Page 27 of Depravity

Seriously, this fucking bitch. When will she take a hint? I run my hand through my hair, feigning more boredom. “Have you checked her room?”

“Of course I have.” She hisses. “I thought she’d still be where we left her, still half out of it, but she’s gone. There isn’t a shred of…”

“What do you want me to do about it?” I should have been smarter, packed a bag, made it look like she’d run away. But then, there’s still time for that. The house is big enough that I could make it look like she’s just hiding somewhere, licking her wounds until she comes to a decision.

“You’re a Reaper.” She states. “And considering what we did, I figured you’d be the best person to approach.”

“Does your father know?”

“No. He’s still away on business, thank god.”

“Fine. In that case, gather her things, bag it all up and I’ll come collect it.”

“Why?”

“Do you want people to be suspicious?” I snarl. “Do you want people to think that she’s not run away?”

“What if she hasn’t? What if…?”

“What if what?” I ask. God, she’s so dense I have to spell it out. “Of course the girl has run. You think she’d want to stay there after what you did?”

“Whatyoudid.” She says. “I did it for you. For us.”

“And now we need to cover our tracks.” I state, doing my best to ignore the pathetic tone of her voice.

“What if she comes back? What then? How would we explain…”

“She ran away.” I shrug, trying hard not to smile at the way this plan is coming so perfectly together all of a sudden. “If shereturns, then we can have her shipped off to Oblivion, just like you always wanted.”

She takes a sharp intake of breath that gives away her absolute glee at that thought, and I know then that I have her. She’ll do my bidding; she’ll cover my tracks and I’ll have everything I need to ensure Brynn is right where I want her, without arousing any suspicion.

He leaves me locked in his room. I have no clothes, no belongings, nothing but the skin I was born in and I feel disgusting, completely and utterly repulsive.

My body is covered in bruises. Some I know are from today and some - no, I can’t think about that. About what he did, whattheydid.

My aunt literally gift-wrapped me and handed me over. Oh I knew she hated me, I knew she wanted me gone, but this? I can’t believe she did this.

More tears stream down my face. At least now that I’m alone I won’t get beaten for crying, but as I sob harder and harder, I know they won’t make a difference. Nothing makes a difference.

After he left, I flung myself at the door. I tried with all my might to open it but it’s too heavy, and it didn’t even budge an inch despite my ministrations. The window is similarly locked. But then, what would I do if it did open? Conrad’s place is at the very top of a skyrise. Beyond flinging myself over the balcony to my death, there is no escape route that way.

And I’m naked.

If I did get out, I could hardly get far unnoticed. I don’t doubt he has an army of men on the other side, ready to bundle me up and return me.

I’m trapped here, just like he wants.

In the bathroom, there’s a stack of toiletries. I so badly want to take a shower, to scrub my skin and remove every last trace of him. A voice in my head says that I’ll only be making myself nice and clean for when he returns, and the thought of that actually makes me vomit.

I don’t want to get back in the bed, I don’t want to be anywhere near anything he’s touched. But I’m exhausted already, or perhaps it’s the last side effects of the drugs they gave me, and it’s not like I can just stand here all day, naked and absolutely freezing.

And that’s how he finds me, curled up in his bed. Fast asleep. Like I was just waiting for him to come back like a good little girl.

I jerk awake at the feel of his touch, and he’s smiling down at me like I’m giving him everything he ever dreamed of.

What the fuck is wrong with this man? He must be deluded, or insane, or something, but none of those thoughts give me any comfort. Even if he is as mad as a hatter, that only puts me in more danger because you can’t rationalise with crazy. You can’t reason with it.

“You looked so peaceful.” He says, as if he isn’t the cause of all my nightmares.

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