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Knox isn’t able to tell, neither is Ronan, but at any moment I fear I’m on the verge of a break down. It will be just like the first day in the dark: panting breaths that claw at my lungs until they burn. Hot tears that fell for so long I sat in a puddle of them.
So I shove it all back in when it threatens to spill out. I shut myself down, I close out the noise. I focus on anything, anything, that distracts me.
Right now it’s the jingling of the guard’s keys that bounce at his hip.
My eyes zero in on the light that reflects from them. The changing rhythm of the metal on metal when he slows his steps to flash a badge then walks again. A loud beeping noise accompanied by the unoiled hissing of door hinges ushers us into a new larger room.
I feel lighter than I did before we walked this deep into the jail. Before we came this far, we were stopped, stripped of our belts, phones, and wallets. Ronan flashed them a copy of my passport.
I didn’t even know I had a passport. I’ve never left Paduka. It only brings up more meltdown worthy questions that I know he won’t answer.
A new sort of metallic noise draws my attention from the guard. The clacking of cuffs. Cuffs that are wrapped around each slender wrist of a frail looking woman. One strong gust of wind and the woman might be blown away. They clink again. Light shines off of them much better than it had the keys. The glint of it making me squint.
“Oh, Violet.” My mother whispers with more emotion than I’ve ever heard from her.
She’s...sober.
The scent of smoke and alcohol don’t wash over me when she comes nearer. Her slender frame is still frail but her posture is different. The way she walks like she won’t stumble over at any moment is different.
And her eyes...her eyes are so clear, so focused it’s alarming.
The memory of who she used to be and the memory of how I became who I am today start to filter into my mind slowly until I’m right back in the darkness of the basement all over again.
My gaze snaps to the glint of sunlight that shines against the metal of her cuffs. It’s hard for me to pull away from the mesmerizing shine of the chains holding her now. I follow each shackle as she stands and reaches for me. Then the flawless material of the signature gray suit of Ronan blocks my view as he steps between us.
I need something. I need something to focus on. If I let myself be present, if I let the racing thoughts that become a physical pain in my chest rise up and over take me, it’ll all come crashing down.
And Ronan won’t hesitate to kill me if I fuck up whatever it is he’s plotting.
There’s no doubt in me that his threats are true. Not after three miserable days in hell. Not after the stories Knox shared.
“Ronan,” my mother protests, “I only want to see her.”
“There will be time for that later, Veronica.” The panels of his jacket smooth as he tugs on it, buttoning it. If I stared hard enough, I can imagine I can see each fiber of the material. The strands woven together until it became this utterly too expensive piece sewn to more pieces that became this very expensive jacket.
He steps aside and the glorious shine of her handcuffs comes back into view. The gift of the distraction makes me want to smile but the thought doesn’t play out across my features.
Ronan steps behind me, his hands clasping my shoulders. Firm reminders of all the things I should not do, should not say, and the fears I’m no longer able to have. There is only one thing I can be afraid of now.
And that’s him.
I hate him.
“Violet, you look...nice.” My mom sniffles, a smile tugging her lips up to reveal her deteriorating, dark teeth. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, you look like an adult now.”
I’ve looked like an adult for a long time but I wonder if she just never noticed or if I really have changed in the recent months.
Her movements cause the light to slither down the links. It’s such a beautiful white light. Perfect and pure looking.
Innocent.
“I suppose you are eighteen now. I hope you had a good birthday.”
I wonder how many criminals have worn this particular pair of shackles. Does the guard keep these on his belt for everyone to use? How many people are in this prison anyway? What have they done to lead them here?
“Violet?” Her voice is distant. “Violet. Are you okay?”
Ronan’s fingers squeeze my shoulders like a signal of some kind.
