Sorry honey. Work got in the way. I know you must be disappointed. But I saw Santa left you some presents. Maybe next year?
And I didn't know what was wrong with me, but as soon as I read the note, I closed my eyes and started crying. I just crumpled against my wall, crying and crying, crying because it felt good to cry, because I didn't know what else to do but let the tears pour out of me. I missed my parents. I missed having them close. I missed spending time with them. And for Christmas, I'd only asked for one thing. Not a toy or a game system or whatever. No. All I'd ask for was for my parents to spend a morning with me, and they couldn't even do that.
They couldn't even stay with me for that long.
They couldn't even be bothered to make sure I was okay.
But I loved my parents, I told myself. I loved them because the occasions they were here, they made everything better. I always told myself they were the one bright spot in my life. I always told myself I needed them.
I can't help but wonder if I always knew I was lying.
I think I did, honestly. And I think I always knew that I hated them with every goddamn part of me, and was only pretending to like them so I wouldn't feel so alone.
I think I always knew that sometimes, when things felt especially dark inside of me and I remembered how manipulative and neglectful they truly were, I was… well, I was glad they're dead.
When I wake up, both of my arms are chained to each bedpost. I shoot up in bed, everything from the night before flooding back to me, but the chains restrain me. I struggle and struggle, trying to break free, but it is no use. I'm trapped here. Locked up. Just as Sebastian told me I would be.
I try to scream, jerking my head desperately around, trying to find someone to hear me and let me free. But there is no one. We're isolated here, up on this long hill. There is no one around to save me.
As if on cue, Sebastian walks into the room, watching me with a kind of defeat. He sips his coffee, looking at me sadly, and the sight of him just makes me want to scream some more. The chains don't hurt at least, and they're loose enough to let me sit up, but I can't move beyond that. I glance down in front of me and notice a plate full of eggs Sebastian must have made me. I knock them over with my foot, then glare up at him. My appetite is totally gone.
"Angel," he says quietly. "Are you okay?"
I don't answer him. Just stare into his eyes, into the eyes of the man I thought I could trust, and I just keep shaking my head. The tears sting at my eyes again, hurting like a million papercuts, rising up just like that. I spit at him. "Get away from me," I hiss. "Just get the fuck away from me."
"I don't want this," Sebastian whispers. His voice is so genuine, so hurt and heartfelt, that I find myself believing him despite myself. And it hurts. It hurts to know I still love him, even after all of this. "You know I don't want this. But you aren't giving me a choice. I'm saving you, don't forget that. I'm saving you by letting Marco get to you."
My voice keeps trembling. "So this is how it's going to be?" I whisper, rage slipping into my voice. I spit on his shoe. "You're going to lock me up like… like some kind of goddamn animal?"
He sits down at the edge of the bed. "No, "he says softly. "Of course not. I told you, I'm done. I was going to keep you here, but then I had a… change of heart." He says the words as if it wasn't entirely voluntary, which makes no sense because there is no one else here. "If you want to leave, then leave," he continues. "I'll let you go. I'll always love you, angel. You know that, right? But if you choose to leave, then I'll let you, but I can't protect you if you do. And if you get hurt, I won't be able to live with myself, but I decided it's better me being miserable than you. I told you. I'm a bad man. But I'm not one without morals."
My stomach churns. What is going on? Why is he letting me leave all of a sudden? And can I even trust him? I tell myself I can't. There's still a good chance he killed my parents. "So if I want to leave," I say slowly, "you'll unchain me? Just like that?"
"Yes," Sebastian says, but there is a sad, almost bitter edge to his voice. Yes. Something is definitely going on. "You'll be free to go, but with the risks... in case Marco finds you. It's up to you, angel. You know much I love you. But it's wrong of me to hold you here against your will any longer. It's been more than three weeks. I've had plenty of chances to show you how I feel for you. I'm trying to save you, but I can't do that if you don't want to be saved. So I'm giving you the choice." His eyes lock with mine, all fiery and tortured and broken. "Stay with me, or go it alone."
I open my mouth to say something, to tell him to let me free, but then I stop myself. Do I really want to leave Sebastian? After all he's done for me? I love him, I really do, and leaving him behind will hurt. But then I think about what he could have done to my parents. And I know, I know with all of my heart, that if he killed them, then I will have my revenge.
My voice trembles. I try to figure out what to do, who to trust--the hitman or his boss? The one who locked me up or the one who is after me? But then, all of a sudden, it hits me. Everything makes sense again. So I look up from my hands, locking eyes with Sebastian, and I say, "I need you to do something for me, before I choose," hard and determined.
Sebastian watches me carefully. "Yes?"
I look right into his eyes and say, "Take me upstairs."
"No," he says immediately. "This is a bad idea. There are some things you just don't want to see."
My heart starts pounding. I was right. So something is up there, and something important, by the look of it. "You told me you didn't want to lose me, right?"
"Yes."
"So if you take me up there, then maybe you won't lose me," I say, sitting up.
Sebastian shakes his head. "Angel, please--"
"Show me," I repeat, not backing down. I know I need to see upstairs. I'm not sure why, but I know it'll have answers, answers I've been so desperately seeking. "Take me there."
Sebastian keeps his eyes locked on mine, as if challenging me to see if I'll hold my own, and I do. I don't look away. I keep my gaze as strong as possible, my eyes burning into his.
Finally, he relents. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a key, then slowly unlocks the cuffs. I spring out immediately, relieved to be free. Sebastian leads me across the marble floor toward the winding steps that lead to another floor above. I take a tentative step after step, checking to make sure this isn't a trap, to make sure I'm safe with him.
My heart begins pounding, and I try to think what I'd do if seeing whatever I'll see is proof that he killed my parents. Would I kill him? Or would I just run away? Would I have the guts to fight back? I don't even know.
Every part of me hopes I'm wrong about Sebastian killing my parents, hopes this is all a big mistake and Marco is just trying to set me up. And those same parts of me hope Sebastian and I can find a way to go back to normal. But still, I can't help but wonder. If Marco is really after me and Sebastian, it doesn't make sense that he wouldn't kill us on the spot, considering he knew right where we were in that supermarket.
Something else is going on. Something else has to be.
I run my hand along the cool rail as we make our way up the stairs. The top floor is a huge thing, filled with decorative paintings and sculpture against the walls, with several giant chandeliers hanging overhead. A large patterned carpet stretches the expanse of the floor, soft beneath my feet.