Page 58 of Monster's Edge

Even when I turn my back, and even when the door is closed, I know that I’m still going to feel like he’s watching me.

*

IT’S TEN MINUTES LATER, maybe more, when I finally pull myself from the warmth of the overhead shower. He’s got one of those fancy showers where the actual showering space is like the size of a small bedroom. My dad had the same style installed throughout our house a few years ago. I wonder if they used the same contractor.

Stepping out of the shower, I reach for a fluffy black towel that’s hanging on the rack. I didn’t notice it earlier. Maybe he sneaked in while I was showering and set the towel out. A quick glance around reveals that all of my clothes are gone. Yeah, Ian came in.

Awesome.

I’m not sure if I should feel betrayed or uncomfortable at the realization that he came into the bathroom without my knowledge. It’s not like I can really do anything about it. Probably, I just need to let go. Right? I just need to let go and let this wash over me like everything else I’ve been dealing with lately.

Only, I don’t want to let go.

I don’t want to let everything wash over me.

I want to know if Ian paused in the bathroom and watched me washing my body. Did he look at me as I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, completely exhausted from the day? I know that my exhaustion is from more than just today. It’s from weeks, months, and years of being under my father’s thumb. The worst part is that until recently, I didn’t realize just how much control my dad actually had.

Ian is the one who told me that my father owned the dance company I danced at. He’s the one who started to make me think that maybe my father doesn’t always have my best interests at heart. Sometimes my father can be overly cruel or mean, but as far as villains go, he’s not the worst.

At least, that’s what I’ve always told myself.

Now...now I’m realizing that’s not exactly true.

I dry myself off and stare at my face in the mirror. I’m a little scratched up and I think I might have some bruising tomorrow, but I’m in one piece. There’s a hairbrush on the counter and I brush out my hair. It hangs down, framing my face in long, damp strands. I place my hand over the bandaged area where the bullet scratched me up. I’m leaving the bandage on for now. If Ian wants me to take it off, I will.

Then I turn to the door.

There’s no use putting this off any longer. It’s time to go face the man who has saved me, but whom I don’t feel safe with. There’s no telling what Ian will do with me. He could brand me, cut my fingers off, or hurt me in other ways, and I’d be completely powerless to stop it.

Only, the reality is that I don’t care anymore.

My own dad tried to sell me and I have so many emotions ripping through me right now that one wrong step and I know I’m going to have a total and complete mental breakdown. The person who was supposed to be my protector turned out to be the villain, and now I’m walking into a lion’s den – or dungeon – and I don’t know what I’m going to face.

I just know it’s going to be better than anything I’ll face with Mr. Ricci.

5