I need him to do something. To say something. To do anything. The thoughts come when it’s silent. The thoughts tell me this is wrong. I’m not supposed to desire the man who killed my mother, and I’m definitely not supposed to desire my father. I’m not supposed to willingly please a man who keeps me in a cage.
I’m only doing this to survive. I just need to live long enough to do this. And I must do this.
I’m not even sure what this is anymore.
“Are you ready for your final test?” he asks.
I nod. A shiver jolts through me. There’s an odd comfort in relinquishing everything to him. And now, I don’t even have a legal name. My entire world revolves around him.
And now, my father finally wants me.
“Get dressed.” He unlocks my restraints, then throws a loose cotton dress on top of me. “We have business to take care of.”
My heart leaps in my throat. I sit up slowly, holding the dress up by one of the strings. Soreness spasms through my limbs, but I get dressed as quickly as I can. Being kept in the same position for most hours of the day has been bad for my muscles, but I need to prove myself to Daddy.
The promise of business—the potential of leaving the asylum with Daddy—excites and terrifies me. I don’t know why he wants me to go with him, but I’m ready to do whatever he wants.
I flatten my hands across the dress. It scratches against my skin. I’m not used to clothes anymore.
Did he keep my clothes? The pill container?
Would I even use the pills now?
This is my chance.
A flicker of doubt waves over me. Leaving the asylum gives the best chance to avenge my mother, and yet the potential seems so far away.
I shake my head. I’m not just his freak. My name is also Violet. I have the poison. Once I find it, I’ll feed it to him. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll get another knife. A gun. I will get my father. I will finish this.
Get him?
Finish what?
It’s like my mind can’t fathom the actual words anymore.
Outside of the facility, Daddy escorts me through the parking lot. Trees sway in the breeze, light pink flowers dust their branches, and their pungent, crisp floral perfume stings my nostrils. I sneeze. I’ve never been sensitive to the seasons; being indoors for so long must have changed me.
“It must be a lot to take in,” Daddy says. He offers his hand, and I take it, letting him guide me. “You must be careful, my love.”
I clench at those words. Sunlight warms my skin. As I glance around, I see regrowth, rebirth. Dandelions crowd the cracks in the cement, some yellow, some with white feathery seeds, and other buds completely closed up, flowers in different phases of their life cycle. One day, they’ll all blow away, seeds carried in the wind to find a home in new soil.
It must be spring.
That means months have passed.
Daddy opens the door of a black sedan. He buckles me into the back seat.
As he drives the car, stale air filters into my nose, and sunlight flashes across the windows. For a split second, I see my reflection: my silhouette is dark, the inside empty and black. If I really studied myself in a mirror, would I recognize myself anymore? Am I really Violet?
Or am I just his freak?
The car idles outside of an apartment complex. I blink rapidly at the brown and white building. I can’t place it. Have I been here before?
“This used to be your home,” Daddy explains. “You lived here with your boyfriend.”
My boyfriend? “You?” I ask.
“No, sweet one. We will never be lovers. That would imply equality and exchange.” He laughs. “This boyfriend was before you met me. He was named Benji.”
