He looks at me skeptically, "You really want me to teach how to not care?"
"Yes."
"You really want me to teach you how to hurt others and move on?"
"Yes."
"You really want me to teach you how to do terrible things to other people, and not feel bad about it?"
"Yes!" I yell.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll do it."
I cover my smile with a smirk, "Great."
He wrinkles his nose, "We'll work on that to."
I glare at him.
He stands up. "Dinnertime."
I quirk a questioning eyebrow and he rolls his eyes. "Dinner, the last meal of the day? It's time to eat it."
Now it's my turn to roll my eyes, "I know what dinnertime is. I just figured you'd let me starve or feed me in here."
"Why would we do that when we have a nice dining room?" his tone is mocking, but it's not like Ryder's joke-y mocking voice, it's more mean.
I stand up and follow him out of the room. We walk down the hall, with guards in tow.
"Ryder's going to be in the dining room," Ryan states, his smirk seeping through his voice.
"Good, I missed him," I reply bitterly. I don't think it's very obvious, because Ryan gives me a funny look.
The dining room is a brightly light room, with a long table in the center. There's only two people seated at it, Ryder and Mr. Thomas. Plus a ton of guards stationed around the room.
One of the guards leads me to my chair, the head of the table, opposite of Mr. Thomas. Ryder is seated directly on my left, and Ryan is seated at Mr. Thomas' left.
"Nice to see you again, Ms. Johns," Mr. Thomas nods with a overly kind smile.
I reply with a just as fake smile, "Same to you, Mr. Thomas."
He studies me for a moment, then looks down at the plate a woman just set in front of him. "Caesars salad, do you like Caesars salad?" he asks me.
"I do," a plate is set before me, Caesars salad. I pick up my salad fork and move the lettuce around, I don't take a bite nor do I drink the water that was set before I got here. No one comments on the fact that I'm not eating, but I know they know. All three of them have been studying me since I sat down.
Ryan and Mr. Thomas get into a hushed conversation so I turn to Ryder.
"Is your room nice?" he asks, bored.
"It is. Why don't you leave?"
"What?"
"You have the opportunity to leave, I know you do. Why don't you?"
He bites his lip.
"You don't think I can take care of myself."
"It's not exactly that-"
"It exactly is that! You think I need your help to survive."
"No, Princess, I think that you won't get out without me," the nickname sounds harsh, almost as if Ryan said it.
"Isn't that the same thing, Ryder? Let's not kid ourselves, they're going to kill me."
"No they won't."
YOU ARE READING
Thanks to The Boots
Teen Fiction*Spinoff of Black Combat Boots* Brianna Johns, daughter of Dylan and Zach Johns. She's had a somewhat normal life, as normal as your life can be with seventeen cousins, plus one on the way, and two sisters. But with their large family, they've survi...
