Chapter 38 Before
Before
It doesn’t take me long to test the limits of my cage and determine that I’m nearly as trapped as I was before.
The hinges are on the outside of the door—-no hope of disassembling them.
The window doesn’t open. Emily and Liam have cleared out almost everything from the room—-the desk drawers are empty, only a few clothes in the dresser.
At least this prison is far more comfortable than the last one.
Melinda comes back after an hour. I sit on the bed with my damp hair soaking into the sweatshirt as I listen to Liam and Emily intercept her. I hear muted voices, and then she looks in on me once. She only nods and then retreats again, locking the door behind her.
Andrew is gone for much longer. It’s well after dark when he arrives. I hear the slam of the door first, and then footsteps, uneven in a way that’s all too familiar. He’s been drinking. I still myself.
Melinda talks to him. I can hear her plainly through the walls.
“Where the hell have you been?” she demands.
“Out,” he says.
“Where are you going?”
“Out,” he says again, and something clatters.
“You don’t need a flashlight. She’s not out there anymore,” Melinda says evenly, and then her voice drops. Andrew’s tone turns to confusion, and then anger—-his voice rising to a furious shout.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he demands, and his footsteps storm down the hall.
He reaches the door and there’s a bang as he hits it, clearly expecting the knob to turn.
I hide a smirk as he bellows for the key.
It takes the drama out of him bursting in a few seconds later.
I look up at him, demure, reminding myself I cannot appear defiant.
He doesn’t even look me in the face. I don’t know if he can.
“Get up,” he says. “You’re going back.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Melinda says, approaching behind him.
She leans in enough to peer at me, her expression neutral and calculating.
“It was bad enough leaving her in there for a few hours. We’re sure as hell not forcing her back down there and what?
You want to actually chain a girl to a wall, Andrew? ”
His jaw works. “We didn’t discuss this,” he says. “We need to—-”
“You don’t need to do anything,” I say. It’s risky, interrupting him, but he’s working himself up and it’s going to get dangerous fast. I shift my gaze to Melinda. “Is anyone coming here?”
She shakes her head. “Just us.”
“Then there’s no rush, right?” I ask reasonably. “Whatever you’re going to do, it doesn’t need to be done today, or tomorrow.” I’m so understanding. My voice so absent of blame. Give me a fucking Oscar for how accommodating I sound.
“She’s right,” Melinda says, and I feel like she’s picking up the other side of a tricky load, both of us finding the balance of it. She puts a hand on Andrew’s arm. “At least here we can take care of her. And keep an eye on her. We can talk, and think this through, and make a plan.”
“You trust her under our roof?” Andrew asks.
Melinda’s brow furrows slightly, like this train of thought is baffling. “Andrew, she’s ninety pounds soaking wet, what do you think she’s going to do? Not to mention—-”
She stops. Looks at me with a burning anger in her eyes that I do not for a moment think is directed at me.
“Not to mention what?” Andrew prods.
She’s doing the same thing I am. Navigating him. “We can’t let her leave half starved with welts on her ankle if we don’t want all of this to get out,” she says quietly. Melinda might be on my side, she might not be, but at least she wants her options open.
“All right,” Andrew says after a strained pause. “You’ll stay here. In this room. Don’t try to pull anything.”
“What if I need to use the bathroom?” I ask.
“We’ll get you a bucket,” he says. Melinda gives him an appalled look.
“Just knock on the door,” she says, glaring at him. “One of us will let you out.”
She stands there, waiting with arms crossed. Liam lingers in the hall behind them, eyes downcast. He’s so timid in the face of his siblings it’s a wonder he had the guts to get me out of there.
“Dinner soon. Do you need anything else?” Melinda asks. I shake my head. I’ve asked for enough.
“My room’s right on the other side of the wall,” Liam pipes up. “You know. If you need anything.”
Melinda cuts him a look—-one that says she knows exactly what’s happening in his tender heart. She steps away. Liam fades back as well, but Andrew remains. He’s staring straight at me, his gaze intent.
“What?” I say, more challenge than is wise.
“What’s your name?” he asks, insistent.
“You know my name,” I say. I’ll give him no more than that.
Of all his children, Mason liked Andrew the best. He tried the hardest to please his father, and Mason sounded the closest to proud when he was telling me all the things Andrew had accomplished.
Of all of them, I think, he did the best job convincing himself his father was a man worthy of love, admiration.
Imitation.
He sees what he wants to see. Believes what he wants to believe.
Andrew’s expression shutters, as if he has come to some kind of decision. He shuts the door. I listen for the click of the lock, and when it comes, I let out a sigh of disappointment. I hadn’t expected him to forget, but hope is a persistent creature.
Once I’m sure no one is lingering outside the door, I get up from the bed.
I spread my feet, digging my toes into the carpet and finding my balance, filling the whole of my foot with my weight.
Then I begin to walk. Back and forth. I used to do this, over and over, keeping up my strength as best I could.
It feels strange now, without the chain dragging at me and tripping me up.
It takes me a while of walking before I find the proper rhythm again.
When Melinda brings me dinner, I’m sitting exactly as she left me. She doesn’t say anything. Just waits for me to eat and then removes the plate and cutlery. I suppose a fork is too dangerous to leave with me unsupervised.
That night, with the TV mumbling in the front room, I turn to the wall. I can hear Liam settling in on the other side. I reach out, and with my knuckles I give two gentle taps on the wall. For a moment, there’s silence.
Then: two knocks, soft and secretive.
“Can you hear me?” Liam says, voice muffled and low.
“Kind of,” I say.
“Are you okay?”
I roll my eyes, make my voice sweet. “I’m glad you’re here. But we shouldn’t talk much. They might notice.”
“You’re probably right.”
“It’s enough to know you’re there,” I say. And with that, I become his secret.
And he becomes the key to my escape.