Deck of Cards

Day 25- Ava

King of hearts- looking after the leader for 4hrs

Ava's POV

The king was the perfect advantage for me to go over all the details I needed to tell the girls. If Scarlett had the button, it would mean smooth sailing. If not, it would be survival of the fittest. Run or be caught.

I thought that my father wouldn't want to see me but these previous preconceptions were diminished when I was lead to a very familiar room. My father's study. When I realised where we were going, I had to take some time to compose myself. It had been twenty something days since I had seen his face, since I had believed every lie that spouted from his mouth. It took all my will power not to spit in his dead eyes.

Handcuffed, I was shoved into the room with the demon himself who was sat at his throne like he was so much better than his subjects. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of my pain, of my love. We were not related anymore.

"Sit, dear. We haven't spoken in ages," he said in the voice which had guided me as a girl, which had comforted me in my darkest days. The voice which had placed me in hell.

Knowing that I would be punished for not obliging, regretfully,I took the offer but made no attempt at eye contact. Sighing he took a puff of the cigar in his hand and a sip of his whiskey.

"Darling its for your own good," he said, trying to reason with me but I was having none of it.

"How will this help me?" I spat in his direction which surprised him because I had never spoken in that tone to him. I had been too afraid before. Fear had become a distant memory to me.

"Ava how dare you speak to me in that tone! Apologise!" He shouted at me, his eyebrows knitted together in anger and his face reddening by the second. I won't give in, I told myself over and over again as he stood in front of me like a loaded gun.

My mouth remained shut in a tight line; I was biting my tongue in case I said something dumb which would have me killed. But I let my grip on sanity slip, just watching him sit in so much luxury was enough to make me snap.

"I have nothing to apologise for! You do! You have so much to apologise for you filthy scumbag!" I screamed like a banshee, no longer scared of what punishments would come from my actions.

"There is always a reason my dear, and you are simply bitter! Get over yourself and understand that maybe I am doing this for a purposeful reason," but I didn't believe him, there was a glint of excitement in his eye meaning that everything he was saying was a lie. He was enjoying watching me in pain and the reasons behind his actions were invalid.

"Give me those reasons then," I challenged him, narrowing my eyes. But instead of replying to me he simply stiffened his posture and I could tell that he wasn't expecting me to respond so calmly. He wanted me to be more angry and more irrational which in turn would make me look like the maniac and not him.

Standing up he walked over to the guards who were standing by the door and murmured something. I feared the worst of course but instead of punishing me they just took me away to wash some dishes while the other girls had their turns. I wished that it was a group activity; we could plan and I would have some company. Instead I stood inside a cold, damp room with my arms in freezing water.

It did give me time to think about how to explain to the girls where things were, I would have to use terms they would understand. We were all in a labyrinth of cells, each with their own number. I knew all the numbers and their positions off by heart. As long as they listened they would know where to go and when. The thought of escape brought a smile to my face.

I imagined what it would feel like to run out of the gates and into the free land. They would chase us yes, but we would outrun them. We would hide where they would least expect, we would go where they wouldn't dare because we were desperate. We all longed the freedom which came from the fresh air, which came from the feeling of grass under our feet. It was impossible to say that the cons outweighed the pros. Escape was the best option.

Back in my cell I knew that my time in the game would be shortened depending on what cards were next. If we had another group session then we could plan efficiently but if we had to wait it would threaten our plan. Our health would deteriorate even more and we could slip up. And slip ups meant one thing- death.

The meeting with my father had only made me feel more desperate to escape. I hated the idea of him watching me with his beady eyes, watching me with pleasure. He found enjoyment in pain. Who had hurt him so bad?

But I didn't pity him, not for one second. There is a difference between being mentally disturbed and kidnapping innocent people.