Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,102
are you talking about?”
“Violet said you were starting to remember things. I see it now. It’s in your eyes. You can hide words, but the eyes don’t lie. I always knew you’d come back to me.”
“Violet? When did you…?” The words die on my lips. I don’t have to ask. I can see it on his face.
“Nice girl. Talkative. It seems we had a common enemy in that lover of yours,” he muses, his index finger stroking my cheek. “It was quite an enlightening chat.”
“What did you do to her?” I’m terrified of the truth, but I owe it to her. It doesn’t matter if his hand dealt the final blow. Violet’s death rests on my shoulders.
“I didn’t do anything.” He smiles. “It’s what you did to her. Or don’t you remember?” Cocking his head to the side, he strokes my hair. “How easily the young mind molds…and breaks.”
“No! I’d never hurt her!”
Six. Six. Six.
“Don’t worry, Alexandra. Even when they lock you up, they can’t keep me away.” There’s a darkness in his eyes. Only I’ve never seen it before.
Yes, you have. Look around. Remember.
Rosten’s grip moves from my jaw to my neck, squeezing until I’m gasping for air. A sinister smile pulls at his mouth as he shoves me onto his desk, the back of my head slamming against the wood. “Even in a straightjacket, you’ll still be my special girl.”
Special girl.
The wave comes slowly at first. My chest tightens, the muscles weaving into hundreds of tiny little knots, a futile attempt at blocking out whatever’s trying to get in. This time nothing can stop it. Not static. Not light. Not zigzag lines. The key has turned, and the lock is open.
“I want to go home!”
“Just relax. You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”
“No! I’m scared!”
“Finish your juice, and I’ll make you feel better. There you go. That’s my special girl.”
The scream comes from the back of my throat. A choked gurgle that burns in my chest and fills my mouth with the taste of pennies. The barrier is broken, and truth comes crashing in. I fight it as hard as I can, thrashing against him and the memories filtering through my mind like paint being splattered on a blank canvas.
“No!” I scream. “You’re lying.” The room spins along with my head. The walls are alive, bleeding with the tears of the past. I blink, trying to stay focused. Trying to stay in control, but something keeps dragging me under. “What’s happening to me?” I demand, but my voice sounds thick and full of rocks.
“Shhh,” he whispers, climbing on top of me, his heavy weight crushing me against the unforgiving wood. “It’s all going to be all right. I’ll take care of you.” His lips graze my neck as his free hand reaches for the button on my jeans. “Just like I always have.”
“You killed them both.” The words are as flat and emotionless as they are inconsequential. Whether he admits it or not, when he’s finished with me, I’ll be dead, too. If not by his hand, by my own.
“Not directly,” he grunts, jerking my jeans down and tearing the sash off his robe. “I never get my hands dirty. You should know that.”
I struggle beneath him, but his weight is too heavy. My stomach churns, bile creeping up my throat, but my death won’t be in vain. I won’t slip away quietly. Reaching out, I slap my palm against his desk for leverage. If I can just grasp the edge…
“No! Stop!” I cry.
Tears stream out of the corners of my eyes as a woman with long raven hair grabs my chin and leads me into an elevator. “Tears are a tool not a weakness. You’ll stop this crying right now, Alexandra. We all pay prices in life, darling. Now smile pretty and be quiet. Remember, you’re his special girl.”
As my fingers finally wrap around the desk, I turn my head and vomit, one word on my lips. “Papa!”
I blink, opening my eyes against the harsh light. Everything hurts, and my arm feels like it’s been beat with a sack of bricks. Groaning, I pull myself upright, rubbing my eyes while trying to get my bearings.
Where the hell am I? Everything is black and white and clean. So clean my heels squeak against the marble floor.
Whipping my head around, I take in the black granite island spanning the length of the spotless kitchen and the immaculate white marble floor I’m sitting on.