I need to convey to my father just how serious I am about what I'm about to say.
“I have proof,” I state, which has his gaze swinging from the window to me. “A video of us together, for the first time. It was his first time ever.” I pause, making sure I have every last shred of his attention on me. “And I will blast it all over the internet, and news, if you don't fix this.”
I'm so far beyond the point of caring that I'm actually threatening my father with a sex tape right now. I will do whatever is necessary to have this whole situation undone.
“You're not serious.”
There are finally signs of the slightest kink in my father's armor. He goes to great lengths to portray the perfect image. He and mom both. So to have a video of me having sex with a convicted sex offender, regardless of whether he's innocent or not, circulating everywhere, would be completely unacceptable. And I can see it concerns him.
“I am one hundred percent serious. You need to get him out of prison, or I'll be releasing it right away.”
He holds my glare for a long moment, like a challenge, or maybe even trying to read whether I'm bluffing or not. And then he's reaching into his pocket and pulling out my phone, the phone he said was lost on the beach.
I'm floored once again by the depth of his lies and manipulation.
I remember at one point trying to see Jacob as the monster everyone said he was, but now I can see that the only monsters in my life are the people that raised me.
“Might be a little hard to do it without this.”
I stare at the phone in his hand, contemplating what my odds are and how quickly I could move to tear it away from him. But I know I wouldn't be able to get there in time before he held it out of reach or destroyed it.
My eyes flick back to him, and I hope like hell he can't see the worry on my face before I come up with something on the spot.
“I don't need my phone to do it. The files are on an online server. All I need is the internet just once, and I doubt you'd be able to keep me away from it forever. Plus, my best friend Tahnee has a copy.”
Please don't let him see that I'm lying. I sent the video to myself that morning that I got the names of Jacob's friends off of his laptop, keeping it as a last resort, for maybe if Tahnee hadn't believed me.
I had also thought about using it as something to show the people in town as proof and have them finally start treating Jacob better. I wouldn't have shown everyone, just one or two who would then convince the rest.
I would never have done it without Jacob's permission either, and I hadn't gotten around to asking him about it. I really didn't want to show it, but I was almost getting that desperate.
Like right now, I'm really not comfortable having it out there for the world to see, despite what I've just implied to my father. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
Finally, my father shakes his head and tosses my phone onto the bed. “I can't believe what you're willing to do to your own family, Remi. I'm more than a little disappointed in you.”
His words don't have the same effect on me that they probably would have in the past.
I still can't believe I've stood up to him like this, but right now, I'm too upset with him to let it really sink in.
“I'm willing to do what it takes for you to get him out because he's innocent, and it's the right thing to do.”
He gives me a look that I'm sure is used to intimidate his business associates, but it doesn't work on me. I hold my ground, steady and determined.
And then I watch as he reaches into his pocket again, this time pulling out his own phone.
He lifts it to his ear and then walks toward the door, giving me one last glance over his shoulder, shaking his head again before walking through the door.
The second the door closes behind him, I collapse onto the bed with my face in my hands, crying. My body is shaking with all the emotions I've been trying to keep a hold of.
Every time I think about Jacob in prison again, because of me, sharp pain slices through my chest.
It's all too much.
I continue letting it all out until there's nothing left but an anxiousness that has made its home inside me.
A short time after I've finally gotten a hold of myself, my father steps through the door to my room once more.
“Well, it looks like you might be too late.”
