29. Penelope
Penelope
“Lie.”
My body jolted through the shock that locked my limbs. “I’m n-not lying.”
“Bullshit. Go over the story again.”
Burning registered from the multiple places I’d already been electrocuted. Muscles screamed, and the cut on my lip was still bleeding the smallest amount. “I already have, so many times. Please. I don’t know anything. I want to leave. I want to go h-home.”
I sobbed, holding to the innocent, fragile woman I’d been months ago.
She was still in there, offering me a reprieve from my sins—my heartbreak.
But the other woman in me wasn’t taking well to these interrogations.
She was stewing under the pressure and abuse, and the anger festered and grew with every day that passed.
“This is your home until you can tell the truth. We’re starting over and doing this again.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“You’re lying. You’re harboring a very dangerous man. That’s what you’re doing.”
My head shook. And shook. And shook.
“I’m not. I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. He took me. I want to go home.”
The days were brutal. The nights were worse.
The two women made sleeping impossible. They tortured me in their own ways.
They were doing everything they could to get me to spill my secrets on Vaughn, even if they didn’t say his name.
They had no idea that I did not own my voice.
A queen would never betray her king or her people.
A queen wouldn’t fold under any amount of pressure.
I may not have been an actual queen, but my loyalty to Vaughn was equivalent, and I would not break.
A frustrated sound left me, but I kept it light. More like a child.
“Where are your parents?”
“Dead.”
“Truth.” The blonde kept her voice light as the deeply tanned woman with round, dark eyes glared not feet away.
“Who killed them?”
“The masked man.”
“Truth.”
“What did the mask man do with the bodies?”
“I don’t know. I told you,” I sobbed. “I woke up in an underground room—a cement room. Like a cellar, but bigger. It was in a house. I… I don’t know the road it was on.
I didn’t look when I escaped. I just ran.
I couldn’t think. I just kept running until I saw a house I recognized. That’s when I realized where I was.”
“…Truth.”
“Who is the masked man?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lie.”
The brunette surged to her feet, reaching over the table and slapping me. “This man killed your parents. Give us a name!”
“I don’t know who he is! He seemed familiar.
I’ve tried to figure it out. I… I t-think maybe he was the one calling me.
” More I cried, trying to catch my breath.
“When we talked on the phone, he never showed himself. But I knew he had to be near. He had me sit on my windowsill so he could watch me.”
The blonde’s face drew in, and she glanced at the brunette. I hadn’t told them about the phone calls.
“Truth.”
The dark-haired woman’s shoulders shifted, and she paused.
“How long did you talk to this man on the phone before you were taken?”
My head lowered and I looked up, feeling what my old self would have felt. Afraid.
“Months. I’m so ashamed about it.” A sob tore from me. “I was so lonely, and he was nice to me. He’d let me tell him about my day. We’d sometimes talk for hours. He actually cared how I was.”
“Truth.”
The brunette raked her fingers through her hair.
“You know more and you’re not saying it. Who is the man?”
My mind raced as I buried my face in my hands, biding my time as thoughts raced and weaved.
“I don’t know. Please. He said… I was his. He’d come and he’d go. Sometimes he wouldn’t come back for days. Days!” Harder I broke down, showing them the scars on my arms and hands from the cuffs. “I want to go h-home. Please. I can’t do this anymore.”
Silence drew out.
“Did the man ever remove the mask?”
“No!” The woman lifted the weapon to electrocute me again.
“Wait… Wait!” I kept a shocked look on my face and let my eyes blindly search the table, zeroing in on a memory.
“Y-Yes. He did. The lights were off. It was pitch black. I felt,” I reached out to the space between us, seeing Vaughn—feeling him.
“I touched his face. I saw it in my mind.”
“Truth.”
The women eyed each other, and the brunette’s tone softened as her hand lowered.
“Good. That’s good. Do you think you could remember what he looks like?”
“I… I mean… maybe.” My hands hovered over the cheek, jaw area as I went back to my memory.
My heart ached as I kept Vaughn before me.
“He had hair, here, on his jaw. Rough. And…a nose…I think maybe it was straight. I-I” My lips quivered from the pain of being away from him—from the pain I was suffering at protecting him.
I was so conflicted on what I was supposed to do.
“I don’t want to think about him right now! ”
The blonde’s lips pursed, and her shoulder length hair swayed as she gave a half nod, half shake. As if my description was half-truth-half lie.
