Page 71 of Firethorne
He seemed to be able to switch off his emotions, or at least appear like he did.
For me, it wasn’t that easy. Everything felt heightened. And as I gazed around the apartment, I had the feeling that I’d swapped the confines of the manor for an asylum. In fact, I was convinced I had. White walls, clinical cleanliness, nothing here that I could use to harm myself or others. Bolted windows and doors that others could unlock, but not me. But my straitjacket was metaphorical, invisible. It was the emotional trauma of being kept confined, the night terrors and inability to express myself. The constraints grew tighter with every day that I was kept here.
Some days, I wondered if I’d ever get out. But then most days, Damien was here to remind me that there was a worldoutside of these walls. A world I had to get back to. But I could only get to it through him. He held all the cards.
Eventually, Damien sauntered out of the kitchen, sipping his coffee. Then he told me, “I checked the CCTV last night. There was no one else here. But I’m going to show you something that might help you the next time you see something.”
“How about you let me go? Then I won’t need help,” I barked back.
Damien huffed, and the look on his face told me he thought I was being ironic.
“You know I can’t do that.” He lowered his gaze. “Not yet, anyway.”
“I can look after myself,” I argued.
“Like you did back at Firethorne?” I gritted my teeth as he mocked me, playing it off as him being truthful. “We all know how that went, and it wasn’t great, was it?” he chided.
I swallowed, wanting to snap back, as Damien placed his coffee on the table with an ease that made me want to pick the damn cup up and throw it at the wall or his head. Either would work for me.
“It isn’t safe for you to leave,” he added. “You just have to trust me.” Then he turned his back on me and strolled over to the front door, clearly indicating that he was done with this conversation.
But I wasn’t.
“Shouldn’t I be the judge of what’s safe or not? It is my life, after all. If I don’t want to be here, you should let me leave.”
He stopped in front of an abstract painting that hung next to the door, and I saw him shrug as he silently acknowledged what I’d said, then composed himself and totally ignored it.
Without a word, he pulled the frame of the painting forward, and it opened like it was on hinges.
How had I missed that?
I’d been over this whole apartment with a fine-toothed comb.
I sat forward and watched as he exposed the wall behind the frame, and I saw a red button on the white plaster hidden behind the painting.
“I should’ve shown you this earlier. That’s on me,” he said plainly, then he gestured to the button. “This is a panic button. If you ever get scared, need my help, or if anything happens, you need to press this. Someone will be here within minutes, seconds if we’re already on site. But it’ll alert us right away. Wherever we are.”
“I don’t need a panic button, I need a key to leave or for you to open the fucking door,” I shot back.
He ignored me and closed the frame back over the button, reiterating, “You’re safe here, Maya. I don’t want you to have sleepless nights. Not if we can help it. But you need to accept that, for now, you’re not going anywhere.”
“You saidwe,” I replied. “So, it might not be you answering the alarm or coming in here?”
He spun around to face me, his dark expression burning as he regarded me from across the room.
“It’ll always be me,” he stated firmly. “The others might see the alert, but I’ll make sure they know to do nothing but observe you, to make sure you’re not in any immediate danger. No one except me will ever enter this apartment. You have my word.”
“I get the feeling I’ll be your prisoner here for a lot longer than I want to, longer than is healthy. Not that being held prisoner is ever healthy.”
“You’re not a prisoner, Maya.” His jaw ticked as he took a moment before saying his next words. “You’re my guest. My responsibility. This won’t be forever. But it is your reality... for now. You need to accept that.”
I stared back at him. His words and actions were working against each other.
“I don’t need to accept anything. Butyouneed to accept that I can’t stay here for much longer,” I stated. “I need to get out.” I faltered and almost didn’t say the last part. But I added, “I need to find my father.”
Damien charged across the room to stand over me, or rather, to leer over me in a threatening manner, his hands braced on the back of the sofa as he leaned down and glared with a fury he was trying to contain.
“No good can come from looking for him,” he spat. “I’ve already told you, if you speak to him, my father will find you. I can’t let that happen. This is why you can’t leave yet, Maya. You’re not ready.”
