Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Thunder rumbles outside loud enough the light fixture in the bathroom rattles. It’s then I come up with a logical theory.
Internet access.
What if there’s something inside me that relies on Wi-Fi, but since it’s been storming off and on the past two days, it’s not been able to connect?
I quickly finish up on the toilet, wash my hands, and then splash water on my face. The chill against my skin chases away the dregs of sleep, creating more intellectual awareness.
I’m being held here against my will.
The thought is painful, but it’s the truth. I don’t want to be here. And I know if I try to leave, Seth will do everything in his power to stop me.
If only I could get a hold of my dad, then maybe he could rescue me. Bastian, a known brawler from his youth, would take great pleasure in beating Seth’s ass for hurting me.
Did he hurt you?
I have bruises. And last night, at bedtime, I endured sex with him. Disgusted during the act, I silently cried. I know, in my heart, I hate that man. If only I knew exactly why.
With no phone, no car, no money, I’m at a loss as to where to begin with this great escape I’m planning. If only I could figure out a way to reach out to someone—anyone.
When I finish up in the bathroom, I walk silently through the darkened bedroom, noting the rhythmic snoring of my bedmate. Since he’s still asleep, I can continue with my attempt to break free of this mental prison.
First off, where am I?
Our home is not far from the lab. In fact, I could walk to it if I really wanted to. They’re on the same property. This means something.
Am I a part of some strange experiment?
That’s the only logical explanation.
What about Kaitlyn?
It’s not just me and my baby who are prisoners here. Kaitlyn is too. I’m going to have to get all three of us away from this man.
Seth has a home office, but he only uses it to pay bills and check emails. His real work takes place at the facility nearby. But there might be something I can glean from his office.
I sneak into the small, sparse room that’s off-limits for Kaitlyn to play in and sit at his desk chair. The desktop computer screen comes to life when I move the mouse. Unfortunately, it’s password protected. Since I can’t seem to recall anything of value that would help me, I give up after two incorrect tries. I’m not sure if it’ll lock him out and don’t want to take that chance.
Spinning around in the chair, I scan the room that the screen lights up dimly. No books, no notebooks, no clues. When my eyes land on the closet, an icy feeling of dread freezes me in place. At first, I think it’s because there’s something in there that might scare me. But then I’m hit with a barrage of memories.
Me as a little girl.
The monster.
Fingernails on me.
Terror.
A hot tear races down my cheek, and I swipe it away. I remember my nanny molesting me. Her face, her shoes, her voice. I’m able to recall every sickening detail as if I’ve opened the lid of a tightly shut box.
And then I see my father’s face as I yell at him.
He knew and tried to brainwash me into thinking it didn’t happen.
Vivienne.
Her name was Vivienne.
Flashes of a hotel room where I sit and talk to Kaitlyn come to mind. She shows me with her dolls the terrible things this woman also did to her and…
I draw a blank.
Her father.
Seth?
No. Seth’s not her real father.
My pulse quickens at that realization. Has this man kidnapped us? How did we get here?
I close my eyes, desperate to remember more, even the sick parts of Vivienne. As clear as day, I see a journal written in female swoops and curls. There are pictures of me and this woman. We look so much alike.
Mother.
Now I know my mind is playing tricks on me. Vivienne was my nanny, not my mom. My real mom left us.
So I was told.
Your mind plays tricks on you, Romy.
Maura, my previous therapist, is in my head, telling me to sit down and shut up. There was a time when I did just that. I swallowed the pills she gave me and did the psychological work in an effort to go along with the brainwashing my father insisted upon.
I have another fragment of a memory in my bedroom back home. Me and Bastian are arguing. I’m furious at him. And then I see his rage-filled face as he slams my head against a wall.
Megan got away.
Who’s Megan?
A woman in an evening gown runs through the city, the wind blasting her hair, making it whip all around her.
Relief floods through me, though I don’t know who Megan is.