Taking Light {Sequel: "For Love of Evil"}

-24-

Lyra had flipped the crib on it's side, using the furniture as a step ladder to the small window in the corner, high on the wall. She wasn't sure why it was even there—perhaps to let in a little sunlight.

She wasn't sure why she was trying to break the glass. Once she broke the window... then what? She was too big to pass through it, and even if she were small enough, she'd more than likely fall to her death—maybe break some bones.

Lyra was doing anything to break the claustrophobia. If it meant breaking the small window to hear the whistle of the wind, then so be it. She could hear her own breaths in the confines of the room; if she listened close enough, she could swear she heard her own heartbeat. The deafening silence was driving her mad—in only three hours time, she had declared herself insane.

She couldn't believe Roman had locked her away like some kind of animal—caged, left with no food or water. This was Roman-cruelty at it's finest.

She could live with Roman's passive aggressiveness, his selfish, self-centered ways, but this was taking things to a whole new level. Lyra couldn't see herself forgiving him for this—if only he would just listen to her.

She saw headlights coming up the driveway through the small window; her heart raced with anger and excitement. To know she would soon be freed from this isolated hell.

Lyra hopped down from the crib, rushing to set it up right. She didn't want Roman to have the privilege of knowing he had the power to drive her insane. It would be just one more thing Roman had the upper hand on. She raced out of the room, standing at the door, waiting for Roman to open it.

He would open it, right? Surely to God, he wouldn't make her stay in there all night. No food, no water, no toilet and no bed. Did he expect her to sleep in the crib, or in the floor? No, she didn't think so.

She shook with rage, her fists balled at her sides just waiting for Roman to open the door. She wasn't sure exactly what she would do, but knew she was going to make him pay for locking her away like some prisoner.

The seal broke, causing sound (other than her own breathing) to be heard. The containment of her bubbling rage broke the moment the door came open.

Roman stood on the other side, his large pale eyes wide and filled with worry.

No....

Panic.

Lyra didn't think, she acted. She lunged forward, her balled fists no longer as she wrapped them tightly around Roman's neck, squeezing with all her might. She wanted to kill him—fuck, she was trying to kill him.

"Lock me in a room!... You're sick! You're fucking sick!" She screamed, pushing him backwards with her hands clasped tightly around his throat. Roman didn't retaliate as he let Lyra have her moment; his back slamming against the banister of the staircase with his hands raised in defeat.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Peter yelled, snaking his arms around Lyra's waist, pulling her away from Roman. "Hey... calm down."

Lyra jerked out of Peter's grasp, pushing his hands away from her waist. "Calm down? Are you fucking serious? He locked me in there. People treat their pets with more dignity than what he did to me." Lyra was hyperventilating, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Is that what I am to you?... A fucking pet?"

She stared daggers at Roman as he regained his composure. He straightened out his sweater before sleeking his hair back, folding his arms over his chest.

She could see everything. The anger she had for Roman had broken a barrier; she had caught a glimpse of their night without having to pry for it. But Lyra didn't care—Roman had gone too far.