Uncovering You 3: Resistance (8 page)

Immediately, I see that her eyes are red and puffy, like she’s been crying.

Alarm rises up inside of me.
What’s going on?

She has a small silver tray in her hands. In the middle is a single plate, covered by a gleaming, metal lid.

Rose keeps her eyes down as she carries it to the table. When she sets it down in front of me, I notice that her hands are shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers in a single breath. The words are so soft and come so fast that it takes my brain an extra second to work them out. By the time I do, Rose has already turned away.

Apprehension builds inside me as I stare at the covered plate. Stonehart waits until Rose is out of the room, then says, “Open it, Lilly.”

My own hand is shaking when I reach out for the lid. I lift it up, fearing the worst…

And find exactly what I expect.

I lose my grip on the handle. It clatters to the floor.

Sitting in the middle of the plate, surrounded by a ring of steaming vegetables, is the distinct, small shape of the dove’s body. Stuffed and fried.

And, as if that wasn’t enough, a taxidermical construction of her head is mounted exactly where it should be.

My insides churn in a mix of revulsion, disgust, and disbelief. Before I can help it, I’m spewing my breakfast up. I turn and heave it all to the floor.

Stonehart watches me with a triumphant expression of satisfaction. I can feel his evil eyes on me as the dry heaves rock my body.

When I’m finally done, with my eyes watering, I turn back to find the dove still there, right in front of me.

I can’t believe he would do this. I can’t believe he would be so
cruel
. This was an animal that I took in and started to care for. And he… he…

He killed it, cooked it, and served it to me.

Stonehart walks slowly around the table. He grimaces when he looks at the vomit on the floor, and makes sure to step wide of it.

“Lucky you weren’t wearing expensive shoes,” he comments.

Those words are almost enough to make me break down and cry.

But I
won’t
. I won’t give him the satisfaction of deriving any more pleasure from this twisted stunt.

I force my back straight. I look up and meet his eyes, blinking through the tears.

“Now what?” I ask. I feel a surge of pride at how steady my voice is.

“Now, I think it’s time for you to have your dinner.” He hooks one finger into my collar and pulls me close to him. “Or maybe you’d prefer that we reactivate
this
?”

“No,” I say firmly. He lets me go. I pick up my knife and fork. I can’t bear to look at the dove’s head staring up at me. Its eyes are
open
, for God’s sake, and it looks like it could still be alive.

Stonehart plucks the head out of the meat. He rolls it between his hands by the wire sticking out from under it.

“Charles assured me that cooking the bird would have killed any diseases it was carrying.” He walks around the table and looks at me. “We don’t have to worry about your health being compromised by this meal.”

I direct the most cloying smile I can muster at him. “That is very considerate of you, Jeremy,” I say.

“Of course.” He sits back down. “We wouldn’t want you to be out of commission and unable to fulfill your obligations to me, would we?”

“No,” I say. I can taste the vomit on my tongue, but I make myself lick my lips anyway as if about to begin a delicious dinner. “Could you ask Charles if he has any water for me? I hate to criticize his cooking, but the meat looks a little dry.”

Something akin to disbelief blossoms on Stonehart’s face. It goes away after a fleeting moment.

“Of course,” he says stiffly. He pushes off and walks to the kitchen.

When I’m alone, I look down at the plate again. I feel so bad for the bird. She would have been alive were it not for me.

And now, I have to
eat
her. I shudder. But I can do it. All I have to do is pretend I’m having a little chicken. A little bit of chicken, that’s all. Nothing scary or wrong about that.

Thank God I didn’t give the dove a name. Then, this would have been so much more painful.

Stonehart returns a moment later with a tall glass of water. I rip my eyes away from the plate and look at him.

He sets the glass down in front of me. He has the dove’s head in his other hand.

He walks around the table, sits down, and leans in to watch me. “Eat,” he commands.

I smile at him. “With pleasure,” I say, and cut into the meat.

I have to treat this like a regular dinner. Now that the shock of it has started to wear off, I am more ready to face it—and face Stonehart—with the strength that I know I have.

He watches me closely, not saying a word, as I bring the first piece of meat to my mouth. I give myself a little pep talk, telling myself that the dove is in a better place, and take the first bite.

