Page 88 of Uncrowned

“I… I mean… maybe.” My hands hovered over the cheek, jaw area as I went back to my memory. My heart ached as I kept Vaughn before me. “He had hair, here, on his jaw. Rough. And…a nose…I think maybe it was straight. I-I” My lips quivered from the pain of being away from him—from the pain I was suffering at protecting him. I was so conflicted on what I was supposed to do. “I don’t want to think about him right now!”

The blonde’s lips pursed, and her shoulder length hair swayed as she gave a half nod, half shake. As if my description was half-truth-half lie.

“Did the man ever say why he killed your parents?”

I wiped the tears. “They hurt me.”

“Truth.”

“And did he ever hurt you?”

The innocent girl was eaten by the bitter, angry bitch that was being reborn.

“He hurt me all the time. I fought him almost every day.”

In my entire being, I believed it. Vaughn did hurt me with his constant withdrawal. And we did fight, almost every day for training.

“Truth.”

“Did he rape you?”

My lips separated, and I looked down.

“I want to leave right now.”

Again, they stole glances at each other.

“You’re not going anywhere. Answer. Were you raped?”

I could have smiled through the emptiness that manifested inside me. Not at the question, but how she’d reworded it at my delay. I was changing. Vaughn was right. I didn’t recognize myself either.

“I was raped.”

“Truth.”

The blonde was so quiet, I’d barely heard her. She turned to the brunette, keeping her tone hushed as they began to argue.

“Enough of this. It can’t be him. She doesn’t even bear the brand. We have to call Katia right now. This woman doesn’t have any information. Penelope isn’t a threat. Did you not hear her? She’s a victim. The damn polygraph even tells us that. He didn’t take her, but someone did. Let the police find who it was. It’s not our guy.”

“We can’t be sure of that. She saw someone. She knows who it is.”

“In her mind. She’s been with him for four months. Of course she feels she knows him. It’s over, Stacy. Look at her. Look what we’ve done. She’s innocent. We’re calling it.”

An aggravated sound left the brunette, and she stood, grabbing a file and spinning to leave the room. The blonde stood, unhooking me from the machine. I continued to let the tears fall, breaking down in an occasional sob here and there. It was easy when all I felt was distant. Numb. Regretful.

What had I done?

I thought I knew when I left. Nothing had turned out like how I assumed. I figured I could just go home. If I could see that my parents weren’t there… If I could lay in my bed, maybe I’d wake up. Maybe I could—could—I had no idea. Maybe I could try to start over? Maybe I could find some sort of independence while trying to get Vaughn to come around? To talk to me so I could understand more of who he was?

But then the women had showed up on my porch before I could even get inside. They’d taken me. Days later, I was still with them. But not in the building they’d originally taken me to. That only led to tunnels, and into a new location. Another office-type of place.

I closed my lids, leaning forward to rest my head on the table. Darkness surrounded me, and I could see Vaughn so clearly. He was part of me whether I liked it or not, and even here, in my dreams, I couldn’t escape him. I didn’t want to. I just wanted to go back. I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I was weak for who he needed. Too weak to return, even if I could. A queen couldn’t be frightened of life. She had to be fierce. I wasn’t. Not yet.

“Penelope. Ms. Taylor?”

Groggily, I lifted my head, trying to blink in a new dark-haired woman before me. This one had layered waves a few inches past her shoulders, and her green eyes practically glowed against her tanned skin.

“Hello, Ms. Taylor. I’m Agent Marchase. I have a few questions for you.”