Page 6

FIVE

brEAKING POINT

RUNRUNRUN—DUTCH MELROSE

CALISTA (23)

1. Mother

2. Father

3. Holden Graham—Senator

4. Gunnar

5. Adam Moretti—Ash’s father

6. David Blacksburg—Killian’s father

7. Jackson Gray—Dominic’s father

8. Paul Gallagher—state senator

9. Kyle Benjamin—Mayor

10. Marcus Rutherford—city councilman

11. Hayden Wilson—Judge

12. Robert Bailey—Brockton Chief of Police

13. Jose Brown—City Councilman

Looking over the famous list I keep hidden—the list of people I’m going to fucking kill if I ever manage to get free—my stomach churns and grows tight, knowing there will be another name added to it tonight.

Of course, it’s another birthday—my twenty-third—which means my mother has another party planned. Another opportunity for her to make money off of my pain and suffering. Another chance to sell me to the highest bidder in a position of power who can use and abuse me however they want.

My arms and legs begin to itch, so I scratch hard, leaving marks behind that dig deep into my flesh. Tucking the journal back into the hole in the wall, I get up from the same stained mattress I’ve been chained to for the last ten years and hobble my way over to the bolted window, the heavy metal chain scraping against the floor. I snatch my bottle off the shelf where it always stays and take a few more of my Xanax than usual, wanting—needing—to feel as numb as I possibly can. I’ve learned how to self-medicate, and although it might not be the best way to handle things, it’s worked quite well when it comes to numbing myself completely.

In addition to the seven different kinds of medication I’ve been taking for years now, three more have been added to my daily dose. My mother couldn’t handle my “outbursts” and all the talking to myself that I was doing, so she had our family doctor put me on more shit to mask the person I was becoming, turning me into nothing but a shell of myself.

I swallow the pills dry, feeling them catch in my throat before finally sliding down with what saliva I can gather on my tongue. They won’t take away the anger—the deep-seated rage that simmers just beneath the surface. But they do take the edge off, making it easier to play the part of the obedient daughter—the puppet controlled by broken strings—the perfect little party guest.

As I wait for the dizziness to set in, I have to remind myself of my escape plan. It took years of meticulous planning, but I’m finally ready.

Just a few more months , I tell myself. A few more months of enduring this hell, and then I’ll be free.

I breathe in deeply, trying to center myself. I can’t afford to lose control. Not now, not when I’m so fucking close.

I shut my eyes and allow the numbness to creep in, washing over me like a dark wave that threatens to drown me. It’s the only way I can survive. And as I stand here, leaning against the bolted window, craving the madness from the outside world, I know that somehow I’ll make it out alive.

* * *

My neck is stiff as fuck. Trying to move it, my eyes fling open once I realize I’m still leaning against the wall beside the window. I obviously nodded off and fell asleep. My body is stiff and achy, motivating me to reach for my pill bottle once again, this time taking the pain pills I’m prescribed.

Walking the heavy chain back to my bed on the floor, I sit down with a huff, noticing Addy standing near my bedroom door. She looks at me, a nervous smile on her face, reminding me of mine. But in so many ways, she is me. A figment of my imagination, Addy was created to look exactly like me, but the free version—the one who can leave on her own free will. The one who isn’t tortured, chained, and raped. I envy her, even if she isn’t real—she’s real to me.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says, crossing her scar-free arms over her chest.

Rolling my eyes, I reach under the mattress, feeling around for the only thing that’s made me feel alive during my imprisonment.

“So?” I huff in annoyance, taking note of the pathetic look she gives me as I pull out the razorblade.

“You have a party tonight. Is cutting the best idea?”

“Addy, not now,” I spit, lifting my t-shirt and spreading my legs.

Finding an area of skin that hasn’t been scarred yet is hard, but I eventually locate a small, untouched spot. Pushing the dull blade against my skin, I swiftly flick my wrist and make a slice, wincing from the searing pain as the razor’s edge scrapes dully into my skin. It’s not as deep as I was going for, but it’ll do. Blood drips from the jagged cut, allowing a sigh of relief to slip from my lips, reminding me that again, I’m alive, even if I don’t fucking want to be.

“Why not just fucking kill yourself?” Addy asks, sitting down next to me, watching the thin river of blood coat my inner thigh.

“I don’t want to die, despite what I might say, Addy. I just… I just need to feel something.” I smile at her, a glassy look in my eye. “I’ll break free one day, and I want to be alive for it.” I cling to the hope that I’ll escape this life instead of being brought out in a body bag.

Sighing, Addy reaches out to wipe the tears that have begun to silently fall from my eyes. “You will make it out alive,” she says softly, her voice full of conviction. “The boys will come, Calista; you’ll see.”

