My Dad’s Basement, My Prisoners

Chapter 4

To make sure Cassian fully embraced his brand-new role as "Father", I dragged him into a crash course in father-daughter bonding.

Monday morning, I sprawled across his massive mahogany desk and shoved aside the contract he was reading—the one supposedly getting signed tomorrow. "Daddy, let's go to the amusement park!"

Cassian didn't even glance up. He just grabbed another document from beside the contract. "No time."

I pouted and, without a shred of panic, fished my secret weapon out of my little backpack, a single photograph. I slid it right in front of him. "Then take a look at this."

The photo showed Cassian, grinning like a total fool. A pink Minnie Mouse headband sat perched on his head, one arm awkwardly cradling a three-year-old girl, the other hand hoisting a melting ice cream cone aloft.

He stared at that picture for a solid ten seconds. His ears flushed crimson in a heartbeat. "It's photoshopped," he insisted, stubborn as a mule.

"No way!" I jabbed a triumphant finger at his pale, queasy face in the photo. "And besides, the first time you rode the carousel, you almost threw up right after you got off."

Cassian's face twisted through a spectacular series of emotions, as if he'd just been struck by lightning. He rubbed his temples in exasperation and finally caved with a sigh. "Just one place."

"Amusement park!" My hand shot up immediately.

"Dinosaur park!" he countered.

"Deal!"

At the dinosaur park, Cassian kept a stern mask plastered on his face the whole time, standing before the enormous T-Rex skeleton like a stone-faced bodyguard while I launched into a breathless tale of "T-Rex vs. Superman".

"Superman... fought a T-Rex?" The question came from the depths of his very soul.

"But that's exactly the story you told me!" I shot back, brimming with righteous indignation. "You also said Snow White ended up marrying the Beast because the prince was just too spineless."

Once I'd finished my story, he was still scowling. Yet the very next day, he actually took the initiative to drag me to the amusement park.

"We already hit two places, so what's one more?" he explained, his words at complete odds with his actions.

On the carousel, he sat rigid as a plank of wood. During the bumper cars, he nearly launched our vehicle clean off the track.

Finally, in the haunted house, a "zombie" suddenly sat bolt upright from its coffin. His face drained of all color, but I, nestled in his arms, was in stitches, laughing so hard I could barely breathe.

After we stumbled out, he finally snapped, shame and fury blazing in his eyes. He clamped his hand over my mouth and hissed through gritted teeth, "Stop laughing!"

Over the past few days, he'd been running himself ragged, and yet, oddly, he hadn't so much as breathed Celestine's name.

But I knew these good times couldn't last.

Celestine was about to clash with her one true male lead, Darwin. She'd storm off alone to some dangerous, remote place to clear her head, only to catch the eye of human traffickers.

Cassian would charge in to save her, but he'd be mistaken for a kidnapper and slashed to within an inch of his life. After that, he'd sink into a deep depression, even hitting the bottle, spiraling down the path to ruin.

I had to do something.

So the next day, after Cassian left for work, I used the allowance he'd given me to hire a few street punks loitering nearby. I told them to grab the bully who'd been shaking down kids at the alley entrance and bring him to me.

I stared down at the little thug, trussed up like a turkey with a stinky sock jammed in his mouth. Channeling my dad's icy tone, I said, "Don't worry. I'm just locking you up for the night. You did swipe Emmett's lunch money last week, didn't you? Think of this as payback."

The thug squirmed, letting out muffled whimpers of terror.

It took every ounce of strength I had to drag and haul him into the basement. I'd just clicked the lock shut when I heard the rumble of a car engine in the courtyard.

I bolted to the sofa, grabbed the remote, and pretended to be glued to a cartoon.

The moment Cassian stepped inside, he saw me sitting ramrod straight, wearing the guiltiest 'I'm a good girl' look on my face. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Lyra, have you eaten?"

"Not yet! I was waiting for you, Daddy!" I chirped, all sweet and innocent.

He walked over and, as usual, ruffled my hair. "I'll go upstairs and change first."

Just as he turned to climb the stairs, a muffled THUD echoed from the basement! That damn blonde brat. He was ramming his head against the door!

Cassian froze mid-step. He shot me a suspicious glance, then strode straight toward the basement.

My heart shot straight into my throat. I lunged forward and blocked his path with every ounce of my tiny body. "Dad! Go change your clothes first! My stomach is about to cave in!" I latched onto his sleeve, deliberately pitching my voice a full octave higher.

Just then, another heavy THUD rumbled up from the basement, followed by a string of muffled, garbled whimpers.

Cassian slowly, finger by agonizing finger, pried my grip off his sleeve and fixed me with a cold stare. "Lyra. Who's in there?"

I blinked my big, innocent eyes and started slinging the most ridiculous nonsense. "I... I dunno! Probably a rat! A super-duper giant one!"

He let out a frosty snort, the kind that dripped with pure "Do you think I'm three years old?" sarcasm.

The moment the basement door swung open, the sight before him froze even a seasoned man like Cassian dead in his tracks...

The yellow-haired punk had bloodied his own nose. My sock was jammed so deep in his mouth he could barely breathe, and he was sobbing and squirming on the floor like a maggot. The second he spotted Cassian, his eyes lit up like he'd seen a savior. He thrust his butt forward and wriggled even faster, like a desperate, pitiful worm.

The atmosphere instantly turned so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Explain." Cassian's face was a mask of stone.

I twisted my fingers together, lowered my head with a bashful, lovesick sigh, and cooed in the voice of a starry-eyed maiden, "He... he's the boy I like."