11
TATI
Two months, five days, and four hours since my unfortunate incarceration. At least I’m kind of in minimum security. I get to leave every so often with my own personal bodyguard in tow, which isn’t nearly as interesting as I originally thought it was going to be.
After that first time at the mall, though, I’ve pretty much communicated with Viktor on a need to know basis. As much as I hate to admit it, his blowing up at me was valid. It’s not even the worst part of that encounter. All I keep thinking about is the fact that he never answered my question.
It’s been bothering me since Marla mentioned it. The story that I know is that Nicki, who was a notoriously poor driver, had also been drunk when he crashed his car. I don’t know why I never thought about whether or not Viktor had also been drunk. I suppose I just took it for granted that they both had to be drunk for it to make sense.
And the more I think about it, the stranger it seems. Viktor’s a paragon of restraint. I can’t seem to even picture him beingdrunk in the first place. The worst thing about it is that I can’t seem to decide which is worse, Viktor being drunk while Nicki was sober or the both of them being sober. Either way, it doesn’t add up in my mind.
At least I’ve got a break from Viktor these last few days. I’ve been down with a stomach flu and haven’t exactly been in the mood to leave my bedroom, prison that it is. I’ve been in bed all morning and save the trays of food that have been brought up to my room, I haven’t had any contact with anybody all week.
You’d think a father would check in on his sick daughter. Or maybe see about taking her to the doctor. I don’t even think he’s troubled himself to find out why I’ve been sequestered to my room all this time.
A knock on my door pulls me out of my daydreams, and I lift my head up just as the door creaks open. The first thing I see is Marla’s rainbow colored waves, then her smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I return her smile and sit up. My stomach lurches and I have to swallow to keep the bile from rising. “Dad let you in?”
She nods. “Yup. He was even kind of nice.”
I chuckle. “That’s new. Guess he has actually noticed that I haven’t been out of my room in a few days. Shock of shocks.”
She comes all the way into the room and closes the door behind her. “Still sick, huh?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Can’t really keep much down.”
I notice that she’s carrying a plastic bag. She walks over and sits on the bed and opens the bag. “Brought you some ginger ale and some of that pink medicine.”
“Thanks.” She pulls the contents out, and I take the can of ginger ale and open it. It’s cool and bubbly as it goes down… My stomach is grateful. “So, how goes everything in the outside world?”
She shrugs. “Same as usual.” She pauses, biting her lip thoughtfully. “You know, I spoke to my attorney again.”
I shake my head quickly. “We can talk about that later.” She nods, understanding my meaning. I don’t know if my father has bugged my room, but I can’t take any chances.
“Right. Um. So, what’s it like being under minimum security?”
I snicker. “It sucks. And really, I think this might be worse than it was. I mean, before I had to worry about sneaking in and out. Now, I have a large man over my shoulder at all times every time I go out. You know, I haven’t been to the mall in two months. Not since Viktor lost his shit on me that first time.”
She snickers. “You did ditch him, though. You know your father would probably have his head for losing you in a mall, right?”
I just roll my eyes. She said something to that effect when I first told her what happened. “Yeah, well, now, anytime I ask to go someplace that might be too populated or he could lose sight of me, he vetoes it.”
“Yeah… but youdidditch him, Tati.”
“Okay, okay. I heard you.” I shake my head and sip my ginger ale. “My point is that this is still prison. My leash has just been lengthened a little.”
“You can have company now.”
“That is an upside,” I say with a little laugh. “I swear, if I ever get the chance to, I’m running as far away as I can. Like, all the way to Australia or China or something.” I sip more ginger ale. It really is starting to help. I almost feel like I could get out of bed and get dressed.
“You know the worst part?” I say to her as I set the can of pop on my nightstand. “I never got to get any underwear. I’ve been under lock and key all this time with no bras, no panties. It’s archaic.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Wow. I could never. The chafing must be awful.”
“You have no idea,” I say with a snicker. “I’ve stopped wearing blue jeans and resorted to yoga pants and sweats. And all because my father doesn’t know the first thing about what I actually need. You know, I’ve got, like, no feminine products at all in my bathroom. I don’t know what I’m going to do when my period comes.”
Marla’s frown deepens. “You… haven’t had your period yet?”
