Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“I want to see you smile. Hear you laugh maybe,” I say. It’s probably one of the most honest things I’ve ever said to her. To anyone.
There’s a moment of silence and I’m not sure where this is going. If she’s going to burst into tears. If she’s going to throw herself into my arms. But she does neither of those things.
“It’s all about what you want, isn’t it, Judge? You wanted to fuck me. You fucked me. But then you decided you didn’t want me after all, so you locked me up. Literally. And when I tried to escape you, your brother decided to take what he wanted too. Maybe it’s all the Montgomery men and their wants. No. That’s not right. It’s all men and their wants. Their whims. And women are just pawns. At least within The Society.”
She steps toward me, protecting her flowers from me.
“You want to see me smile? Hear me laugh. Once upon a time I would have given you that. Did you know that? I would have given you anything. But that time is past. You didn’t want me and you can’t change your mind anymore. So now you can want all you like. I will never smile for you. And if you ever hear me laugh, the instant I see your face that laugh will die. Because you know what I want, Judge? I want to be free of you. Of all of you!”
5
Mercedes
I apply my crimson red lipstick with a shaky hand, feeling strangely at odds with the woman staring back at me in the mirror. I still recognize her beneath the makeup, but she feels like someone from another life.
The routine I used to fall into so easily every day, applying my armor before I stepped out into the world, now makes me feel like a stranger in my own skin. When Judge sent Lois to give me back my makeup bag this morning, I knew it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart. Neither is his agreement to let me see my friends. I would be a fool to believe that for even a second.
The reality of it is I’m his hostage, and this is a negotiation, much like everything else in my life. I have no doubts Georgie and Solana have been making a lot of noise about my absence, and The Society won’t like that. Judge has certainly let it be known that he doesn’t either. Today isn’t about allowing me to spend time with my friends. It’s about showing proof of life to keep them quiet.
A deep wave of grief moves over me, and my lipstick clatters into the sink, smearing red across the white porcelain. Goddammit, I’m so sick of crying. I wave my hands in front of my face, forcing the tears back before they ruin the makeup I’ve spent the last twenty minutes applying. I can’t do this. Not today.
Just when I think I’ve succeeded in pulling myself together, a door slams from somewhere down the hall, and it makes me jolt. My chest pulls tight, throat squeezing as my heart knocks against my rib cage at a frantic pace. A cocktail of hormones floods my body, and I have to grip the sink hard to keep from passing out.
It’s just a fucking door, I tell myself as I close my eyes and drag in some steadying breaths. But even so, it takes me several minutes to come back to myself. And I hate that I’ve become so weak. The Mercedes De La Rosa I know never showed fear. She didn’t startle over the slightest unexpected noise or jump whenever someone came into the room. She didn’t cry for no reason at all, and she certainly didn’t let a fucking man wound her pride.
I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I know I don’t like whatever it is. To make things worse, everyone is looking at me like I’m a delicate little doll, handling me with kid gloves to make sure I don’t break.
Today will have to be different. I will need to make sure of it, for Solana and Georgie’s sake. They need to see the Mercedes they know and love. They need to leave here with nothing less than confidence in my assurances I’m okay, for their own safety. I don’t need Judge to remind me of that.
With a shuddered breath, I pick up the fallen tube of lipstick and cap it, returning it to my bag and zipping it up. Then I stare at my reflection as my fingers move to the knot of my robe, lingering with hesitation. I haven’t looked at any of the marks other than the one still fading on my wrist. I haven’t been brave enough. But I know if I want to return to myself, it’s time to face it. I need to see the fresh scars left by another man’s anger for me to bear for all of eternity.