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C h a p t e r F i v e »»————> A l l i s f a i r i n S t a r s & T r u s t <————«« Ryder Capra
"You know I can't do that...'' I match her quiet tone. Her body shakes with each sob. Her pleas normally would piss me off, and without my medication, probably would have led me to violence, but now, I feel each one of her sniffles and sobs in my chest.
It eats away at the flesh and bones that make up my body. I want to shrivel away like a dying leaf, kneeling before her, on her knees, her back slouched over, hair long hair hiding her broken face.
"Why?" She lifts her head, our eyes meet. Her's are red, puffy, and sunken. She looks horrible... not in a way of her being ugly. She is gorgeous, in an unhealthy, sickly way. A work of art even. Some dark moody art that if I could still live in my New York City pent house, I would hang in the wall above my bed and prize it as my best possession. Show everyone I could, anyone who had eyes that could see. She would be my art.
"I won't tell the police! I won't go to anyone! I swear," Tears flow down her face. It's not the police stopping me, but she doesn't know that. My father being an insanely good lawyer publicly will just turn the heads of the department and blame it on mentally illness, write a fiction story of her hallucinations troubling her after her mother was killed in front of her.
That reminder burns my throat, hot and heavy. Her mother. That evil bitch.
She sniffles again, dragging my thoughts back for her. Truth be told; I want to let her go, I can't. I cannot fail my father on this. He has worked so many years, mapping out and toying with her life. She is just a small pawn in our game.
Our bait. If she weren't that I would've been instructed to kill her by now. It was our original plan, send a finger of hers, wearing her signature ring, or maybe a braid of her hair, a breast, foot, kidney, we even considered her face. But I'm starting to be very glad we resorted to keeping her alive and drawing him to us instead.
He must die.
"If we switched places, you wouldn't let you go either," I hold the back of her head in my palm. She leans into it, and my stomach twitches almost. I clear my throat and shake it off. Weird.
"If we switched places, I wouldn't have gotten kidnapped," She sniffles. She may think she has a fair point, but she would've been kidnapped. Or someone in her place at the least. You don't just wake up one day and decide to kidnap someone.
"Maybe..." She doesn't know the things I know. She hasn't seen the things I've seen. She doesn't know.
"Can I at least look at the stars?" She wipes tears from her eyes. Her eyes are still red but the puffiness goes down.
"I don't know if I can trust you yet," I say, which is the truth. Logically, if she saw the outside, I know she wouldn't run, she would be overwhelmed by the amount of trees that surrounded my home. She is full of surprises though, but she would inevitably die of starvation or a bear in weeks, and she is smart and would know that.
