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Chapter 31: Acceptance

Dia

"Open your eyes and your mouth," someone's voice says, my stomach growls and starts hurting me. It is like I can physically feel my stomach eating itself.

It has been like two days which I have been here, or it could be longer, I lost track after my own biological father slap me.

I slowly open my eyes to see Jackson bending down with what seems to be Rice and Butter. They could have poisoned the food. I know I am hungry, but I will take my chances with starving to death than dying from poison being in my food.

I want a cool way to die not a poisoned way, like if I am going to get poisoned at least let it be a hot ass chick trying to seduce me or a cute quite boy trying to get information, so he drugs me a little too much with the poison.

I want a cool way to die or a fun way like I overdosed on alcohol or molly or even mixing drugs.

Something dope, like a dope way to die.

"Open up, buttercup," Jackson smirks. Making me look at him with disguise. What did I see in him?

"How do I know it is not poisoned?" I question.

"You don't, you shut up and eat it," he says, I shake my head.

"You are stubborn, if you do not eat you will die," he says, getting more annoyed at me.

"Am I not going to die either way?" I question.

"You are a smart girl, now eat up," Jackson tries to get me to eat again.

"Jackson stop, she won't eat anything we make, go get her MacDonalds. We need her alive," my father enters the room.

"Are you seriously going to spoil your daughter with MacDonalds?" questions Jackson.

"Until she gives us an answer, about joining us yes," my father gives him an eyebrow raise, "Go before you also end up in a chair similar to hers."

My father isn't spoiling me Jackson, he is trying to win me over. He is trying to use me to take the man who treats my mother better down. He is trying to use me. My biological father is a master manipulator.

I have to accept I am going to die here and my father does not want me. He just wants to use me. The same way when I was younger, he will throw me aside and say the seven most hurtful words a five-year-old can hear. The words ring in my ears in my darkest nightmares.

He might say pretty words now but his actions from when I was younger speaks louder.

"You know you are smart," my father says, I look up to see him standing by the door too my left. He moves towards me, "I will give you that."

After a while of staring at each other, "You could use your smartness to help me take over the city." He finally breaks the silence between us. Breaking the eye contact- losing the staring contest, he didn't know he was competing in.

Everything to him is all about power. It is like power is the only important thing to him. I regret ever crying over him.

"And Dia, don't worry, your torture has just begun," someone behind me says it in a wicked voice.

My father starts to walk out of the room, "Do not hurt her yet, if she joins us she needs to be in perfect health."

With that my father leaves.

"You and I both know you are not leaving this room alive," the person whispers in my ear, "When are you going to accept, he is just using you?"

Silence. They are already telling me something I already know.

The person walks out but they have a black hoodie which does not give me their body anatomy to recognize the person. I never saw this person walk into the room; I wonder if there is a door behind me.

'Accept he is just using you' rings through my ears again. My father always uses people, I need to be less shocked when he is using me. If he used my mom in his sick game- the women he claims he loves, why am I shocked he would use his own blood.