The Getaway

CH. 3 Intervention? Fuck that.

"First off, I'm not trying to negotiate," Lucas deadpanned through narrowed eyes. "This is my house, and I decide the rules from here out."

I scoffed a laugh at Lucas, now turning to look at Lance and Chase, "You guys aren't actually gonna let him do this, right?" I asked, knowing the two of them had all say in decisions.

Lance stared back at me, pressing his lips into a thin line as he sighed, "Violet, you really don't understand this, do you?" He asked.

I scoffed a laugh, "Of course I don't!" I retorted in frustration, "Everything's been fine, and suddenly he shows up and life gets flipped around?" I raise my hands up in exclamation, "When did we decide I needed rules," I snarled in disgust, "When did we decide we needed him."

Flynn began tapping his foot impatiently, rubbing his temples. He then looked in my direction, but kept his eyes up to our ceiling—unable to look at me, "Violet this is a little more than just new rules..."

I scrunched my nose up.

What does he mean more than just rules? This couldn't be an-...

"Intervention," I spat the word out of my mouth, looking at everyone in disbelief, "You've got to be kidding me. A fucking intervention? Please tell me you're not holding me hostage down here for a fucking intervention," I said in denial.

Nobody spoke, and I soon realized that an intervention might be exactly what this is.

I looked at all of them with wide eyes, recognizing the undeniable look of, what was it? Guilt?

My breath started picking up as I now became well-aware of my surroundings; The lock on our back door that's almost always open from the inside, was shut. And the key that had always remained in the lock, was no where to be found. The room was dim, as the glass windows all had their blinds lowered.

I was trapped.

I gnawed at my lips nervously, "Damn, well if I didn't know any better, I'd think y'all were trying to murder me," I said awkwardly, trying to de-escalate my burning anxiety.

I could feel my hands begin to grow clammy.

Lucas smirked over at me, all-too-well recognizing my fear.

I stared back at him with a glare, a deep resentment evident within my eyes.

Lucas chuckled at my expression, finally being the first to speak, "Well, metaphorically speaking; we're trying to kill off a part of you."

I narrowed my eyes, my heart thumping in my ears.

What'd he mean by that?

With this, Lucas got up from his seat at the head of the table to walk over to where Chase sat. He placed both of his hands on his shoulders, looking up to me with his lips pressed into a thin line as if he knew something I didn't.

Chase's head hung low in defeat.

My lips slowly parted, now realizing what this could be.

Did he know my secret?

No. He couldn't know.