“Maybe.” I chose not to push the conversation.
“Maybe. Maybe you understand all that, now that you’re carrying an unwanted, unloved child.”
I shook my head. For the last week, I’d thought a lot about the idea of a baby. But Wynter was wrong, my child wouldn’t be unloved. It was already loved, and the only thing I didn’t want was for it to be born into this nightmare.
The easiest thing would be death before life, and the happiest thing for me would be to die, too.
“You want the baby?”
A flutter danced in my stomach, my hand moving to soothe the anxiety Wynter caused us both, and it showed her that she held the trump card. I opted for a different approach, reaching out to her in another way.
“Wynter, it doesn’t have to be like this. Help me. We can get you help, too. I’m not asking you to turn on your husband for me. But for your children. Your grandchild.”
“My grandchild of mutual rape.”
I pondered over her words. “What does that even mean?”
“It means you and my own unwanted child abused each other to get it. Woodrow is a minor. Sex with him is a felony.”
“I didn’t want to. . .” I stuttered. “It’s not a crime. The age of consent here is sixteen.” I believed I was right, but I had no proof.
And Wynter said nothing to confirm or deny.
My stomach rumbled, showcasing the hunger I felt.
“Ah, starvation. Don't worry, honey, there's still enough weight on you for you to live a while. Good thing you were chubby to start with. I’m not so sure about the bambino. It’ll be a blessing, you’ll see.”
Before I could react to her bitterness with more ignorance, the basement door opened again.
The sound of music fell into the room—my once favorite song. I was grateful that Wynter didn’t sing along with the echo down here.
The aroma of food cooking pulled my face to the door, the kitchen light raining down on the gloom. My stomach rumbled again, missing even the bland taste of Wynter's meals.
“I'd offer you some, but we both know you never really liked my cooking. And you’re not really all that appreciative when we feed you these days.”
I never realized she noticed the slight abhorrence towards her food. Or, the disgust I tried to hold back as I ate my cold mush from the floor these past few months. Clearly, I wasn’t half the actress she was, because I'd never realized what an awful human being she was.
But she proved it right here.
“Do you like the music? I play it for you, changing how you’ll hear your favorite songs. The guys who delivered you told us how you liked to sing.” Shelaughed until a snort interrupted it.
“Hollywood would love you, Wynter. You're such the actress. I really thought you were nice. I thought you cared. About me. About women like you who’d suffered. You’re a lie.” Those were the last words I said to her before her knees creaked again as she pushed herself up. Her court shoes in my view, carrying her away.
She stopped at the stairs as loud feet padded the slats, bringing the man I hated most in the world closer to me.
“Probably true. They love a blonde bombshell. I’m a wasted talent. But there is much more money in what we do.”
I didn’t have a chance to say another word. It didn’t matter; I had nothing to say. I didn’t care to know what my body would be worth when I stopped breathing. Obviously, it was enough to purchase another unfortunate soul and prep it for the devil’s taking.
“How about we swap? One brat for another.” Ville laughed, and his question etched a more vicious scowl onto Wynter's lips, as if the idea of Nessie drained her more than anything.
Moments later, she was gone, taking the light with her as she closed the door.
The blaze at the end of Ville’s cigar was the only light in the room, and it cast his face in the most heinous looking shadows. The kind that looked like they truly belonged on him.
“You'll have to excuse my wife,” he told me, bringing the cigar to and from his lips as he talked. “She tires of house guests.”
I looked away from him. I had questions, but the memory of the beatings and abuse I received last week was too fresh and the pains still too agonizing for me to press for answers he wouldn't give.
