CHAPTER 2: THE REVELATION
2591 Words
Sera Winters
The worst betrayals don't come with warning signs. They come with your mother's voice saying be grateful.
I couldn’t sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes I heard it again. What she is. Not who. What.
By the time the sun came up I'd already decided. I was leaving. I didn't care how far the nearest town was. I didn't care that my phone was dead. I'd walk if I had to.
I got dressed in yesterday's clothes. Jeans and a sweater. My hands shook so bad I could barely button anything. I didn't bother with my bag. I'd come back for it later. Or not. Didn't matter.
The hallway was empty when I stepped out. Quiet. Too quiet. I made it halfway down the stairs before I smelled food. Coffee. Bacon. Toast. My stomach turned.
The kitchen was at the end of the hall. Big and open with windows looking out at all those trees. Caelan stood at the stove with his back to me but I knew he heard me. The way he went still for half a second before cracking another egg into the pan.
"You're up early," he said. Didn't turn around.
"I'm leaving."
"No."
"You can't keep me here."
He plated the eggs. Turned around. Looked at me with those gray eyes. "Sit down."
"I don't want—"
"Sit."
It wasn't a request.
I didn't sit. I turned and walked straight to the front door.
Locked.
I tried the handle. Pulled. Pulled harder. Nothing.
"Told you," Caelan said behind me.
I spun around. "Where's my mother?"
"Gone."
"Where?"
"Home."
"Then take me home too."
"You are home."
My chest squeezed tight. Like someone had their hand around my lungs. "This isn't my home."
"It is now." He pulled out a chair at the table. The legs scraped against the floor. "Sit."
"I want to leave."
"Sera." His voice dropped. Got quieter. "Sit down. Or I'll make you."
My legs felt wrong. Weak. I hated that they felt weak. But I sat anyway because what else could I do?
He didn't sit. Just stood there looking at me like I was something he was trying to figure out.
"Your stepfather owed us a debt," he said. "He couldn't pay. So he offered collateral."
I didn't understand. "What collateral?"
"You."
The word hit me like I'd been slapped.
"That's not—"
"Your mother agreed. She brought you here herself."
"No. She brought me here to help. To stay for a few weeks. She said—"
"She lied."
"You're—"
"Call her." He pulled a phone from his pocket. Put it on the table between us. Black and sleek and expensive looking. "Ask her yourself."
I stared at the phone. At the light reflecting off the screen.
"My phone's dead," I said.
"Use mine."
"It won't have signal out here."
"It will."
I didn't move. Didn't want to move. Because if I picked up that phone and called her then maybe he'd be right. And I didn't want him to be right.
"Go on," he said. "Prove me wrong."
My hand reached for the phone before I could stop it. Picked it up. The screen lit up. Full bars. Of course it had full bars.
I dialed. My fingers felt numb on the screen.
It rang twice.
She picked up.
"Hello?"
Her voice. Normal. Tired. Like she'd just woken up.
"Mom?" My voice broke on the word.
A pause. Then a sigh. Long and exhausted. "Sera. I told you I'd call in a few days."
"I need you to come get me."
"I can't do that."
"Mom, please. These men said—"
"Sera." She cut me off. Her voice went flat. That same empty tone from the car yesterday. "Stop calling. I told you this was temporary. You're helping the family. Be grateful they took you."
Be grateful.
The words echoed in my head. Over and over. Be grateful they took you.
The phone slipped in my hand. I caught it before it fell.
"Mom—"
The line went dead.
I sat there staring at the screen. At my face reflected in the black glass. My ears were ringing. High-pitched and constant. Like someone had hit me in the head and the sound wouldn't stop.
She knew. She knew the whole time. She knew and she left me here anyway. She knew and she told me to be grateful.
My chest hurt. Not like sadness. Like I'd been punched. Like something had actually broken inside and now it was bleeding and I couldn't stop it.
"I need to leave," I said. My voice sounded far away. Like it wasn't mine anymore.
"No."
I stood up. The chair fell backward. I didn't look at it. Didn't care.
I ran.
Not to the front door. To the back. Through the kitchen. To the windows. To anywhere that wasn't here.
But Daxen was already there.
He stepped in front of me. Too fast. Way too fast. One second the hallway was empty. The next second he was blocking my way.
"Easy," he said. Smiling that awful smile. "Where you going?"
"Move."
"Can't do that."
I tried to push past him. He caught my wrist. His hand wrapped all the way around it. I pulled. Twisted. Yanked as hard as I could. He didn't even flinch.
"Let go."
"You're gonna hurt yourself."
I swung at him with my other hand. He caught that one too. Held both my wrists in one hand now. Easy. Like I was a kid throwing a tantrum.
"Daxen." Caelan's voice behind me. Cold and flat. "Let her go."
"She swung at me."
"I know. Let her go."
He did. I stumbled back. My wrists ached where he'd held them. Red marks already forming on my skin.
"You see?" Caelan said. Not looking at me. Looking through me. "You won't make it past the door."
"This isn't—" My throat felt tight. Too tight. "You can't just—"
"Your stepfather made his choice. Your mother made hers." He picked up the fallen chair. Set it upright like nothing had happened. "Now you live with it."
"That's not fair."
"No." He said it so simply. Like fairness was a joke he'd stopped finding funny years ago. "It's not."
I wanted to hit him. Wanted to scream. Wanted to do something that would make him feel even a fraction of what I was feeling. But my hands just hung at my sides and shook.
"What do you want from me?" I asked.
"You'll figure it out."
"What does that—"
Kieran appeared in the doorway. I hadn't heard him coming. Didn't know how long he'd been standing there listening.
"Caelan," he said quietly. "Enough."
Caelan looked at me one more time. Then walked past. Left the room. Left me standing there with Daxen still watching me like I was entertainment and Kieran looking at me like I was something broken that needed fixing.
"Come on," Kieran said gently. He stepped closer but didn't touch me. "Let's get you upstairs."
"I don't want to go upstairs."
"I know." His voice was soft. Too soft. Like he was talking to a scared animal. "But you need to."
"Why?"
"Because if you stay down here you're going to do something you'll regret."
I laughed. It came out wrong. Bitter and sharp. "I already regret everything."
"Not yet you don't."
He said it so soft. So certain. Like he knew exactly what was coming and I didn't.
I let him lead me back upstairs. Let him open my door. Let him guide me inside like I didn't know where my own room was.
"I'll bring lunch later," he said.
"I'm not hungry."
"You will be."
He closed the door. I heard the lock click. That sound was starting to feel familiar. Starting to feel normal. I hated that.
I walked to the window. Pressed my forehead against the cold glass. Looked out at the trees. At all that empty forest stretching on forever. No houses. No roads. No people. Just trees and more trees and nothing else.
My mother's voice kept playing in my head. Be grateful they took you. Be grateful. Like I should thank them for buying me. Like I should be happy about this.
I tasted metal. Like I'd bitten my tongue. But I hadn't.
I walked to the bed. Sat down. Stared at my hands. They were still shaking. Red marks on my wrists where Daxen had held me. They'd probably bruise by tomorrow.
I lay down. Curled up on my side. And let the shaking turn into something else.
Not crying.
Anger.
So much anger I didn't know where to put it.
- Writer
