Tears brimmed in my eyes as fear clamped down around me but I met his gaze and managed to croak, “Fuck. You,” while smiling at his rage.
Murder flashed in his eyes. What the fuck was wrong with me that I had zero common sense? Why was I goading this asshole into hurting me? I knew the answer. I’d rather die than let some dick like him know that I was scared. “Go ahead,” I taunted. “Do your worst but something tells me if you put your hands on me, you’ll have to answer to Madame Moirai for marking up her merchandise. You want to chance pissing her off?” I must’ve said something that rang with truth. His grip loosened and he let go. I didn’t hide the victory in my tone as I sneered in contempt, “That’s what I thought” but I didn’t have long to gloat. He grabbed me by my hair and threw me into the room, slamming the door behind me.
I fell to the plush carpet, scuffing my palms with rug burn but I laughed maniacally as I rolled to my back. Everyone was so afraid of Madame Moirai they weren’t willing to do shit to help us. We were so screwed. I flopped to my side and hugged my knees to my chest, curling in a ball. My ass cheek burned as if the doctor had lodged a fiery hot ember beneath my skin. What was going to happen to us? The contract said five days but I didn’t believe we would walk away from this contract. Somehow she’d find a way to keep us and I didn’t know how we’d get free.
We were surrounded by gun-packing guards with hearts of stone. Every single person we’d come into contact with were lock-stock-and-barrel with Madame Moirai. Either she paid really well for their silence or she had something on them to force their cooperation.
Either way, it came out bad for us because they weren’t going to lift a fucking finger to help.
I unfurled myself and rose to my feet, rubbing at my neck where that brute had assaulted me. My skin was reddened but was otherwise fine.
I paced the small room, feeling the sticky fingers of claustrophobia clawing at my throat as panic threatened. Get a grip! You won’t survive if you freak out! Think smart. Nodding in response to my internal pep talk, I went to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face, taking a minute to calm my racing heart. Nothing was impossible. There were always ways around a problem. I eyed the door. It was locked from the outside but it wasn’t a deadbolt. It was a simple lock with weaknesses. Underestimating someone’s determination to succeed was the first mistake most people made. Madame Moirai purposefully went after girls who she perceived as vulnerable and vulnerable people tended to take fewer chances because they were scared of retribution.
Except me.
I had a stubborn streak a mile long jammed into my spine. Carla had tried to beat it out of me but she finally gave up because, in the end, I was stronger than she was — or ever would be.
So, these assholes weren’t going to break me, either.
With the right tools, I could jimmy the lock.
I returned to the bedroom with a critical eye. I checked under the bed, combed through the carpet, looked under every surface, every nook and cranny of the room, including the bathroom.
Just as I was about to give up, I found a bobby pin hiding in the seam where the carpet met the wall that must’ve been missed in a previous clean up. I smiled. If one was missed, there was likely more. I crawled along the seam of the carpet, my fingers digging and feeling for anything that felt like it didn’t belong. At the furthest edge of the room, I found another bobby pin, flung and forgotten, nearly lost in the minute crack.
All I needed were two.
Hiding the pins beneath my pillow, I formulated a plan after the house went dark.
When Olivia returned with my dinner, I was ready to play the part she wanted to see.
Olivia regarded me with wary speculation as she set my dinner tray down. “You seem more agreeable this evening. How are you feeling?”
“Sore from the shot but after I thought about it, I realized it was smart,” I said, sniffing at the air, “Wow, smells good. What’s for dinner?”
“Meatloaf.”
“I love meatloaf,” I lied with a smile. “Always reminds me of my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother…I thought the only family you had was your mother.”
I affected a sad expression, clarifying, “She died when I was six.”
Satisfied, Olivia nodded. “And from what I understand you and your mother have a strained relationship?”
Strained. That was a mild word to describe the outright animosity between myself and my mother. I knew why Olivia was asking and it sent a chill down my back. I decided to play loose with the truth. “Well, I mean, we’re not the closest but she is my mom. I’m sure if I disappeared she’d be really upset and call the cops,” I finished with a short smile.
Olivia’s equally short, cold smile told me my answer hadn’t pleased her. Good. Choke on it, you twisted bitch. Olivia clasped her hands in front of her, replying, “Of course, as any good mother should.” She paused a minute before adding with a chiding expression, “However, would you really say Carla West was a good mother?”
No, Carla was a shit mother but I wasn’t going to let Olivia have the satisfaction of knowing she was right. It was a silly test of wills but I was determined to win. I exhaled with a shrug, answering, “She did the best that she could. I know she loves me. That’s good enough for me.”
“Indeed.” Olivia turned to leave but I stopped her with a question.
“My five days will be up soon. When will I be leaving?”
“Details are being prepared,” Olivia said. “Patience is a virtue.”
“Patience has never been my thing,” I admitted. “I’m ready to sleep in my own bed, go back to school, you know, normal kid stuff. College applications to fill out with my best friend, that kinda thing. Now that I’ll have money in the bank, I don’t have to worry about applying for student loans.”
Olivia’s smile never faltered and she didn’t respond. She closed the door behind her, locking it tight.
I dropped the fake smile and stared hard enough to burn a hole through the door, wishing I had a laser in my hand to sear that awful smug, prissy expression clean off Olivia’s face.
I could only imagine what went through Olivia’s head as I prattled on about college when she knew Madame Moirai owned my future. Well, fuck that. Madame Moirai wasn’t going to get another piece of me and I’d do anything to make sure of that.
One way or another, I was getting out of this place.
14
Waiting for the house to quiet under the cover of night was the longest wait of my life. It was near one in the morning when I finally felt it was safe enough to try and pick the lock.
I fished the bobby pins from beneath my pillow and went to work. It took about fifteen minutes of frustrating failures to finally hear the tumblers flick into place, disengaging the lock.
I wiped at the sweat beading my forehead, my heartbeat racing like a wild thing. I drew a few deep breaths and then quietly and carefully opened the door a sliver to peer out. Darkened hallways were blessedly empty, which meant the guards — especially the one who already wanted to beat me to a pulp — were elsewhere.
I strained to pick up any sound that might give away someone walking around.
My ears picked up nothing but the ordinary sounds of deep night surrounding a sleeping house.
In their arrogance, they must’ve thought we were docile little pigeons in our cages, afraid to push against a locked door. I was more than happy to take advantage of their stupidity.