Mark pushed up his spectacles, lowered himself to the sofa, and balanced a notepad on his thighs with his legs crossed while I sat beside her. She looked at me.
“It’s okay, love. Tell him your name.”
“Cinderella.”
If he was surprised, Mark didn’t show it. “That’s a pretty name. Who gave it to you.”
“Mama did.” She fidgeted with the pink ribbon tied around her wrist.
“Where’s your Mama, Cinderella?”
She shrugged. “He said he would bring her back if I were his perfect kitten. He didn’t.” Her chest rose and fell quickly, reminding me of the evening she broke the mirror.
“What’s his name?” Mark asked, scribbling on his notepad.
“Master.”
“Do you know why Master kept you in that room?”
She stared at him, her brow pinching, then looked at me before shifting her gaze back to him. “When someone hurts the person they’re supposed to love, without a valid reason, it’s because he’s afraid of rejection or detachment from his loved one. He thinks by hurting her, she’ll love him unconditionally, give him the attention he seeks and accept why he does what he does, which makes him feel secure in that relationship. He locked me up because it madehimfeel safe.”
Mark’s astonishment matched mine perfectly. He took a second to make notes, and when he lifted his gaze to her, I could’ve sworn he was impressed. Because I certainly was.
“Why did you break the mirror in the bathroom?” he asked.
“She needed to go back to Master.”
Mark rubbed his pencil tip along his bottom lip as though he were thinking. “Who?”
“The girl in the mirror.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s his, not me,” she shouted, startling Mark and me.
My recovery was quicker. I took her hand and placed it over my chest. “It’s okay, love. Breathe. You’re safe,” I whispered. She closed her eyes for a minute. With a hand in front of my throat, I gestured the universal ‘cut it’ signal to Mark. He raised two fingers which I assumed meant he had two more questions.
“Do you miss your Mama,” he asked soothingly.
Cinder opened her eyes and moved her hand from my chest to her lap. “I do. Even though I remained within the green walls of purgatory, I hoped her last breath took her to heaven. But I know she’s not there.”
“Why?”
She rubbed her brow lightly. “Because I didn’t feel her goodnight kiss here before she left.” Her sad expression tugged at my heartstrings. I hoped for her sake, her mother was still alive.
“Do you miss your Master, Cinderella?”
I frowned at his question, and he nodded, which I took to mean I should trust his questioning.
She fingered the ribbon again, then spoke with her eyes downcast. “Aristotle wrote: ‘For the lesser evil can be seen in comparison with the greater evil as a good, since this lesser evil is preferable to the greater one, and whatever preferable is good.’”
Mark’s wide-eyed stare once more matched my shock. “If your only choice was between two depraved options, choose the least immoral one,” he said, almost like he was explaining her words to himself.
“Yes,” she replied. “I picked Master.”
After another five minutes of simple questions, I kissed her brow and walked Mark out of her room. “What do you think?” I asked as we descended the stairs to Juliette coming down the passage from the living room.
“By first impression alone, I agree with Juliette. That girl’s been through a traumatic past. From the few questions she answered, she’ll never trust quickly, nor is she likely to reveal anything anytime soon. Watching her reaction, Xavier, she’s attached herself to you. It’s not an unusual occurrence with abused victims. They either feel isolated, anxious, or afraid. Some feel ashamed, embarrassed and blame themselves. They don’t trust easily, become destructive, or experience outbursts of anger.” Mark looked from me to Juliette. “I’m surprised she allowed you near.”
