Best of 2017

There are no televisions in the house. He doesn't listen to music. I suppose this is all he's ever had to do. Work, exercise, and read. He is a caged bird if ever there was one.

When I am confident I know his schedule, I decide that it’s time to move forward. It is mid-week. After lunch. His office door is still closed, and I know he won't be coming out anytime soon. I also know that he can check his cameras at any time. But I can only hope that his avoidance of me has spilled over into the digital aspect too.

My journey is a slow one. This part of the house is dark. Quiet. Ominous. I stay near the wall and keep to the shadows, trailing my fingers over the wood paneling to guide my way.

The first room that I encounter is a bedroom. Another master suite. But this one belonged to a woman. Javi's mother. Her things are still here. Just the way she left them. Preserved beneath a thick layer of dust. Her blankets are turned down, nightgown draped over the end of the bed. Nothing looks out of place. It appears as though nothing has been touched since that last morning she woke up.

I move through the room like a ghost, afraid of any noise I might make. Afraid to even breathe.

It is her desk that has captured my attention. A desk stacked with journals. One by one, I leaf through them.

They are chronicled by time. The earliest are the works of the brilliant scientist she was known to be. But as the years progress, they catalog her descent into madness.

The later stacks are filled with gibberish. Words rewritten over words. The pages are almost entirely black in some of them, impossible to read. But the ones that I can see are clear enough.

She talks of the implants. Her fears for Javi. She speaks of the steps she needs to take to safeguard the house. Her shopping lists. Her projects. She details her suspicions of the mailman. The maid. Her co-workers. And gradually, one by one, she tars them all as spies.

It is when Javi is five years old that the surgeries begin. She describes them in horrific detail, right down to the precise muscles she believes the devices are implanted within.

She decides it is not safe to keep Javi in school and withdraws him. Shortly after, she loses her job, citing irreconcilable differences. There is an indication that the doctors are trying to poison her with pills. Pills she refuses to take. And the journal entries continue over the span of Javi’s brief childhood.

Until the very last day.

Only one entry was penned on that day. Haunting last words.

They got to her too.

She can feel the device inside of her.

And it has to come out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MY EXPLORATION of the West Wing is a measured task. It is done slowly, day after day. I don't want to arouse Javi's suspicions, and there is only a limited window of time that I feel confident in my routine.

He continues to avoid me, for reasons I don’t know. But if the past is any indication that could turn on a dime.

I question if he’s even capable of feeling guilt for the things he's done. And then I wonder if he has tired of me. It shouldn't matter to me. I should be relieved. But instead, I am lonely. More isolated with every passing day. And I am hesitant to acknowledge that I miss his company. His warmth... and on the rare occasion he offers it, his affection.

Today, I pass by the remaining bedrooms in the West Wing. They are empty. Nothing to see. But I do find the surgery room again. And the tapes again. There are piles beside the projector.

I don't think I can stomach to watch any more of them. So I dig through the cupboards instead. Checking the labels and seeking out anything else that I might have missed before.

There are too many bottles to count. More surgical tools than most operating theaters probably have. Additional journals with irrational entries.

And one odd looking key.

At first, I dismiss it. Until I realize that it could be important. The lock on the door to this room is broken, and the key doesn’t fit. There is no window, so I go to another room and try the door and window there.

Still no luck.

I stare at it for a long while, trying to figure out what it could be for. As much as I want to believe it, it wouldn't make sense for Javi to have a key of importance haplessly lying around like this. He is too careful for that. Even if he forbade me from coming into this wing, he had to know I might still try. So I go back to the surgery room and poke around the cabinets for a clue. They are all unlocked. But they aren’t attached to the wall. It is simply a standing row of shelves. Shelves that might have something behind them.

It's a long shot. And probably too risky to be moving furniture. Can Javi hear me in this part of the house? It feels so far away from his office.

I'm not certain.

