Caged

Part 5- To Get The Ball Rolling

Seconds later, the president had joined them in the narrow hall that separated the first main room of their house and the doorway. He clapped his hands together and smiled widely, blissfully unaware of the discussion that was unraveling just a few moments earlier.

"I am positively ravenous!" he exclaimed, patting his son's shoulder. "There was so much paperwork that I had to skip my normal break, and on top of that I'm completely swamped with the investigation."

Arabelle nearly ran into the dining room, paralyzed with fear. He knows, she thought to herself over and over again, He just has to know.

Micheal came in to check on her. "That was more than a little suspicious behavior," he told her, standing a few feet away. She nodded her head and sighed. "You're right. But you'll have to forgive me. It sounded like you said you wanted to kill him!" she hissed. Swiftly, Micheal stepped forward and clapped his hand over her mouth.

"Don't you dare spill this," he whispered. "I could spin it and convince him it was entirely your idea. The only one to be punished would be you."

Tears flooded her eyes. She had evaded death once before, but she knew she couldn't escape it again if she was charged with a plot to assassinate the president.

"Are you ready for me to let you go?" Micheal asked her, as tears dripped from her eyes onto his hand. Instead of answering him, she took the opportunity to bite down on his hand. "Ow!" he grunted, staggering back two steps.

"How dare you threaten me!" she growled.

Suddenly, a voice caught them by surprise. "Everything all right in here?" the president asked, a glass of wine in his left hand. "Yes father, thank you," Micheal responded, stealthily hiding the teeth marks on his hand.

"Well then come!" the president exclaimed. "Let's have something to eat!"

They made polite conversation as they ate their dinner. After what felt like an eternity to Arabelle, the president finally asked the youngest maid to retrieve his coat.

"It was good to see you again," he noted as he began to walk towards the door. "Always a pleasure to have you over father," Micheal replied. "Let's do it again soon."

As soon as the car rumbled away from the house, Arabelle broke into tears. She had never considered herself to be an emotional person, but she felt like the dam holding back all of the sadness of leaving her family and being forced to be with a person she couldn't stand had finally broken, allowing her tears to spill forward.

Micheal sighed, seemingly both mentally and physically exhausted. "I'm sorry," he apologized, nearing her slowly, "I shouldn't have snapped at you. Please forgive me."

Although she accepted his embrace, she made it very clear to him that she despised him with everything she had. "I understand," he whispered as he pulled her tightly into his chest. 

"I hate myself too." 

She was shocked at his words. Tears streamed down her face as she contemplated them, wondered what he meant. 

Finally, Micheal let her go. "I have some contributors on the inside that support the idea of killing the president. Once it's done, you can leave me and go as far away as you want."

"And I will!" she burst. "I'll get as far away from you as I can! Even if I have to travel in the Wastes and be poisoned!" 

Arabelle raced up the stairs, locking herself into her bedroom. 

Micheal staggered towards the table. Once he had returned, rather than sit in a chair, he used one hand to support his weight, and the other covered his face. "I'm sorry Arabelle," he muttered, finding that a few tears were even emerging from his eyes.