“Did the man ever say why he killed your parents?”
I wiped the tears. “They hurt me.”
“Truth.”
“And did he ever hurt you?”
The innocent girl was eaten by the bitter, angry bitch that was being reborn.
“He hurt me all the time. I fought him almost every day.”
In my entire being, I believed it. Vaughn did hurt me with his constant withdrawal. And we did fight, almost every day for training.
“Truth.”
“Did he rape you?”
My lips separated, and I looked down.
“I want to leave right now.”
Again, they stole glances at each other.
“You’re not going anywhere. Answer. Were you raped?”
I could have smiled through the emptiness that manifested inside me. Not at the question, but how she’d reworded it at my delay. I was changing. Vaughn was right. I didn’t recognize myself either.
“I was raped.”
“Truth.”
The blonde was so quiet, I’d barely heard her. She turned to the brunette, keeping her tone hushed as they began to argue.
“Enough of this. It can’t be him. She doesn’t even bear the brand.
We have to call Katia right now. This woman doesn’t have any information.
Penelope isn’t a threat. Did you not hear her?
She’s a victim. The damn polygraph even tells us that.
He didn’t take her, but someone did. Let the police find who it was. It’s not our guy.”
“We can’t be sure of that. She saw someone. She knows who it is.”
“In her mind. She’s been with him for four months. Of course she feels she knows him. It’s over, Stacy. Look at her. Look what we’ve done. She’s innocent. We’re calling it.”
An aggravated sound left the brunette, and she stood, grabbing a file and spinning to leave the room. The blonde stood, unhooking me from the machine. I continued to let the tears fall, breaking down in an occasional sob here and there. It was easy when all I felt was distant. Numb. Regretful.
What had I done?
I thought I knew when I left. Nothing had turned out like how I assumed.
I figured I could just go home. If I could see that my parents weren’t there…
If I could lay in my bed, maybe I’d wake up.
Maybe I could—could—I had no idea. Maybe I could try to start over?
Maybe I could find some sort of independence while trying to get Vaughn to come around?
To talk to me so I could understand more of who he was?
But then the women had showed up on my porch before I could even get inside. They’d taken me. Days later, I was still with them. But not in the building they’d originally taken me to. That only led to tunnels, and into a new location. Another office-type of place.
I closed my lids, leaning forward to rest my head on the table.
Darkness surrounded me, and I could see Vaughn so clearly.
He was part of me whether I liked it or not, and even here, in my dreams, I couldn’t escape him.
I didn’t want to. I just wanted to go back.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I was weak for who he needed.
Too weak to return, even if I could. A queen couldn’t be frightened of life.
She had to be fierce. I wasn’t. Not yet.
“Penelope. Ms. Taylor?”
Groggily, I lifted my head, trying to blink in a new dark-haired woman before me. This one had layered waves a few inches past her shoulders, and her green eyes practically glowed against her tanned skin.
“Hello, Ms. Taylor. I’m Agent Marchase. I have a few questions for you.”
My shoulders curled in as a sob tore from me.
The tired, innocent girl in me had me laying my head back down against the desk.
It was cool against my heated cheek, and I could feel myself slipping away in a fog as I stared mindlessly at the wall.
Tears raced over the bridge of my nose. Within seconds, the woman lowered, crouching so that she was eyelevel with me.
“You were taken four months ago. Your parents have not been recovered. You show signs of torture, and you claim to have been raped, which we can conclude from the tests that’s true. You have been through hell. I’m here to help you. I just need you to help me.”
I didn’t lift my head as I continued to take in her sympathetic face and soft tone.
“I’ve answered everything as honestly as I can.”
“Just a few more questions, and I promise to take you to your new home.”
“New home?” My head lifted as I kept my eyes narrowed at her. “I don’t want a new home. I want to go back to my old home. I want to—I want— I can’t—” A loud sob tore from me. “He’ll come back.”
“Yes. We believe he might.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening.”
She reached out, grabbing my hand.
“Neither do we, which is why we’re being so hard on you. You have to understand, we’re a very secret organization. The man we believe might have taken you is not a good man. He’s hurt people. Killed them. If we’re not thorough, more people could die. We don’t want that.”
“But I don’t know who he is.”
“I know. Tell me your story from the beginning. One more time.”