Rage

Chapter 3

     "You wanted to see me?" Mila asked, coldly, the door closing slowly behind her.
     "Indeed." Dr. Byers replied. "Take a seat, Milani." He gestured towards the empty chair on the other side of his black desk.
     She walked up to his minimalist black desk, a petite yellow teacup placed in the center that seemed out of place, with the matching black seats and plopped into a seat, still glaring at him, refusing to break eye contact. "Let me go."
     "No can do, sweetheart." He pulled back his large padded chair, grunting as he sat down like an old man..
     Mila continued to glare at him, a stone cold expression on her face, but yet it didn't intimidate him one bit. Dr, Byers didn't budge. "Then what do you want now?"
     "Now, now. Is that any way to talk to your own father—"
     "You are not my father! You never were! Fathers don't stick their daughters with needles, hide their mothers death for 10 years, and then give me jewelry thinking it'll make everything better!" Mila cut him off.
     "I did it for science, Mila!" He raised his voice. "You were born with an incredible gift, it must be used for good!"
     "You think this is good?! You think this is worth your stupid science experiment?!" She barked, revealing her arms that were severely bruised in all the areas they stuck her with needles. "I was eight! I was just a kid! How could you?!"
     He paused, taking a breath, as if he was seriously contemplating the answer to that question. He looked at her, then at her bruised arms, then back at her. "Yes." Byers said simply. "It is worth it, you know why? With your abilities, we can make so much off of what Mother Nature has to offer mankind. You see, I'm talking about the prospecting business, Mila. With the help of your abilities, we can make millions off of these minerals, but first, we have to get you to your full potential."
     Mila was left speechless, but it was no surprise to her. She always knew her father had no remorse for his own children. However, using her as a slave to make rocks just so he can sell them to the wealthy?
     "Is that all I'm good for? Making you rocks?" She asked, sarcastically. Her blood began to boil, she slowly began trembling with anger as her face began to get hot.
"They're not just rocks, Mila. They're crystals. Rare crystals."
     "I don't care. I'm not going to be your slave."
     They both sat there and paused, eyes locked, not saying a word. She eventually broke
eye contact and looked down at her feet. "I'm afraid you don't have a choice."
     "I'm afraid I do. I'm 18, remember?"
     "That doesn't mean anything here. We're in the middle of nowhere, if you've forgotten." She gripped the edges of her seat, knuckles turning white. "I'm going to fucking kill you."
     Mila whispered, slowly looking up at him.
     Dr.Byers smirked slightly. "I wouldn't try anything." He raised his small yellow cup of tea up to his lips, taking a cautious sip and making unintentional slurping noises. Mila watched in utter annoyance, fixating on the comically small teacup for a large man, hoping he would choke on it. To her surprise, Dr. Byers did, in fact, start to choke on his tea.
     That's what he gets for slurping.
     "Whew," he said, clearing his throat. "Went down the wrong pipe."
     Mila smiled softly. "Good." Anything bad that happens to this man is good in her eyes because that's all he is: bad.
     "Now, why did you want to see me?" She demanded.
     He gently put down his yellow teacup on its matching yellow saucer and intertwined his fingers. Byers took a long, deep breath. "We need to talk about your mother."
     "What about her?" She replied, remembering how he kept her death from her for 10 years. Her heart ached, all this time she thought she walked out on them because of Mila, but in reality, she was dead.
     "About her death. . ."
     Mila's grip from the chair suddenly loosened.
     Closure.
     Her questions were finally answered.
     "You were 8 years old. You and your mother were inseparable." Byers said. "It was a
Saturday night, your mom and I had a couple drinks, we were playing music, and having a good time in the backyard. You were playing with the kids from the neighborhood in the driveway and out of nowhere you guys started a fight. All I could hear was you guys arguing over each other, so your mother and I go to check it out and we find you on top of one of the kids punching him repeatedly. Your mother went to pull you off of him but you wouldn't budge. I have never seen a child so angry. . ." His voice trailed. Byers took another sip from his teacup to lubricate his throat. He took a shaky breath and continued. "She tried to pull you off again but you screamed 'get off' and. . ." his voice cracked, ". . .you sent a tree branch right through her chest in front of the other kids." A tear fell down his cheek and he wiped it quickly. "All I could hear was the kids screaming and my own screams. All the blood. . . and you. You just stood there, staring at her body and then sobbing and wailing."
     Mila's heart dropped. Her face went pale and her eyes widened with realization. "I killed her. . ."
     Dr. Byers took another deep breath.
     "Why don't I remember this?" She asked, looking at him desperately for answers. Her eyes were glassy and filled with confusion.
     "I thought it was too much for your conscience and didn't want you growing up with it floating over your head, so I erased your memory. I made you believe that she walked out on us to protect you from all the pain. All the pain that you caused."
     Mila's eyes widened. All this time, everything he told her about her mother has been false. She was in disbelief. She killed her. "You made me think she didn't love me anymore." She just paused in shock, bathing in cold realization. "You fucking ASSHOLE!" She screamed, swiftly getting up and grabbing a handful of his salt and pepper hair on the back of his head, slamming his face on the desk twice, hard enough to break his nose and cause it to start gushing out blood. "Why didn't you tell me?!"
     He spit out blood that seeped into his mouth. "Because I didn't want it to affect the experiment's outcome." Byers slowly moved his hand under the desk and pressed his hidden panic button.
     Mila slapped him right across his face. She let out a distressed sob. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
     Dr. Byers moaned and groaned, his cheek stinging from the slap.
     "I hate you!" Mila said through her teeth, eyes welling with tears.
     "I'm not the one who killed my wife. You should hate yourself." Dr. Byers scoffed.   Before Mila had a chance to hurt him, security guards burst through the doors of his office, flooding into the room, grabbing Mila and pulling her off of the doctor with ease. She kicked her legs and bit their hands to let her go. The guards let her go but she was captured by even more surrounding guards that were on standby. "Let me go!"
     "Get her out of here." Dr. Byers ordered.
     The guards began dragging her out of the room. "No! Get off of me!" Mila exclaimed, as she wiggled and twisted her body as much as she could but with no avail. They dragged her out of the room slamming the door behind them.
...
     Mila lay on the cold cement ground of her cell, numerous thoughts racing through her mind at a thousand miles per hour. She's successfully pissed off Dr. Byers so much that he confiscated her bed, pillow, and blankets to ensure she is the most uncomfortable. He genuinely doesn't care what happens to her.
     She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she had killed her own mother. Why hadn't he told her sooner?
     She hasn't been able to get some sleep and has been sobbing all night. Mila shivered. She tried hugging herself to try and stay warm but nothing seemed to
work. She was still freezing cold. Goosebumps forming on her skin. I have to get out of here...