Anger suddenly surges through me when she mentions them—the boys I told her never to bring up. “I don’t need them, Addy. I’ll get out of here on my fucking own.”

“Cali, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just know that they’re coming for us. They love us too much to let us rot in here.” She smiles, angering me further.

I glare at her, scoffing. “They’ve left us in here this fucking long; they’re not coming.”

“Shh, just relax,” she whispers, smoothing out my blonde hair.

I nod, feeling a bit of the numbness recede as we sit here together, the only two people in this wretched place. For the first time, I allow myself to believe that there is a chance for me to escape. With Addy by my side, even if she’s just a product of my own mind, I truly feel hopeful.

* * *

When my mother comes in a few hours later, her entire demeanor is different than usual, especially on a party night. I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to anger her and earn myself another beating I could’ve prevented.

“Put this on and get ready. Your guests will be arriving soon, and you don’t want to keep them waiting,” she says softly, handing me a black dress—one that looks just like all the others from over the years.

A dull gleam flickers in her tired eyes, the lack of evil giving me an eerie chill. I take the dress from her hands without fighting and wait for her to unclasp the chain around my ankle before standing up. She just stares at me, at a loss for words, which isn’t like her.

“What is it, mother?” I quietly ask, biting the inside of my cheek to help calm my racing heart.

“I just can’t believe you’re already twenty-three. You’ve grown so much over the years.” A forced smile curls on her lips as she reaches out, tucking an oily strand of hair behind my ear.

“Mo-” I begin, but she cuts me off, changing the subject quickly.

“You need a shower first. You can’t go in front of your guests with dirty hair,” she adds, grabbing my wrist and leading me out of my bedroom—somewhere I haven’t left in years.

Usually, her or my father comes in and bathes me. They bring me food when they feel like it, watch me take my meds, and even change out the bucket I have for a toilet. Me getting to leave my prison to use a real shower is new and exciting to me, so I keep my mouth shut, afraid that one wrong word will make her change her mind.

The upstairs hallway looks smaller than I remember. The paintings on the walls have changed, but the same dull blue paint is still on them. The aroma of freshly cooked food wafts up here, making my stomach growl and my mouth water, showing just how hungry I really am. I haven’t had a hot meal in years. I get bread and lunchmeat or cold soup, whatever they’re feeling like feeding me.

I walk into the bathroom and stand there nervously as she starts the shower, pulling out a clean washcloth and towel for me to use.

What the fuck is going on? I wonder silently, but I still don’t open my mouth to ask.

“Okay, I’ll leave your dress and makeup on the counter for you. When you’re done, make sure you’re fully ready before you knock on the door for me to let you out.” She smiles again as she walks past me, closing the door behind her and locking it from the outside.

I strip faster than I ever have, rushing into the shower without checking to see if the water is hot enough. But I don’t care.

Tears well in my eyes as I stand under the hot water, feeling the dirt and grime wash away from my skin. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensation of warmth against my flesh, letting the water soothe my aching body. For the first time in years, I feel a sense of freedom, even if it’s short-lived.

“Don’t stay in there too long,” Addy warns out of the blue. “We don’t want her to come back angry.”

“You’re right,” I agree, shutting off the water with tears in my eyes, not knowing the next time I’ll get to use it.

Once I’m ready, I step out of the shower and dry off before putting on the black dress that she left for me. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, feeling a small flicker of hope rising within me as I run a brush through my hair, feeling like an actual person instead of a doll used to play dress-up with.

As I carefully apply my makeup, I can’t help but wonder what her game is. This sudden change in her behavior is too good to be true and extremely worrisome. When I’m finished, I knock on the door, sadly waiting for her to come get me as I was told. When she finally unlocks the door, I brace myself for whatever might be coming next.

“Come on. The guests are waiting,” she says, her voice strangely gentle.

She leads me downstairs, past the grand hall, to the basement, where the parties are always held. With the party in full swing, I feel the nerves inside me begin to act up. The sight of so many people makes my heart race, but I force myself to stay calm. As we move through the crowd, I catch sight of something that makes my blood run cold—my father, standing near the staircase with a sinister smile on his face as he talks to the boys’ fathers.

Before I can process what’s happening, I realize that not only are all the guests powerful men and women, but Dominic, Ash, and Killian are amongst them in the crowd... again.

Fuck no. I haven’t seen the boys or their fathers since a few birthdays ago when they bought me, used me, and degraded me.

As I turn my attention back to my mother, I see the coldness in her eyes—the same look that has tormented me for years.

It’s another setup. My escape plan suddenly feels further out of reach than ever. Anger and fear surge through me, but I take a deep breath and compose myself, refusing to look at them.

I won’t give up. Not now. Not when I’m so fucking close to getting my freedom.