The Story Of An Anonymous Girl ✔

Chapter 24

MIA

My ankles still hurt. Not as bad as before, but they still do. I hear footsteps and voices coming towards the house.

"Fine. Bye." Oliver says.

"Bye. Drive safe." Leo replies.

Leo steps inside and asks me, "So, Grace, wanna tell me about that pocket knife?" He asks me.

I feel intimidated momentarily, but I reply confidently and calmly, masking my fear, "It's for my self-defence."

"You live in Coconut Grove, right?" He asks.

"Yes, I do." I verify.

"It's the safest neighbourhood in Miami, isn't it? So, then why do you need it?" He questions.

"Yeah, it is, but I don't stay in Coconut Grove all the time, right? What if I get kidnapped by someone like Roberto? It would be helpful in a situation like that, wouldn't it? You, or Oliver, can't be my knight in shining armour always, can you? " I reply, slightly irritated. He is interrogating me like I am a serial killer.

"Yeah. That's possible." He says, stroking his chin in deep thought.

"Finished with the interrogation, now?" I ask, more annoyed now.

"One last question. Where'd you learn to grip it like that?" He asks, and I return, "YouTube."

"Okay." He says and adds, "Want to go home now?"

"Yeah. Where did Oliver go?" I inquire.

"About Oliver, Noah had called him asking to come to the frat house immediately. He asked me to take you to his place. Let me see if he is back at his place." He states and takes his phone out, and starts to press some buttons.

"Um, okay. Let me wear my sneakers till then." I declare.

"I wouldn't really recommend that. It's going to make the pain worse." He says.

"Well, I can't really walk without them." I reply, annoyed.

He just stares at me.

"No way. You are not carrying me." I yell, jumping up from the couch. My ankles hurt, and I screech.

"Still want to walk?" He asks rhetorically.

"Ugh. Fine." I reply unwillingly.

He picks me up in bridal style, effortlessly like he would a feather.

"Open the door." He says, his voice dominant and commanding. No one would dare disobey him, and if they did, they would find their heads on the floor.

I open the door and ask him, "Do you talk to your daughter as well in that tone?"

"Now, why would I do that? She is my daughter. Not some stranger who I just saved." He replies, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, I am perfectly capable of saving myself. I didn't ask you to come. Roberto would've been dead even if you didn't come." I state, my voice laced with rage and fury.

"I know that." He replies stoically.

"And, I thought we were at least friends." I say playfully.

"Nope. Friends don't lie to each other." His tone dominant, once again.

"When did I lie?" I question.

"When I asked you about the knife." He replies without making eye contact.

"I did not." I state.

"Yes, you did."

"Did not."

"Did."

"Did not." I reiterate.

"Did."

"Did not."

"Did."

"Fine. I lied." I say, giving up on lying.

"I knew that already. I instantly perceived it when you were telling me. You masked your fear with confidence when I asked you. I didn't force you to tell the truth before because Oliver was listening to us."

"What? You told him that I have a pocket knife?! How was he listening to us?"

"Yes, I told him. He is your best friend. He was on a call with me, so he heard all of what you said. He is not on a call with me right now." He says, whipping his phone out of his pants' pocket and showing it to me.

"So, Grace, tell me the truth, now. Whatever you tell me in the car will remain completely confidential. You have my word."

I burst out giggling when I hear the last sentence because the first thing that comes to my mind is Elijah saying that to Elena in The Vampire Diaries.

"What's so funny about whatever I said?" He asks gravely.

"Sorry about that. Have you seen The Vampire Diaries?" I say, controlling my laughter.

"What's that?" He inquires curiously.

"Have you been living under a rock?"

"Depends on how you ask me that. Literally, yes. Figuratively, no." He replies, and my eyes widen.

"How were you literally living under a rock?" I demand.

"Because I was hiding in the basement of the American Mafia's warehouse for three months. This is the first time I've been outside." He states.

"What were you doing in the basement of the American Mafia's warehouse for three months? Aren't you a part of the Italian mafia?" I ask.

"It's a long story. Now, tell me honestly as to why you have that pocket knife with you." He demands.

"Well, whatever I told you was the partial truth. It is for my own protection. My mom got it for me when my own father tried to sexually assault me in Year 5. She got me some classes as well for self-defence. Happy, now?" I return.

"Why do I have the feeling that there is some backstory to all of this?"

"There is a gigantic backstory to it. I just don't like talking about it."

"Okay." He says, surprising me.

I ask, "I didn't expect you to finish your inquisition just like that."

"Why not? You told me enough. If you don't like to talk about it, then obviously, it's something traumatising, and I wouldn't want you to bawl your eyes out in my car. Oliver would kill me if I made his one and only best friend cry. May I ask you one last question?"

He doesn't even have the slightest notion of how traumatising it was. Seeing my mother getting beaten and ravished every single day by different men because of him. Watching him come stumbling inside drunk and high. Wishing that he won't return home so that I can sleep peacefully for one night.

"Go ahead." I reply, sighing.

"Does Oliver know that your father tried sexually assault you?"

"No. Nobody knows that I live with my stepfather and mother. Everyone thinks that I live with my mother and father. Except for some people in Winnipeg."

"Okay. You can sleep if you want to. Do your ankles and wrists still hurt?"

"No. They don't hurt as much now."

"Fine. Sleep. I'll wake you up when we reach Oliver's house."