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I don’t do well in small spaces. I never have. But Mum ensured my claustrophobia only got worse over the years when I was shut in my tiny room, often in the dark due to our lack of electricity while she entertained guests.
I clench and unclench my fists, trying to stop them from trembling, but it’s pointless.
I want to cry out, to demand that whoever was just in here comes back and helps me. But I don’t.
I don’t care who it is out there. I refuse to beg. I refuse to appear weak.
I’m better than this.
I’m better than him.
Mum might have fucked me over at every turn, even when I thought she was dead, but she trained me for times like this, hardened me, made me untouchable.
I repeat those words over and over as I rock back and forth, fighting to keep my breathing under control. My mind is still fuzzy from whatever drugs they gave me and my hallucinations continue, stopping me from drifting back off to sleep. Not that doing so would be any relief. The images just continue in my slumber.
No matter what I do, I can’t get Theo’s hard face or Mum’s deathly pale one out of my mind.
I have no idea how much time passes as I talk myself down from the edge of a constant panic attack when the clunk of the lock on the door being opened makes me jolt upright and my heart jump into my throat.
Light shines from out in the hallway and makes me wince as a dark figure steps into the room.
Refusing to cower, I carefully and incredibly slowly get to my feet, holding his eyes.
“What do you want?” I snap, my voice rough.
I’ve lost all sense of time. It could have only been a few hours ago that he dragged me from my mother’s body, or it could have been days. I really have no idea.
“Emmie, I’m—”
“No,” I bark, but it doesn’t come out as strong as I was hoping. I’m too weak. Taking a step forward, I hold myself tall despite the fact that my body wants to curl back into a ball. “Don’t you fucking dare try to apologise for this. You’re not fucking sorry, and don’t even try to pretend that you are. All of this is your fault,” I shout, holding my hands out to gesture to the tiny cell he must have thrown me in after drugging me.
“Em, that’s not even close to being true.”
“No? So do you want to tell me why the fuck you’ve locked me up like some fucking prisoner?”
He holds my eyes for long enough that I know I’m not going to get a response.
“You’re a fucking arsehole,” I cry, surging forward, curling my fists and slamming them down on his chest. “I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you!” I chant louder with each hit until I’m screaming like a banshee.
My muscles burn with the movements and my chest aches from my heaving breaths, but I don’t stop. I can’t.
Everything I’ve attempted to deal with over the past few months comes rushing out of me in a violent outburst. My anger from Mum’s abandonment, the loneliness of watching Dad and Piper fall in love. Hell, Stella and Seb, too. The frustration over having my morals and loyalty questioned by this prick in front of me only to force me into a one-eighty and make me start to fall for him and his giant cock.
“Fucking arsehole,” I scream once more, the fight beginning to drain out of me.
The tears scorching my eyes finally drop, but I don’t stop hitting him to wipe them away.
Let him see. Let him witness exactly what he’s done to me.
I don’t care any longer.
The lies, the secrets… All of them have ground me down.
He had my fucking mother locked up in a cell. He allowed her to kill— I swallow the giant lump of emotion that erupts in my throat at the thought of her bleeding to death down here.
“I hate you.” My voice is weaker this time, so quiet that I’m not even sure he can hear it over my erratic breaths and less than impressive hits as my body starts to give up.
As much as I might want to pretend that I’m strong, that I can hold my own against him right now, I know I can’t.
