“So, I’m your prisoner?Weare your prisoners?” she says, her voice breaking even though she tries to hide it.
“You are myfamily. And you are my guests,” I correct her.
She shakes her head, licking her lips slowly as she stares at me with hatred storming behind her bright green eyes.
She can be angry all she wants. She kept my children hidden from me for five years.My children! My blood!If anyone has a right to be angry here, it’sme.
“Who wants to see their new room?” I ask loudly, turning away from Selene. I can see she’s too angry to see reason now, so I won’t even try to talk to her about fairness. Solenne is by my side in a second. “I want a pink room with dragons!” she says.
“A pink room with dragons? I don’t have dragons inanyof the rooms. Where do you suppose I could find some dragons?” I ask.
“I not sure,” she says thoughtfully.
“They live in caves,” Arron says from a few steps behind us.
“What do you want in your room?” I ask him. He looks at his mother, seeking permission. She is angry and tense, but she nods and smiles at him.
He looks relieved, taking another step closer to me.
“I want, um, a spaceship,” he replies as though no one has ever asked him what he wants before. “From space,” he adds in case I didn’t fully understand.
“A spaceship from space and a pink room with dinosaurs. Let’s go pick a room, then we can organize the important stuff afterward,” I smile.
Arron throws another nervous glance at his mother. She nods, smiles again, and shoos him on with her hands. “I’ll come help you choose in a second, baby,” she says, reassuring him.
Chapter4 - Selene
I stand glued to the floor in the living room, my mind racing, my blood boiling at the audacity of that man. Who the hell does he think he is? It’s literally kidnapping. There is no polite way to describe it. It is what it is, and he can call us hisguestsall he wants; it doesn’t change the fact that we are now his prisoners.
No matter how wide his smile or how charming his voice… I am a prisoner again. And I can’t leave because I have to protect my children…again.
I’ve basically swapped my father for another mafia man. A man whom I used to believe had a heart, but now I am questioning my old judgments. Maybe I was just too young to see him for what he really is. Just another version of my father. Willing to use whatever methods he deems necessary to get what he wants.
I realize I still have my backpack over my shoulder, so I let it drop to the floor and push it against the wall with my foot.
My children are chattering and seem comfortable around him. I don’t want to take that away from them or let on that I am quietly losing my mind in this moment. They have been through so much; there is no reason to make them think this place isn’t safe or welcoming to them.
I will do anything to keep them safe. Anything.
So having to suck up my anger and hide it from them isn’t exactly foreign to me. I’ve been doing it, as best I can, for the past five years.
I know they aren’t stupid or blind. They can sense things even when I try to protect them from them. They sensed howterrible it was at my father’s house. They even saw it for themselves, no matter how hard I tried to cover their eyes.
If we truly are stuck here, I would rather they believe this place is different than understand it for what it really is. A prison with better views.
It takes me a long time to calm my racing heart enough to go through to the rooms and see how things are going. I walk into a beautiful room, bigger than the entire motel we were staying in, with a massive king-sized bed at the center, four pillars at the corners, and soft white mesh fabric draped over it.
“Mommy, Daddy says we can have this room! And the bed has a tent on it! We can sleep inside a tent!”
“That’s wonderful, sweetie pie. And which room did Arron choose?” I already know, but I’m trying to make conversation so the children can see I’m relaxed.
“They wanted to share,” Simon says, looking up at me from where he’s standing next to the bed, pulling throw pillows off it. “They said they always share?”
“Since they were born,” I tell him. “I don’t think they’ve been apart from each other for more than five minutes.
“We’re negotiating duvet colors and what we’re going to decorate the room with,” he smiles at me.
I smile back, but it’s tight and controlled.
