.
“I love them both. They’re my everything and I could never live without either of them.” I end my answer, my words spoken confidently and begin to pace. I’m exhausted and I feel like I’ve been dragged through the mud and ran over by a semi-truck. I’ve seen so much and felt even more over the past few days in this cell. It seems like their efforts are slowing… maybe they realize I see what they’ve laid out in front of me and there’s nothing I can do about it locked up in here. Perhaps they’ll let me out soon because I can’t imagine they’d waste this much time feeding information to someone they plan to kill.
I glance at the phone for another question and when one doesn’t come, I exhale in defeat. They must not have liked my answer.
I responded truthfully to everything they asked. There’s nothing more I can do, except pray and keep fighting for another day.