Page 60 of Misery
Ivar storms in, Starla behind him.
His face is thunder when he sees Elfe behind the bar.
Sees me positioned as protection.
The rage rolling off him fills the space like smoke.
"What the fuck is she doing here?" He's not talking to her. He's talking to me. Like she's property to be discussed.
"Working," Elfe says. Her voice is steady but I see the tremor in her hands. "Hi, Dad."
"You're supposed to be at Emil's, under lockdown, remember?"
"I am protected." She gestures at me, and something in that gesture—proprietary, intimate—makes Ivar's eyes narrow dangerously. "Oskar's here."
Ivar's eyes narrow further as he takes in how close I am to her.
"You." He points at me. The finger shakes with rage. "Outside. Now."
"Dad—"
"This doesn't concern you."
Something snaps in Elfe's expression.
Weeks of being treated like fragile glass finally crack.
The mask she wears, the good daughter performance, it all falls away. "Doesn't concern me? It's my life! My safety! My choice!"
"You're my daughter?—"
"I'm twenty-three fucking years old!" Her voice rises. The bar goes completely silent. Even the jukebox seems quieter. "I'm not a child! I'm not your property! I'm not something to be managed and handled and discussed like I'm not standing right here!"
"You're acting like one. Working when there's a price on your head. Fucking the help from the looks of it and?—"
"Careful," I warn.
My voice carries the promise of violence.
I don’t give a flying fuck if he’s my Road Captain.
"The help?" Elfe laughs but it's bitter. Sharp. The sound makes several people step back. "At least 'the help' was there. At least Oskar actually protected me instead of just talking about it."
Ivar's face reddens. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You knowexactlywhat it means." She's shaking now but not from fear. From rage. Years of it, finally boiling over. "Where were you that night, Dad? When they broke into my apartment?"
"Elfe—" Starla tries to intervene.
"No, Mom. I'm done being quiet. Done being the good little victim who doesn't make anyone uncomfortable." She stares at her father with eyes that could cut glass. "You were at the clubhouse. Drinking. Playing cards. Celebrating something, I don't even remember what. While I was fighting for my life on my kitchen floor."
"That's not fair?—"
"Fair?" She slams her hand on the bar. Several people jump. Bottles rattle. "Was it fair when they held me down? When they tried to—" Her voice cracks but she pushes through. "You promised to protect me my whole life. Promised nothing would ever hurt me. But when I needed you most, when thoseanimalswere tearing at my clothes, where were you?"
"I couldn't have known?—"
"Emil saved me that night, not you. And now Oskar's the one protecting me. Killing for me. He eliminated threats at Bubba's before they could touch me." She's crying now. "So yeah, I'mwithhim. Because he makes me feel safe in a way you never could."
