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He is taller than me and stronger than me. I’m injured, and he’s already overpowered me once before. What are the odds that I will winthisfight? And even then, do I want to fight him? He already choked me until I lost consciousness once before.
Every time I lose airflow, so does the baby.
And their lungs are nonexistent at this point. No. Fighting won’t help us.
But maybe befriending him will. Maybe I can talk him into letting me go. It’s a stupid thought, but it’s all I have. And it’s my only shot of getting out of here alive.
I might not be able to tell Alexander where I am, but I can protect our baby this way. I try to get up, but when I put too much pressure on my ankle, I nearly topple over. Laurent is faster than me, though, and catches me by my sides before I can fall.
I don't like him touching me, but I try not to recoil. Instead, I thank him. He helps me up the stairs.
He grunts but doesn't say anything.
The house is so much warmer than the cold basement he kept me in. There's only one light on in the hallway. I barely have time to take anything in before Laurent gestures to the bathroom door.
I do my business and wash my hands. I’m aching all over, obviously more badly hurt than I originally thought. It takes a while for me to calm down and not blow up on Laurent for doing this to me.
Amicable.
I need to be amicable right now.
When I go back into the hallway, he's slumped against the adjacent wall, his arms folded. I can't figure out why he would want to do this.
"Why do you want to see my father so badly?"
He resorted to kidnapping me, after all.
"Wouldn't you like to know," he snaps back.
I know he's being snarky, but as he helps me down the stairs again, my window of opportunity is closing. I need to get something out of him.
"Yes," I say. "I guess it's just strange to me that you would have to resort to this, you have so many resources at your disposal. Why do you think kidnapping me would get his attention?"
Laurent gives me a pitiful look.
"I haven't seen your bastard father in years," he says. "He makes himself very elusive when he wants to be. You're the only thing he cares about."
I want to tell him that it isn't true, but he seems so convinced.
"Why are you sure of that?" I mutter. "Michel Moreau only cares about himself."
Laurent nods like I've said something profound.
I try to keep my face as blank as possible, even though I feel a pang of hope that I seem to be making an inroad with him.
"He sees you as an extension of himself," Laurent says. "A prize, a trophy, a treasure." I grimace. Does he know about my father's nickname for me? "So yes, he's a selfish motherfucker. But he also cares about you because you are his own flesh and blood."
We're back in the basement now, nearing the chair he's kept me tied to.
There's so much dread building in me. I don't want him to tie me back to that chair. I want him to keep talking, I want to reason with him that this isn't the best way to handle this.
"Why do you want him to come here?" I ask.
He stares at me for a moment, as if weighing his words. After a while, I wonder what he could really be thinking about for so long. His eyes seem to glaze over, as if he's slipped deeper into his mind.
"I'm going to kill him."
To be honest, I'm not shocked. If what my father said was true, Laurent tried to kill him once before, on the same day he tried to kill me. On the same day he killed Dolores.
