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Helena nodded again, the movement taking on a kind of manic quality to it.
“And yet you confronted her.”
“No.” Helena had uttered the denial, but her face colored with guilt.
“Remember, I could see you.”
Helena’s voice was barely a whimper as he lifted a syringe from the box. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”
He flicked the side of the syringe and tested the needle before he beckoned her closer.
Even as she shook her head, she moved forward.
She might hate her sister, but she knew what he was willing to do to punish her if she refused him again.
Helena leaned down and laid her arm across the top of the desk, baring the impossibly pale skin on the inside of her elbow. Her blue veins were quite close to the skin and the needle broke through her skin with ease.
“Now, be a good girl, and go to sleep. I’ll need you in the morning.”
She stood, turned her eyes away from her arm.
Helena had a weak stomach when it came to blood, and he had no interest in picking her up off the floor.
“Good night, father.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, she knew that she was in the wrong. He turned on the bank of monitors with a single flip of a switch. Folding his arms across his chest he glared at the man climbing into bed. “Enjoy it while you can, Mister Chandler. It won’t be long now.”
