As the door closes, I have the sinking feeling it closes on the last opportunity I’m going to have to get Annabelle out before her whole world goes down in flames, and, if I can’t find some way to get to her, her with it.
Annabelle
It’s gotten easy to pocket the pills.
Every morning my mom brings me one, a soft, stricken look on her face. She pets my hair and looks really sad, but never makes an attempt to stop them.
I call her Mommy. I hug her, a clingy, toddler-esque hug.
They all think I’ve had a nervous breakdown. Maybe I would have, if they had any fucking say. Good thing I’ve always been a good bullshitter.
Well, not always.
I guess I should thank Paul for that one.
Anyway, she comes back in the evening before bed to give me another one. I do something like play with her hair or pet her cheek. The other day I pressed mine against hers. I like to mix it up.
They don’t think I’m capable of being this pleasant in a sober state, of faking it on this level, and I’m thankful that they underestimate me. I’m thankful for my waspish nature.
This morning after she gives me my pill, I shove it into its hiding place under my tongue, back far enough that I can talk, and I play my hand.
“I want to get you a present.”
My tone is soft. I try to keep as close to the mannerisms I really affected on the night they had me drugged up.
“A present?” she asks.
I nod. “For your anniversary.”
I’ve ruled out the probability of sneaking out. I may be able to arrange it if I had help from someone on the outside, but even then, I’m not sure. I’ve wandered around the house, scoping out the security, and Pietro takes paranoia to a new level.
Though I guess someone as awful as he is… maybe he’s right to worry about people wanting to kill him.
They’ve stopped asking about Liam.
My mom tried at first, hoping to pick back up where she left off. I’m actually thankful I got sick that first night, because I was loose enough that I probably would’ve actually told her about Liam if she could’ve kept me talking just a little longer.
But I just kept telling them about Thor, as if I actually believed Thor was my boyfriend. My knowledge of Thor being no more than what I picked up watching a single superhero movie, I eventually had to start making shit up.
They think I’ve lost my mind. It’s all good. It’s been fun, here and there.
But I’m ready to be done. No more fighting, no more faking, no m
ore bullshit. Freedom, for the first time in my life.
I’ll do anything to get it, even hug my mom and act like they finally broke my brain.
Pietro must be so pleased with himself.
“You don’t have to get me anything, honey,” she tells me. “Having you home again is present enough.”
“No,” I say, but pleasantly, with a smile. “I want one I can wrap. I know what I want to get, but it’s a surprise. It’s at the mall. Could you have someone drive me there so I can buy it? I’ll need a little money. I’ll ask Paul for some when he gets home.”
She offers a pained nod. “I’ll take you to the mall. You sister can come, she’ll help you pick something out.”
“No, not her.” I frown at this. “Maybe Greg could take me. I don’t want you to see it, I want it to be a surprise when you open it at your party.”
“I’ll ask,” she tells me.