And in that moment, I hated my father, too. His crimes didn’t put us in this mess, because Damon would’ve eventually found another door if that one had been closed. I only hated him for leaving. Gabriel and Damon Torrance could do anything they wanted with us now. And given their reputations, I tried not to think about how bad this could get or I’d be sick.
“At least now,” my mother continued. “We have something to work for. A light at the end of the tunnel.”
The divorce settlement? Was she actually that stupid? Damon would get Ari pregnant, and there would be no way out after that!
“And what were you planning for us to do in the meantime?” I challenged. “As we wait for this year to pass?”
What would I do as she tried to wait this out, day after day, week after week?
“We survive,” she finally answered.
Survive.
Submit, you mean?
After a few moments, I left the room and made my way upstairs, shutting myself in my bedroom for the rest of the night with Mikhail. I fed him but forwent dinner myself, not hungry anyway, and I only left briefly to shower.
I couldn’t make my mother’s decisions for her, but she also couldn’t make my choices for me, and there was no way I’d do whatever it took to survive. I had my limits, and I wasn’t going back to that place with him.
If it even came to that.
But hopefully I’d find a way out of here before it did.
I blinked my eyes open in my bedroom hours later, my lids still way too heavy, but the air was chillier than usual.
Was it six yet? My alarm hadn’t gone off.
I reached over and hit the button on my bedside table, the male voice in the machine saying loud and clear, “Two-thirteen a.m.”
“Two-thirteen?” I breathed out, painfully awake now.
I closed my eyes again, hoping to fall back asleep, but my brain was already working and assessing. The night was silent outside. No rain or wind, but we would probably get snow in the next month. I allowed myself a moment to feel wistful for it, but the weight of all our troubles descended again, and I wanted time to slow down, not speed up.
I loved wintertime, though. And not because of my name. It was just a festive period, and happy things made me happy. I always decorated my room, because I could still feel the lights and the garland, hear the music from the snow globes, and smell the scent of pine. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to decorate this year. My pride was planted firmly, and I refused to make the best of this. Hopefully I wouldn’t be around for it anyway.
Turning on my side, I adjusted the pillow under my head and stretched my legs out under the sheets, feeling the space, smooth and cold.
Not warm.
Wait. Where’s…
“Mikhail?” I called out, popping my eyes open and my head up.
The dog slept at my feet, but he wasn’t on the bed. I listened for the jingle of his collar as it did when he rose to answer me, but there was nothing.
“Here, boy.” And I clicked my tongue a few times, calling him.
He couldn’t have gotten out. I locked the door.
Then I noticed the scent of something buttery and sweet, and I sat up, throwing the covers off. My heart picked up pace. She didn’t, I groaned to myself.
I made my way over to my desk, my fingers grazing a ceramic pot with what smelled like tea and a small dish with a flaky croissant. My mother had broken in to leave me food.
Christ.
I walked over, finding my door open, thanks to her. Really, it was probably useless to lock it. If Damon lost the master key to all the rooms, he could, you know, just kick it down, but still… I couldn’t not lock it, so...
I stuck my head into the hallway. “Mikhail?” I whispered.