Breaking Meredith (Disciples 4)

The maniacal grin stretching across his face as he cut through a man lying prone on a table with one of those electric carving knives we used to carve the Thanksgiving turkey with.

But it wasn’t a fucking horror movie. It was real. Too fucking real. Something that haunts my nightmares to this day.

Matthew smiles down at me, and it instantly triggers the memory of his face splattered with blood.

I blink and just as quickly the memory fades away.

Before I have a chance to make an excuse and dart off to safety, Matthew’s hand clamps down on my elbow. Trapping me. “James, you don’t mind if I borrow my sister, do you?”

I try my best to keep my expression neutral and not show the apprehension I’m feeling as James says, “Of course not, boss.”

Showing fear now would only give Matthew more power. Fear to him is like blood in the water near a fucking shark.

“Thank you, James,” Matthew says, sounding more expectant than grateful.

James nod his head and walks off.

Matthew waits until he’s out of an earshot before he asks, “So, how are you enjoying your new accommodations, Meredith?”

Now he’s wearing my discarded smirk on his lips. Oh, I bet he knows exactly how much I’m ‘enjoying them’.

I shrug my shoulders, hoping I come off as nonchalant. “I’ve stayed in better. In fact, my accommodations don’t feel like accommodations at all. They feel like a prison…”

Matthew lifts a brow, pretending to be interested as he asks, “Oh?” But I’m pretty sure he could give a fuck. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

My lips curve into a tight smile. “The host is a jerk. The food sucks. And the curfew is entirely unreasonable.”

“Now, now, Meredith,” Matthew says with mock disapproval. “Is that any way to talk about Simon after he’s so graciously taken you into his care and his home?”

For a moment, I wonder how Matthew would react if I told him the truth. Would he get angry on my behalf or would he give Simon a pat on the back? There’s really no telling with him.

“Simon is an overbearing ass.” I double-down.

Matthew sighs. “I’m sure everything he’s done is for your protection.”

And there’s that saying again that just pisses me off. “Seriously, Matthew. You need to talk to him and tell him to back off.”

While I don’t necessarily want to leave Simon now, especially until the new little game I’ve started has completely worked its way out, I could use more freedom.

Matthew’s eyes gleam and his mouth stretches into a grin. “Now why would I do that, Meredith?”

Oh, I can’t wait to wipe that smug grin off of his face when I break his second in command. Putting up with Simon’s rules and restrictions almost makes it worth it. Almost.

“Because you’re his boss? Because I’m your sister? Because it’s gone past the point of ridiculousness?”

“I have complete faith and trust in Simon, and everything he’s doing to take care of you,” he says as if it puts the matter at rest.

There’s so many things I could say. So many that would probably shock the hell out of him… but then again, they might not. I have no clue what he already knows. It’s impossible to tell. All I can tell is that he is obviously amused by all of this.

“Matthew, please,” I plead, switching tactics, though I doubt it will work on him. Long gone are the days when we were close. When I could trust him to have my back. There was a time, though it feels like an eternity ago, when all we had in this world was each other. “He’s treating me like a child.”

His grin sharpens and his icy eyes stare into mine. I almost expect him to say something cutting and smart, what I don’t expect him to say is, “It’s out of my hands now, Meredith.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

How can it possibly be out of his hands? He’s the one with all the power here. If he wants to fix this for me, he can damn well fix it.

“It means, dear sister, that you’re in his hands now,” are the words that come out of his smug, smirking mouth.

But I swear it sounds more like you’re pretty much fucked, Meredith.

Great. That’s just great. Matthew is essentially saying he’s wiping his hands of me. Normally, that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, but right now I fucking need him.

“Coming to this city was the biggest mistake of my life,” I say bitterly and try to jerk my elbow out of his hand but his grip tightens.

“Speaking of which,” he says smoothly, easily switching the topic of conversation. “You never did tell me what happened to Ahmed…”

Just hearing Ahmed’s name causes this strange sort of numbness to buzz through my veins. It’s almost as if my body is subconsciously protecting me from facing the emotional consequences of my actions.