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“What are you doing here?” I asked, baffled seeing Denise standing there.
I walked toward her with confusion in her eyes. She looked disheveled and a bit nervous.
“Hi, Damian.”
“I thought I made myself clear today at the office that I wanted nothing to do with you or the others.”
“Yes, I know.” She still stood there, looking batshit crazy.
“Is there an issue?” I asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. “I just wanted to tell you the truth.”
“The truth?” Was this it? Was she confessing to being my mother? Was she telling me that after all this time, she was ready to tell me?
Before she replied, she walked over to me and rubbed her hand against my forearm. My mind was spinning, trying to gasp the news I was about to receive. Then she pulled something out of her purse, and seconds I felt a stab in my arm. I looked down to see a needle in my arm, and confusion hit me.
Did this bitch just stab me?
“What the hell, De—” Before the words could fall from my tongue, I was out cold.
35
Damian
* * *
My eyes felt heavy, and I struggled to open them. I began throwing up violently to my left. My stomach felt as if it was being ripped around from the insides.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked, shifting in a chair. I felt dizzy. My hands were somehow forced behind my back with metal. My mind was in disarray as I tried to shake off the taste of acid sitting within my throat.
“Oh, he’s up! He’s up! Ladies, get over here,” a voice said in a whisper-shout. A voice that I was certain belonged to Denise.
“How much did you give him, Denise?! He looks like a zombie,” another replied. I was pretty certain it was Catherine.
“Don’t yell at me!” Denise shouted back. “You weren’t the one who had to load this giant into your car. I gave him just enough, okay?”
“Don’t act like I didn’t help you get him in the car,” Rosalina observed.
Holy shit.
Did I die and go to my own personal hell?
As my eyes struggled to open, I found myself staring at the three wicked stepmothers. They were all sitting in a row on three chairs as I sat in the middle of a living room. Tied up. After being stabbed with some fucking needle.
“What’s going on?” I muttered, annoyed by the women in front of me. I glanced behind my back at what was keeping my hands tied up. “And fuzzy handcuffs?”
“Those are designer handcuffs,” Rosalina remarked. “Versace. Extremely exclusive.”
“Oh, please, Rosalina. We know you got those rip-offs from the New York alleyways. That’s not Versace, that’s Versac-no,” Catherine remarked.
“I know fake Malibu Barbie isn’t talking about rip-off products. Seeing how your nose is a rip-off of a Kardashian and your tits are a rip-off of Pamela Anderson,” Rosalina shot back.
Catherine sneered. “You are such a bitch. Do you know—”
“What the actual living fuck is going on?!” I shouted, making the arguments come to a halt. A wave of nausea hit me, but I pushed it down the best I could.
They all sat back in their chairs as if they were surprised by my outburst.
“You don’t have to yell,” Rosalina stated. “And the attitude isn’t really called for.”
“I’m handcuffed to a chair with my ankles tied after being stabbed with God knows what and kidnapped by three psychopaths.”
“You really aren’t a very nice guy,” Denise commented. “Besides, it was just a dose of ketamine. I got it from my doctor under the table. It knocks you right out, doesn’t it?” she said as if she was proud of being batshit insane.
I cocked an eyebrow. I tried to shift myself in the chair as a cramp crept up my arm. “Untie me.”
“We can’t,” Rosalina said. “I mean, we will, obviously, but we can’t now.”
“Why not?”
“Because, if we untie you, you’ll leave. And we can’t have you leaving…at least not yet,” she replied.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because based on the will, if you and Stella are apart for more than forty-eight hours, the contract is void, and the money is divided between the three of us,” Catherine explained, gesturing toward herself and the other two wicked witches of the west.
“You’re doing this for the money?” I questioned, stunned. “You literally kidnapped and drugged me…for money?”
“Obviously. When it became clear that you had no intentions of choosing any of us for the stepmother of the century award, we had to take things into our own hands,” Denise said.
“By kidnapping me and tying me up with fuzzy handcuffs.”
“Exactly.” She nodded. “Now, don’t think that we are evil for this, really. If you would’ve given us a chance, you would’ve seen the goodness in each and every one of us.”
It was kind of hard to see the good in insane women who went as far as kidnapping a person for money. Not much of a good girl angle to hold on to.
