CHAPTER 10
SAM
Evelyn hands me a cup of tea, but I am unsure. I look at Evelyn questioningly and she rolls her eyes. She takes a sip of her own tea. When she finishes, she sets the cup back onto her mahogany desk.
"Please, I wouldn't poison you," she says as if it were obvious.
"But would you kill me in other ways?" I ask. Evelyn sniggers.
"It depends how much use you are to me," she flashes her mischievous grin that is all too similar to my own. I hate that. I hate that she is right. She is right about her and I being alike. She is right about everything, always several moves ahead. Evelyn knows my distaste for her, and she continues.
"Who knows? You may just grow up to be like me," she cunningly smiles. I can't stand it anymore. In a flash, I jump across the desk, and I begin to choke her, my small thumbs pressing deep into her throat. My fingers become entangled in her long black hair. Her face is turning red while the guards that brought me up here drag me back. I fight hard now, hitting and kicking anything and everything that I can reach. Finally, the two guards manage to pin me to the wall.
"You really should watch that temper of yours," Evelyn says, rubbing her neck. She leans in close to my face, and the guards tighten their grip on me. I consider biting that snobbish nose of hers, and laugh as I imagine her nose swollen and red.
And I realize something. I am not the same person that I used to be. Was it not just days ago that people told me I needed to grow an assertive side? Now I am temperamental and aggressive.
Now I know I am not like Evelyn, in some ways. Evelyn is cold, emotionless, almost mechanical. She is logic-based, and thinks ahead. I may have used to be even more like her, but not anymore.
"I'm a monster," I whisper, and my head drops. My shoulders slouch for the first time in a long time, and I become quiet. I know not to cry though; tears would be ineffective.
"Send Sam to her room," Evelyn says, "Rose, you will stay with me." The woman limps away from me, and stands next to Evelyn. I kicked her pretty hard, and there's a slight swelling under her pant leg that shows. I can finally feel my arm; she was cutting off my blood circulation.
The boy walks me into the hallway. These halls are more well-lit than the previous ones. In the light I can see that although he shares many qualities with Billy, they look almost nothing alike. The guard is tall, but now I am not so sure that he is taller than Billy. His blue eyes are much darker than Billy's; they are like the color of denim jeans. His dark brown hair is kept a bit longer than Billy's as well, as it flips over his ears a tiny bit.
"Are you out of your mind?" the boy asks. His thick voice has a light Southern twang to it; much unlike Billy's heavy drawl. "Evelyn's sure to kill you now." We make a left around a white wall. He sounds, almost, like he is afraid of Evelyn, but it is obvious as to why. He opens a door.
"Try to contain yourself," he warns me. It sounds more like he is reprimanding me, though.
"I usually can," I say as he closes the door. The room is large and square, with white walls. I'd estimate about 100 square feet of space. To the left is a queen-sized bed with white sheets, and a mahogany nightstand. The nightstand has a white lamp sitting upon it. To the right, an ebony desk faces a small window. The black-framed window gazes upon the well-groomed front lawn. Black and white. Lovely example of how Evelyn sees things.
As I walk to the desk, I see a piece of paper. A note. I read it.
FROM THE DESK OF EVELYN PRIDDAM:
