However, I’ve had enough of sitting in this dingy room with these asshats looming over me. If it gets me out of here, I’ll give them my truth.
So, with a final deep breath, hoping against hope that these two, believe me, I open my mouth and tell them about the real me. Details that I never wanted to share with another human being, and it pisses me off that I’m being forced to share details of myself with these two assholes, but it is what it is.
Looking up at them, taking in their tired faces and messed up hair, sticking up all over the place from them running their hands through it in frustration, I start, “I grew up in a council house with my mum in Northern Ireland. She did the best she could, working odd jobs, but she suffered from mental health problems and wasn’t always able to hold down a job, or ensure a steady paycheck. It was always just the two of us, and while we never had any money, constantly trying to scrounge together enough pennies for food or the electric bill, we always had each other.” I maintain eye contact with the boys, dropping my mental walls so they can see the hurt, the pain, the heartache that consumes me, hoping they will finally see the truth in my eyes and realise I am not in on my father’s schemes like they think I am.
“I never knew my father. My mother never talked about him, his name is not on my birth certificate. I had no idea who he was,” I state, noticing Preston’s eyebrows rising up at that piece of information, and the confused look that crosses Barrett’s face. Before they can interrupt, I continue on with my story,
“That is, until my mother died, two weeks before I showed up here. I came home from work one day to find she had killed herself. It wasn’t her first attempt, hell it wasn’t even her fifth. As I said, she had her own demons,” I explain sadly, tears welling up in my eyes as I open myself up to the loss and overwhelming grief that comes with saying these words out loud.
A few tears overflow and run down my face, but I don’t have the mental fortitude to stop them. Let them see my weakness, my pain. What good has being strong done me anyway?
“A week after she died, my father,” I snarl, with my voice full of venom, showing them how much I despise the man, “had me shipped over here, under the guise that he didn’t know I existed until then, claiming that he wanted to get to know his daughter.
“I have since learnt that that was a crock of shit. He couldn’t give two fucks about me, only about what I can do for him.
“I swear I am telling you the truth when I say I have no idea what my father is up to, or what his plans are with your father, Preston.
“Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying. I have just as many questions as you do, but I haven’t been able to find out much information and he keeps me at arm’s length.
“So far, all he has asked me to do is stay out of trouble, make friends with you lot, but, as you know, I haven’t been doing that,” I finish, leaving the room in a deep silence while they absorb my words and the impact of what I am saying.
After a few minutes of silence, Barrett speaks up. “So, the story your father has been telling the town, about how he, you and your mother were a happy loving family until she died and you two moved here for a fresh start, that’s just a load of crap? None of that is true?” He asks, getting more and more worked up.
Snorting at the audacious lie my father has been telling, I have no more words so I just nod in acknowledgement. I feel hollow now, after my confession and having to relive everything that I have been through in the last few months.
“Why haven’t you told anyone before? You could have easily outed his lie by telling people the truth.” Preston demands, unsure of what to think about what I am saying and still trying to catch me in a lie.
“You know as well as I do, that never would have worked. People wouldn’t have believed me, and, if my father caught wind of what I was saying to people, he could have easily made them believe I was mentally unstable after my mother’s death and looking for attention by making up stories.
“I mentioned it once to Thomas, and the look of pity he gave me,” I start, trailing off and shaking my head, “He didn’t believe me and, I knew then, that there was no point in trying to convince anyone else,” I finish.
“Then why are you telling us?” Preston continues to push, but that hollow feeling I had is starting to fill up with rage. I’m angry I’ve had to confront these emotions, to them of all people. They had no right to go prying into my private business.
“Because you assholes kidnapped me and zip tied me to a chair in the back ass of nowhere demanding answers to questions that I don’t know,” I snap at him, my anger rising to the surface.
Barrett intervenes, pulling Preston to the other side of the room so they can have a quiet chat. Except the room isn’t that large so I can hear them anyway.
“-would explain why the background check brought nothing up for their past.” I hear Barrett saying, trying to make sense of everything. Of course, they did a background check on us.
“Man, I think we should believe her. I saw the way she was with her father at the party, and the way he manhandled her. It makes more sense, now that we know what we know,” Barrett insists, trying to convince Preston.
Of course, he told Preston about that. Probably told him about the make-out sessions we had too. Asshole. Whatever mushy feelings I was developing for Barrett are one hundred percent squashed now.
“That could have been staged, Barrett, they could have made you see what they wanted you to -” Preston starts, but his words have just lit a match under the raging inferno inside me.
“Staged?” I snarl out at him, standing up from the chair, not even believing the audacity of this shithead. I stare him down with all the hate and anger and outrage coursing through me.
“That motherfucking psychopath burnt me for getting detention, has manhandled me when I don’t obey his orders and threatened me every time I’ve been in his presence,” I growl out, in a low voice full of vitriol and disgust, “and you think it’s all a fucking show to make you two dimwits think we are in cahoots?” I laugh hysterically, at the absurdity of it all.
“I’m so fucking done with this shit. I’ve told you what I know, now let me fucking go.” I demand, giving them such a menacing look I’m surprised they don’t start whimpering apologies right there.
“He burnt you?” Barrett rumbles in a deep, animal-like tone full of animosity. He completely ignored the rest of my impassioned speech, causing me to roll my eyes.
I give him my best resting bitch face, refusing to explain anything more to these fuckheads.
Preston, completely unmoved by what I have said and clearly having a death wish, starts, “Say we do believe you -” before I interrupt him, literally snarling at his brashness, feeling like a feral animal trapped in a cage right now.
“Oh, well, how mighty nice of you, asshole.” I snap at him, irritated that I’ve made myself vulnerable and he’s throwing it in my face.
Barrett sighs heavily before stepping forward, interrupting my glare at Preston. Instead, I just direct the glare to Barrett. If he wants to put himself in the firing line then, by all means.
In an attempt to maintain peace, he raises his hands in a gesture of submission. “Look, it sounds like we might be of use to each other. From what you have said, you want to know as badly as we do, why your father is here. So perhaps we can help one another out?” He concedes.