The Liability

Chapter 4

Louisa's POV:

It feels like eons have passed in the duration of the time I've spent in this car. I'm becoming more and more at ease, realizing if these gangsters truly wanted me dead they would've killed me point blank. But that doesn't mean I'm safe, or that I will be guaranteed to live.

I almost laugh, because I get the feeling they don't have even the slightest inkling of the fact my dad doesn't give a shit about me. It's not difficult to deduce and understand that they anticipated on the safe my father keeps hidden in his office. But they probably thought, like is true in most situations except mine, that a person is better leverage than a material object.

But this was not most situations, and while I hate to acknowledge it, Freya wasn't wrong, I was not good leverage. But, she doesn't know that, or know why I am not. So for all she can assume, this plan would be better than the safe, if my father cared.

But alas, this wasn't going to get them anything, or anywhere. I just hope they don't realize this anytime soon, because then me being alive becomes a burden, and costly. Especially if I don't pose as an important pawn.

Come to think of it, my father may see this as an opportunity rather than a crisis. Because if he were worried, it'd be because I know just enough to be his downfall. But, for my safety, I need to be careful with what I divulge, and when I divulge. But to my father, he may rejoice in not having to "look at my stupid face" anymore. Or not having to "deal with all my shit." Which I don't even understand. I ask for very little if anything at all. But he doesn't really need a reason to despise me.

Despite all this,

I feel strangely and unnaturally nerve-cited, (nervous and excited). I haven't had anything more eventful than this happen, and I already expected at some point my life would be cut short, so I'm not even entirely fearful of death.

Excited? Are you mental? my conscious screams at me.

I had a bit of training.
My father was always against me training to defend myself. He said I should be home learning how to be a proper woman.

I told him to go to hell, and then he hit me for the first time.
He's abusive... I can see that.

He claims he only hits me when it's necessary, or when I 'make him'. It's complete and utter crap. He didn't want others knowing this, because he didn't need a government agency knocking on his door to take me away, because before doing so, he'd be investigated. So the one thing he got me lots of was makeup.

In training, I met this guy named Antonio and he was great. He taught me how to do things I never thought possible.

Not just kicking and punching... but knife throwing, how to use a gun, how to use pressure points, and I felt like a badass when it came to it. This makes forces me to acknowledge and question why I didn't defend myself more, but I knew, even though I was truly terrified, that anywhere was better than being there.

As the car screeches to a halt  I start to panic, I need to be careful, but it's hard to be careful when you are blind to everything about the situation. I don't know what or how to proceed without any idea of how these people operate.

The door swings open and I felt a pair of hands reach the back of my head.
Presumably, to untie this stupid bandanna, to which I have no idea why I bought, it wasn't even an appealing color. But, my reflexes and instincts panicked before I could even process what was happening so when they leaned their head down to level with mine and untie the headband my head swung back with a great force, coming into contact with another head followed by a hissing curse.

"What the fuck! Why the fuck would you think that was a good idea!?" I hear the man curse out angrily. Feeling embarrassed, and in need to recover, my best bet his to say it was an accident. So that's what I do. "Sorry, reflexes." I say nervously.

"Yeah, I'm sure that was completely accidental" the sarcasm lacing his voice only made me more pissed. Why didn't he believe me! It didn't matter though, it was more wise to just keep my mouth shut.

He unwraps my headband adding a comment,
"Your welcome, by the way, be a good girl and you won't get hurt--" he says.

I cringe at the wording of that. I haven't seen him yet, but that comment was uncomfortable.

I whip around to face him in hopes to come up with a witty retort.

However, I am completely taken aback by him. I can't say I knew what to expect. But of course he had to be handsome, I think rolling my eyes.

As he walks away leaving me there, I question what he's doing. Before I think, my mouth opens and I say something stupid.
"Where you going dumbass!!" I scream out

He stops.
Suddenly I am aware of my yappy mouth's almost comedic horrendous timing.
He starts toward me, like I, prey and he, a predator. I start to walk backwards, attempting to create distance.

But in an instant, he is an inch away breathing down my neck and staring down at me with such a possessive stare that goosebumps prickle my skin in an instantaneous fashion. I look up scared. But just like that he turns around and waltzes back down his original path. Shouting:

"Well, are you coming smartass?"

I bite down on my lip to stop myself from furthering his anger that I seemed to be no help with, and because I was scared. Without realizing how hard I was biting, I start to taste iron, lifting a finger to my lip, I see the blot of blood covering the tip of my finger. Not caring about this, I think on what to do.

Weighing my options, I hesitate, but then start walking in defeat to the massive building stood before me. It was a mansion, beautiful really. But the situation doesn't make this something to rejoice over.