Page 26 of Her Wicked Plan

It’s one thing to be trapped behind these walls, but it is another to have to walk around looking like you just went through electroshock therapy. I swear, with how insane my hair looked, I could have been recast as Hagrid.

“What are you writing about?” Eliza questions, not caring that I still have yet to respond to her.

“That is none of your business.” I snarl.

“Of course not. Your journal is your privacy.”

Flipping my journal open while still gazing at the woman to my left, I turn page after page until I get to an empty one. My eyes fall to the blank paper, well, the almost blank paper.

That stupid fucking dot.

The tip of my pen hits the sheet, and then I pause my movement when a quiet sigh fills the space. Groaning, I roll my neck, the cracking sounding like a symphony as it shoots upwards.

“What do you want, Eliza?”

“I’m bored and thought you would like some company.”

“When do I ever want company?” I deadpan.

She picks at her fingers. “Uh... never.”

“Exactly. Now. Go. Away.” The demand comes out harsh, but not harsh enough since she is still sitting on the couch. Exhaling a laugh, I lean forward to hold her attention. “I’m going to say it again, Eliza, and hopefully, you’ll get it through your thick skull this time. Go away before I jam this nice new pen in your pretty green eye.”

Those multi-colored eyes go wide with shock. Her head nods frantically as she pushes herself out of the couch and scurries off. A satisfied sigh leaves me, and I get more comfortable in my chair.

“Now, where was I?”

CHAPTER 8

Leo

“They gave you a computer? That was nice of them!” my mother says on the other end of the phone.

“Everything that they have given me was nice of them.” I sit back in my office chair, scoping out the area. “Between the room and my office, I may try to make this place permanent.”

“You would want to continue working there?” There is a hint of something in my mother’s voice, but it is hard to decipher the tone.

“If all goes well, I wouldn't mind staying here.” I realize why she has asked me in that tone. “I know it’s farther away, but I’ll still come see you guys.”

“Sweetheart,” her voice holds a hint of sadness, “you don’t visit much as it is, and I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but with you being further away now, how will you be able to visit us more?”

“I only meet with my patient two days a week. The other days are to go through my notes from our sessions. I can do that from anywhere, I suppose. And my weekends are free.”

“You know your father, and I would be thrilled for you to come visit.”

“How is Dad?” When I speak to my parents, my mother is always the only one on the phone.

She sighs. “He is good at keeping himself busy. I swear that man never stops working. If it’s not his job, then it’s something at home he is working on.”

The memories of my father pop into my mind. When the man wasn’t working, he started a new project around the house. He once took it upon himself to surprise my mother with a full bathroom makeover.

I offered to help many times, but he told me to play outside because I was still too young. Being outside and playing with our imagination was what children should be doing.

So, I went outside to play with my neighborhood friends but soon grew bored because they didn’t have the same imagination as me. I went back into the house and bugged my dad until he agreed to let me help.

He is the man who taught me where hard and honest work can get you. I looked up to him not only for his work ethic but also for his love for my mother.

He would do grand things for her on anniversaries and little things here and there to make her smile. It was when he did the little things that my mother smiled the most.