Take My Hand

16 With Every Step You Take

There was one thing that became very apparent in the following weeks. I was being punished for refusing, but not so obviously that one might say I was. It was a subtle sort of backstabbing that at first glance I might think was coincidence.

The first was when my phone went missing. I could have put it down somewhere. I was almost positive that I hadn't though. Maybe if I was still high sometimes, I could have brushed it off as a momentary lapse. But Sasha wasn't letting me touch the stuff.

I told him that it was gone. He gave me a look and said he would try to track it down. Not sure how he'd do that if he was still at my side all the time. He never seemed to leave, like a real shadow these days.

He found it, and it was shattered. The case had been removed and both the back and screen were toastatos. Gonza. It was so cracked it might as well be higher than a kite. I was disappointed, but I'd get over it.

It was when I asked for a new phone that I started to realise things were fishy. They said no. Or rather my father just glared at me and walked away without saying anything. That meant no usually.

Sasha came to my rescue that time and reminded my parents that I required a phone to be tracked by the security team and be reminded to keep appointments with him.

I had physiotherapy for my leg three times a week. I had tutoring twice a week. Add on the outings my parents insisted I attend, and I was actually busier than I'd ever been before.

I felt exhausted, but they would still insist on my being there for work dinners. It didn't seem to matter that it was a school day, that I had spent an hour at physio, and then had to dress and go directly to some fancy restaurant to behave like the heir I ostensibly was.

I was annoyed each time they ordered me around lately, because it was usually in the most derogatory way they possibly could. Like talking to wall instead of looking at me, or looking at their phone the whole time.

Or how about sending texts to Sasha and 'conveniently forgetting to tell me' about their plans for me. I actually admit I somewhat missed their abrupt texts or sending the car unexpectedly.

When they took my gaming consoles away though, that was really the last straw. I stood there in disbelief as I looked at the blank space where my television and console racks were once sitting. Blank as in gone. Missing.

"What the hell is going on?" I muttered to myself. I looked over as Sasha came in the room and pointed at the empty wall. "Is this my punishment from you? Because I will totally take it if that is the case, but you usually warn me first."

"No. This was not me." Sasha said with a furrowed brow. He watched me look back at the wall in confusion.

"May I be excused to go ask about this?" I requested politely. Normally this was the time that I would shower after physiotherapy and get into my pajamas to do homework.

"You may." He replied. I took no time in barreling out of the room to find someone to ask. First I asked the security guy out in the hall, but he said he just started his shift. I asked the cleaning staff I ran into, but she said it was gone that morning, and to ask the head butler.

So I went down and asked him. His reply was puzzling. He said that my parents were putting together a games room, like 'Master Christopher' had in his house. They were adamant that it should all be moved down to the new space immediately.

When I went to the room that was designated though, I bit my lip in anger. It was in the beginning stages of being built. You could tell. My things were tarped off to the side as shelving were being built along one wall.