CHAPTER 02 #2
Alaric pulls a chair up opposite me, knee to knee. He places the tray on the small table between us. He lifts the silver cloche. Scrambled eggs, creamy and yellow. Smoked salmon. Toast with artisanal jam. Fruit. It looks delicious. My stomach growls loudly.
Alaric smirks. "Hunger is the most honest emotion, isn't it? It doesn't lie." He picks up a fork, spears a piece of melon, and holds it out to me. "Open."
I clamp my mouth shut. I turn my head to the side, looking out the window. "I'm not hungry."
"Lie," he replies calmly. "Your stomach is arguing with you." He brings the fork closer to my lips. "Eat, Elodie."
"I am not your pet," I say through gritted teeth. "I can feed myself."
"You can," he agrees. "But you tried to escape. Privileges are earned. Using cutlery is a privilege. Right now, I don't trust you with a fork. So, I feed you."
"Then I starve."
Alaric lowers the fork. His expression doesn't change, but the air in the room drops ten degrees. "Starvation strikes," he muses. "Classic. Cliché, really. Do you know what happens when a patient refuses to eat in my facility?"
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't plead. I don't beg. I insert a nasogastric tube. It goes up your nose and down into your stomach. It is uncomfortable. It causes gagging. And it stays in for weeks. Is that what you want? Do you want a tube taped to your pretty face?"
I look at him. He is perfectly serious. "You're a monster," I whisper.
"We’ve established that," he says dryly. He holds the fork up again. "Melon. Open."
I look at the fruit. I look at the window. I look at the heavy door. There is no way out. Not yet. I need strength. If I am going to run again, if I am going to kill him, I need calories. Survive, a voice in my head whispers. Eat the food. Play the game.
Slowly, hating every second, I part my lips.
Alaric slides the fork into my mouth. The melon is sweet, cold, and juicy.
He watches me chew. His gaze is focused on my mouth, dark and intense.
It feels sexual, though he hasn't touched me inappropriately. It’s the dominance.
The act of forcing something into my body and making me accept it.
"Good girl," he murmurs again.
He feeds me the eggs. The salmon. The toast. I eat it all. I am ravenous. He wipes my mouth with a linen napkin between bites. "See?" he says softly. "That wasn't so hard. Submission is just a matter of relaxing into the inevitable."
"I haven't submitted," I say, swallowing a piece of toast. "I'm just refueling."
"Semantics."
He pours me coffee. He lets me hold the cup myself, his eyes tracking my hands to ensure I don't throw the hot liquid in his face. "Now," he says, leaning back. "We need to discuss your treatment plan."
"I don't need treatment. I need a lawyer."
Alaric reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone. Not his phone. My phone.
My heart leaps. "Give that to me!"
"You have three missed calls," he says, ignoring my outstretched hand. He taps the screen. "All from your mother. And one voicemail."
"Let me talk to her. She’ll fix this. If she knows about the lobotomy..."
"She knows," Alaric says gently. Too gently. "She co-signed the order, Elodie."
The world stops. "No."
"Listen." He taps the speaker button and holds the phone out.
My mother's voice fills the room. It sounds tinny, distant.
"Dr. Graves? It's Martha. We... we just wanted to confirm that the transfer was successful. Charles is very worried about the press. If she—if Elodie is difficult, please just... do what needs to be done. We’ve already told the conservatory she’s had a breakdown and won't be returning.
Just... make her comfortable, Doctor. And please, don't let her call us. It’s too painful for Charles. "
Click.
The silence that follows is heavier than the grave. Don't let her call us. Do what needs to be done.
I feel like I’ve been hollowed out. My chest is empty. My heart is gone. They threw me away. My mother. My father. They didn't just abandon me; they erased me. To save their reputation. To save their social standing.
I stare at the phone in Alaric's hand. It looks like an alien object. A relic from a life that no longer exists.
Alaric slides the phone back into his pocket. "You are a ghost, Elodie," he says softly. "Out there, you don't exist anymore. Your apartment is being cleared out as we speak. Your piano is being sold."
A tear slides down my cheek. I don't wipe it away. I can't move. "Why are you telling me this?" I whisper. "Why not just kill me?"
"Because they are the blind ones," Alaric says. He stands up and pulls me out of the chair. He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I don't fight him. I don't have the strength. I just collapse against him, sobbing into the expensive cashmere of his sweater.
"They threw away a diamond because it had a sharp edge," he murmurs into my hair, his hand stroking my back in long, soothing circles. "But I like sharp edges."
He holds me while I cry. He holds me while my world burns down to ash. And in the wreckage of my life, his heartbeat is the only steady thing left.
"You are mine now," he whispers, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "And I protect what is mine. Even from themselves."
He pulls back slightly, tilting my chin up so I have to look at him. "Today, we rest. Tomorrow... we begin the work."
"What work?" I sniff, my voice trembling.
Alaric smiles. And this time, it reaches his eyes. "The deconstruction, my dear. We are going to take Elodie Fray apart, piece by piece." He brushes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "And then I am going to build someone new. Someone who survives."