A dull laugh exits Lukas as he falls against the counter beside me, tickling his free fingers up and down my spine while hemaintains a death grip on my phone. “Mybabygirl is an adult capable of making her own decisions. I asked if she wanted to come home with me; she saidyes, please.”
That is a striking misremembrance.
“Oh, I’msureshe did.” Mom scoffs. “Have you no respect?”
“None. But you know who does?Your daughter.” He combs his fingers through my hair. “She’ssogood at being very, veryrespectful. I wish you’d stop calling her when she’sbusybeing so respectful. I hate hearing her whine because she wants to talk to you, and if it keeps happening, I’ll keep her phone for more than a day, so she won’t be able to talk to you ever again.”
My mouth falls open, and the moments of silence between Lukas’s last word and my mother’s reply makes me think we have the same expression. She stammers, “You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever I want. And Clara will do what I tell her to. You raised a good, submissive little toy for me,” he purrs, then his tone goes razor sharp, “I’d thank you if you weren’t pissing me off. She’ll call you, when I let her. Until then, be a good girl like your daughter, andshut up.”
He hangs up.
On my mother.
And drops my phone back in my pocket.
Words pop in my throat as I try to speak. I can’t.
Eyes cold, he scans me. “I’m the bad guy,” he murmurs.
I manage to nod, find a word, speak it, “I…caught that.”
“Now she can’t say crap since you didn’t call her back, because you were with me, and you’re an angel, doing exactly what she wants, and you don’t have to worry about her calling, because the power is in your hands. You’ll call when you want to, when I ‘let’ you, which will be when you want to and only when you want to.”
My breaths shorten. “But…that’s…youliedto mymother.”
“When? When did I lie?” He plucks my chin, forcing my eyes to pin on him. “It’s not my fault if she mixes up the chronology of when I asked you to come home with me and how many times you’ve saidyes, pleaseto me since. You are good. You are respectful. I would hate it if you whined about wanting to talk to anyone other than me. I am capable of keeping your phone should you decide to whine repeatedly. It’s leading, cupcake. I learned manipulation from some pretty professional teachers in the subject. And the best lies? Are the ones twisted into truth.” He pauses, taking me in. “Are you mad at me?”
I’m…shocked.
“Breathe,” he murmurs. “One deep breath, for me.”
I suck the air in.
“Let it out.” He taps my lips with his thumb. “Through here.”
Parting my lips, I do as I’m told.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re mad at me,” he says.
I swallow. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re allowed to be.”
“I know. I don’t… I don’t know what I’m feeling. You…” I try the breathing again, slower this time, more controlled. “In half a minute, you fixed the power imbalance I’ve struggled against my whole life.”
“Fixed?” he murmurs. “No, cupcake. I just taught her who’s always held all the power. ’Cause that’s the thing about abusers…they need their victims more than their victimseverneed them.”
I swallow again, and my short breaths return for a different reason.
Without releasing my face, he pets my head. “I’ll be your bad guy whenever you need me to. Your mother, your father, your family does not get to hurt you anymore. Now.” He lowers his gaze to my lips. “We were discussing ways for me to get my hands all over you…”
“Yeah,” I exhale.
“In my bed.”
I pull my lip between my teeth to stop it from trembling.