Until I think of the bird again. And I realize that I am choosing safety over freedom. That if I really want to know the answers to my questions, I need to figure out what this key is for.

I test the cabinets by wiggling them with my hand. They are old. Rickety. But they aren't as heavy as I thought.

I start out small. Sliding them just an inch forward.

Pausing.

Waiting.

Holding my breath.

Javi does not come. So after a minute, I move it another inch. And then another. And after I've cleared about half a foot, I can see it.

The square shaped door in the wall. A built-in cupboard. With a lock. My heart beats faster.Louder. I move the cabinets again, not stopping this time until I can reach the lock. My arm almost gets stuck in my panic to test out the key. But with a twist, I hit gold.

The lock turns. The door opens. And my shoulders fall when I see the contents.

Tapes.

They are simply more tapes. But why are they in here? Hidden away. It doesn't make sense.

Down the hall, a door slams and jolts me from my thoughts. He's coming. He must know, and he's coming.

Gathering the tapes into my arms, I shove them into my pockets. I lock the door and slide the cupboards back into place. Footsteps echo down the hall, and I know I am caught.

He will be here any moment. And there is only one thing for me to do. I climb back down into the underground tunnel and run. Testing each latch that I come to with a sliver of light above.

I pass up five before I find one that is unlocked. Oddly enough, it is the same one I escaped into before.In the conservatory. I swore Javi locked it again. But it doesn't matter. He's looking for me. And I need to hide these tapes and find a way to avoid his wrath.

I dart into the one place in this room where I know he doesn't have cameras and shove the tapes into a makeup case before securing them in the drawer.

There is a loud crash from somewhere on the opposite side of the house. I don't know what to do now. How to explain my absence, or if he knows. I creep back towards my room but stop when I pass the piano room.

The piano.

I haven't played since those early first weeks. I haven't wanted to play since long before I left Luke when he tried to turn me into a pop princess. But Javi asked me to play. He wanted to hear me play.

And I can only hope that it will calm him now.

I sit down on the bench and take a deep breath, closing my eyes as my fingers hover over the keys. Feeling them. Reacquainting myself with them.

I don't open my eyes. But I play. The song that I had stuck in my head for so long, but was afraid to give voice to.

It's rough at first. I have always done better thinking of the lyrics as I go along. Finding the right notes. I play it over and over again until I feel like I hav

e it right.

Everything else slips away. I forget why I came here as I get lost in the music. Nothing else matters at this moment. Not until I open my eyes and see him standing there. Watching me. Enrapt. Suspicious. I stop, and our eyes lock.

"Keep playing," he says.

I keep playing.

Javi doesn't say another word. He just listens. Watches. Waits until the song is over.

And then he leaves again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I HAVE UNDERESTIMATED LUKE. Underestimated his level of obsession, and also his reach.

He has hired a team of private investigators. He is relentless in his pursuit of my Bella. He is sniffing around too much. Making too much noise. Her face is plastered over every major news outlet.

Pop princess gone missing?

Rumors of nervous breakdowns abound. Fans theorizing a possible connection to her father's disappearance. Questions. Questions that I can't have. The agency can't know she is with me. And so it is time for me to quash the problem.

River arrives at seven, two hours later than he said he would. We give each other a brief nod, and then he asks me where the girl is.

If there is anyone I trust, it's River. We were in the sanitarium together as children. I did not speak, and he spoke too much. And as luck would have it, he ended up being my roommate.

He was annoying. Psychotic. But mellow, most of the time. And mellow was what I needed. When I wouldn't speak to him, he started writing me notes. In code. My brain liked the challenge. It took me a week to figure it out. He was smart, like me. So we wrote to each other. In code.

I didn't tell him my secrets, and he didn't tell me his. We just talked. About stupid things. But it was nice to talk about stupid things. When everyone else looked at me like I was the worst of humanity. Like I was a monster.River never did.

He was my first friend. My only friend. And he is the only person I would trust to look after my Bella.