“You know darling, I usually don’t give two shits about others but girl,” Heather placed a tray of food right next to me on the cot, “Whatever you said to Tim, you need to apologize for.”
“I don – wait what? I have to apologize?” I stared at her incredulously. “Why do I have to apologize?”
“’Cause I’m here, not him,” Heather sat down on the edge of my bed.
“And that’s a bad thing because…?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
Heather’s face flushed with anger, “Listen, it isn’t Tim that you need to be angry at or cautious of. It is your own father.”
“My father?” I laughed out loud, “That is incredibly rich.”
“Rich? No. The truth? Yes. You are sick, dying. We didn’t do that. All we wanted was to use you so that we could get what we want. If you die, we have no leverage,” Heather snapped.
“And are you suggesting that my dad is the one who did this to me?” I pulled my knees up to my chest. “You are delusional! I could have been born with these holes in my heart. I do know that that can actually happen.”
“Yes, it is called an atrial septal defect if it’s a hole in the two upper chambers and if it is in the bottom two chambers, it’s called a ventricular septal defect. Children can live to adulthood with treatment. Not on their own,” Heather waved her hand at me, “And that is why it is so goddamn creepy that you are here right now. Plus, when you got sick yesterday, Jon said that your organs were failing. We honestly thought you wouldn’t live through the night. Timotheus monitored you all night. You were murmuring and having seizures. And then Tim called us in, and there you were. Breathing evenly and deeply, as though nothing was wrong.
“When Jon had checked you heartbeat earlier, it was erratic and rhythmic. But when he checked it again, it was steady and regular,” Heather leaned back, “I don’t know what is wrong with you but you aren’t normal.”
“Thanks,” I laughed, “That was a very wonderful story, but now please leave.”
“What?” Heather looked startled.
“I said leave, please,” I glared at her, “I don’t want anything to do with you.”
Heather stood, “Fine. But think about what I said.”
“No,” I snapped. My father wasn’t the friendliest man in the world but he wouldn’t try to kill me. He was my dad.
The wood floor was cold against the bottom of my bare feet. I gripped the bannister of the stairs, peering through to see where my dad was. My stomach rumbled loudly, and I bounded down the stairs, skipping two steps at a time. I turned to walk into the kitchen when I saw out of the corner of my eye. Something didn’t seem right.
I walked over and saw that there was a woman lying on the ground. She had on a white dress with long, auburn hair spread around her. I slowly went over to her and knelt. The woman was lying on her stomach and I didn’t know if maybe she had been a guest of Dad’s and perhaps she slipped. Maybe hit her head, or was drunk and passed out. Something like that. I grabbed the woman’s shoulder and heaved, turning her over.
Instantly, I cried out, leaping back. The woman’s entire front was covered in blood from a slit throat. But that wasn’t what had me shaking in terror – even though it was one of the two major factors. It was the fact that she looked like an older, healthier me. A strong hand grabbed my upper arm without warning and heaved me to my feet. I was spun roughly around and found myself face to face with Dad. He shook me roughly, so hard that my head snapped back and forth.
“You are a monster! A monster just like her!” he spit in my face.
Tears streamed down my face as I cried for him to stop. But Dad just kept yelling at me that I was a monster. Pain blossomed across the side of my face when he backhanded me. The force of the blow sent me flying backwards with a hard thump.
The agony was so intense that all the air in my lungs washed away. I couldn’t see for what felt like an hour but had to be only minutes. When I could draw a breath, I found my father sitting astride me with a kitchen knife in his hand. My stomach rolled with the fact that the blade was already covered in blood. Blood that dripped onto my neck and chest. I shivered violently.
“A demon doesn’t deserve to live,” Dad hissed in my face before the knife came down.
I sat straight up, gasping. What in the hell? What kind of freaking nightmare was that? I ran my fingers through my hair, struggling to breath. It must have been Heather’s little story that had caused me to think like this. I untangled myself from the sheets and noticed that sometime in the middle of my nightmare, the tray on the edge of the cot had been knocked to the ground, essentially scattering the food.
I got up and grabbed the scattered food, putting it back on the tray, which went back on the edge of the cot. I wiped my hands on the side of my pants and looked around. The room I was in was tiny. Not even as large as a motel room.
Not that I knew that.
It was floor to ceiling of grey, no distinction between the floor and the wall. There was a toilet in the corner with a showerhead poking from the wall. The cot where I had been sleeping and that was it. Nothing else. I was slightly disturbed but I knew that I should have been more freaked out. I wasn’t okay with this, I wasn’t.
There was something to be said though about the fact that nobody treated me like a china doll. That was definitely something that I wasn’t used to. I rubbed my arms and walked back to the cot, staring at it reproachfully. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to sleep. I actually wasn’t tired. I didn’t know if that was because I had slept for so long recently or what, but I wanted to move around. Do something.
The door unlocked before opening to reveal Timotheus carrying another tray of food and what looked like extra clothes slung over his arm. He paused when he closed the door, staring at me. Obviously he wasn’t expecting me to be awake, or up for that matter. He tried to his surprise by keeping his face blank and walking towards me. Timotheus placed the tray on the bed next to the old one, and the change of clothes on the other side of the tray. I glanced sideways at the food, feeling hollowness in my stomach. I sat down and grabbed the bagel and cream cheese, noticing the plastic butter knife. Timotheus raised his eyebrows at my action, but didn’t say anything.
“How many days has it been?” I asked, taking a bite of the bagel. Damn, who knew bagels could be s freaking good? Food had never tasted one hundred percent great to me. I was definitely not someone who would be called “a foodie”.
“It’s been five days,” Timotheus replied, watching me.
“Five days?” I tucked my hair behind my ear, “Has my dad replied to your hostage video?”
Timotheus rubbed the palms of his hand together, “No.”
“Oh,” I closed my eyes, swallowing thickly.
“He still has nine days to reply, he more than likely is trying to figure out how to get the funds together without looking suspicious,” Timotheus sat down next to me “Don’t worry.”
I looked around at him and flinched, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Timotheus furrowed his brows.
“Like, so intensely,” I leaned away from him slightly.
“Something is different about you,” Timotheus leaned forward, his eyes examined my face, “Something drastic.”
“Go away,” I snapped, scooting until my back hit the wall.
“Fine,” Timotheus stood, “I’m sorry about your father, I thought he would respond sooner than this.”
“You don’t know my father very well,” I whispered, keeping my eyes downcast.
“No I don’t,” Timotheus gave me a calculating look, “Do you?”
I ignored him.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please comment, vote, and share. I’m pretty busy with school and stuff so if you think of a song when reading this, please let me know! I’ll dedicate the next chapter to you :)