Dancing with a stranger

Chapter|12✨

It's been a few weeks now, and Steele and I were supposed to meet up with his dad soon. If I left the house, I had to text him where I was going. They want a wedding soon, but not too soon-they're aiming for this coming October. Which, honestly, feels pretty soon.

I still haven't seen Kian since that day. Grace and I text here and there, but that's about it.

My phone buzzed, and I saw my father's name on the screen.

"Good morning, Father. What can I do for you?" I answered.

"Sweetheart, I need you to run an errand for me. It's at the abandoned mattress plant on the other side of the line."

"All right then. Am I picking up or dropping off this time?"

"You'll pick up the bag, bring it with you, and leave immediately after. No delays."

I understood. "Got it," I said, then hung up.

I got into the car, feeling a knot of nerves in my stomach. Crossing this side of town always made me uneasy. It was run down and isolated, not a place I ever liked lingering.

I decided to park a little ways down the street, just in case someone else was hanging around, snooping or graffitiing the place, like some of the local kids liked to do. The mattress plant was a shell of its former self-cracked windows and peeling paint everywhere. I approached cautiously, noticing a broken window. I carefully climbed through it and entered the building, scanning the room. In the center of the room, I saw the bag my father mentioned. But where was the phone?

As I reached for the bag, I heard footsteps approaching. Before I could react, something hit me in the back of the head, and everything went black.

When I woke up, I was strapped to a chair. My arms were bound tightly with rope, my hands immobilized. The room was dimly lit, and there were men standing in the corners. Two women were there as well, staring at me.

A woman in a red satin dress stepped forward. Her face was obscured by shadows, but something about her seemed familiar. As she came closer, I realized who it was.

"Well, hello, my dear," she said, her voice silky, but cold. The nails of her freshly manicured hand dragged along my cheek.

"Do you remember me?" she asked, her lips curling into a small smile. "Maybe you know me as Melinda, or perhaps as Leanne? Or perhaps you'll remember me better as your mother?"

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. "What?" I breathed, confused and horrified. "Why are you doing this? I thought you were dead. We had your funeral."

She stopped near the door, turning back to look at me. "Oh, sweet child, if only you knew. Let's start at the beginning."

"You didn't think I was going to let your father run everything and keep all the money, did you?" She laughed, a low, dark sound. "You were no use to me, but your brother-he's the one who was going to take over after your father. I faked my death, with your brother's help. We've been planning this for a while."

I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all. "No. You can't just walk away from here! My father, who you-who we thought you loved-he'll wonder where his daughter is. Or Steele! He'll-"

"Steele?" she interrupted, her smile widening. "Oh, he seems like such a nice young man. Maybe I should pay him a visit, too."

"No! Don't you dare think about it!" I screamed, panicked. "Let me go! You're not my mother anymore. You made everyone think you were dead!"

She smirked. "No can do, sweetheart. I need you here, where I can use you to get to your father. Take her to her room."

With a snap of her fingers, one of the men untied me from the chair.

They led me down a hallway and into a room with no windows. It was well-furnished, almost too perfect, like they were trying to make it look comfortable. There was a bed with a TV mounted on the wall. The bathroom was connected, but the door was locked from the outside.

I was alone now, with no way to communicate. They had taken my phone.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to process everything. My father was on the news, accusing the Phantoms gang of kidnapping me. It had been two days since the report aired.

I turned off the TV, unable to watch anymore. I just needed to think, to breathe.

Then, I heard the doorknob jolt. The door swung open, and my mother walked in, carrying a bag. She tossed it onto the bed without a word.

"These are clean clothes," she said coldly. "I can't let your father believe that I haven't been looking after you."

With that, she turned and walked out, locking the door behind her.

I opened the bag and found some of my clothes-my clothes, but not from this room. I couldn't help but wonder how she had gotten them. There was a peach-colored crop top and some pajama pants. I changed into them, feeling the fabric against my skin as I stepped into the bathroom.

The hot shower was a small comfort. The warm water ran over me as I closed my eyes, trying to forget where I was. For a moment, I pretended I was somewhere else, anywhere but here.

But then the tears came. Silent and hot, as the steam of the shower fogged up the mirrors around me.