I breathe out slowly. This day was going to come eventually. I believe that. What do I do?
I pace. Shit. Damn it.
Is he going to come for my son? If he does...I glance at the kitchen. If he does...I can't let him.
I can't let him find out Harrison even exists.
I feel like I'm suffocating. I can't get enough air in my lungs.
I finally notice. It's quiet. I peek out my window. They're gone.
I scramble to the kitchen, grabbing the biggest knife I have. My heart is pounding in my ears. I check the peep hole. I turn my back to the door, sliding down it.
"I know you hear me, child. Open."
I shake my head frantically. "I won't," I whisper to myself. "I won't."
"Don't cause more shame than you already have. Open."
I was free. The world was mine.
No it wasn't.
I stand, opening the door. "How did even get here that fast?" I ask.
He sneers, stepping past me.
I swallow. "You might as well leave."
He looks over my apartment. I control my face.
"Put that thing away," he stares down at me. The disgust. I smile.
He glares. I fight not to flinch. "Get out," I order him.
"Stupid child. Why would you open the door to tell me to get out. As usual, your head is empty. But I see your legs have been spread."
I won't flinch.
"You have no power over me. Leave here."
He steps toward me. "Or what? You'll assassinate me? That won't go ever well, not even on American soil."
"If I have to. If you make me. Or you could walk out, and we could forget we ever saw each other. I'll stay in the ground. And you can stay the hell away from me."
He chuckled. "You really think it'll be that easy? Why have an empty grave, when you could very well fill it. I don't appreciate wasting my money. You already wasted my time."
I swallow. "Then don't waste anymore—"
"You are not in control. Wretched girl!" He raises his hand. I look at it.
"If you touch me, I'm going to plunge this knife into your skin. And I won't stop."
He scoffs. "I knew I should've shoved your mother down the stairs when she was pregnant with you. A mistake I never made again."
I smirk. "Right. I'm glad. As evil as you are...it's best no one else is subjected to your horrors, you bastard."
He cocks his head. "You feel very safe here don't you? And if I call and have you brought back? Locked up for the rest of your life—"
I raise the knife walking toward him. "Pick up the phone. You're 70. I'm 22. I'll get there faster. It's a promise. Your health failed. I was so happy to see you, but you had an accident. The shock sent your heart into over drive."
He frowns ever so slightly.
"Don't you hear yourself? You don't expect that I didn't learn anything from you did you?" I keep walking forward. "Or I could stab myself. You did bury me. But does it make sense that a Prime minster can't find his daughter when she's right across the ocean with her same name?"
He steps back. "Maybe a few servants step forward and tell what they saw. Maybe mother takes the stand. Maybe, you feel more shame than you can live with—"
"Would you like to try? Or would you like to go home? It's up to you?"
He scoffs. "You've been a mistake from the beginning. Do me a favor child: stop existing. It's disappointing, your every breath."
I take a deep one. "I happen to enjoy disappointing narcissists."
He walks out.
"You don't even exist to me," I tell him.
He pause. "what?"
I smile. It's the worst thing to a narcissist. To not be important. It's why I started saying it.
"You don't even exist," I shut the door in his face.
But it isn't over. He feels he hasn't won. And he won't let that stand.
What did I do? I didn't ask to be born. What did I do to deserve this? He hates me. He's always hated me.
He hated me...
And he hated me...
And he hated me...
And then he took everything from me. He ate it all. And he loves how it tastes. He swallowed everything. All my emotions. All my dreams and hopes. Everything I could've been.
I want to cry right now I think. I think it would cleanse my soul, all the foulness in it.
But I can't. So I'll just smile.