The meat is rubbery and tasteless. Even though I asked for the water out of spite, I am glad to have it now. There’s no way I’d be able to swallow without it.

Every piece of meat I force myself to chew is a struggle, but I don’t let Stonehart see it. In fact, when I’m halfway through, I can see him starting to look quite disgruntled.

I’m glad. It means, for the first time, I have given myself an advantage. Stonehart expected this to be torturous for me. By not showing him that reaction, I am frustrating him.

When my plate is finally cleared, Stonehart shoots me a disgusted look. “Have your fucking TGB,” he spits, throwing the dove’s head across the table. It skitters over the dark oak and stops right beside my plate.

Then, he gets up and stalks out of the room.

When I’m alone, I allow myself to think that maybe, just maybe… it’s
score two for Lilly Ryder.

Chapter Eight

I retreat quietly to my room. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that I just saw Stonehart throw a tantrum.

The thought excites me. Knowing that I am able to affect him, in whatever small way, fills me with strength.

He was waiting for my reaction. He did not expect me to eat the bird with so little fuss.

I’ll admit, it took a lot out of me to keep the meat down. To continue eating. But I knew Stonehart wanted to see me balk. He wanted to see me uncomfortable and distressed.

He got none of that.

And poor Rose. Stonehart must have punished her, too, by making her carry out his order. She’d definitely been crying.

When we have the house to ourselves next, I will have to talk to her. I don’t want to do it with Stonehart around.

I take a quick shower to wash the chlorine off my skin and dress in comfy sweat pants and a collegiate hoody. I am always amazed by the things I find in my closet.

Next, I lie down in bed and stare out the window. I’ve turned the lights off, so I can look out at the dark ocean with no inside reflections blocking my view.

I feel a pang of sadness, and a twinge of guilt, for the tiny dove. If I hadn’t taken her in, she might still be alive. And it felt good, for however short a time, to be responsible for a living thing other than myself.

Stonehart didn’t like that, of course. Maybe it was because the dove represented something he did not give me himself. He is doing everything he can to make me reliant on him. The bird was something out of his control, and so it threatened him.

What comes next? I don’t know. Despite having full access to the house, I don’t want to be anywhere other than right here. The sunroom feels like it belongs to me. The rest of the house is his. This little nook is
mine
.

I snort a laugh. There’s nothing
little
about it.

I wonder if Rose is still here. A moment later—speak of the devil—I hear footsteps approaching, and twist back to find her bustling in.

“Miss Ryder?” she whispers. “Are you awake?”

“I’m over here, Rose,” I say. “And yeah. I’m still up.”

She gives a great sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.” She comes up to the bed and looks at the side. “May I?”

“Oh, of course,” I say, pulling the sheets aside to make room for her.

She sits down and smooths out her skirt. “I don’t know how to say this,” she begins uncertainly.

“Rose, it’s fine,” I tell her. I reach out and take her hand. The gesture makes her smile sadly. “You couldn’t have done anything. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“That was a horrible, despicable thing he did,” Rose says. I give a little gasp, thinking of the cameras, and Rose says, “Oh, let him hear. I made my opinion known straight away, for all the good it did us.”

“Can I ask you something?” I try cautiously. Rose nods, and I continue in a voice barely above a whisper. “How long have you known Sto—Jeremy?”

“Oh.” She sighs. “
That
is something he probably does not want you to know.” She makes her voice stronger, so that it rings through the room. “But I have no problem answering questions about my life with the
truth
.” She emphasizes the word. “I’ve known Jeremy Stonehart for almost twenty years, Miss Ryder.”

The figure blindsides me. “So that means you’ve seen… you’ve seen him…”

“I’ve seen him rise to the top, yes. I wasn’t being dishonest when I told you that I’ve never seen Mr. Stonehart as content as when you entered his life. But he still had no right to do what he did today. No right at all!”

“Rose, shh,” I hush her. “It’s okay. Really, it’s fine. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“You poor thing,” Rose says. “I saw how gentle you were with the dove. How sweet. I thought it would do you good, having something to care for. But when he came home, he saw the box… and he became so angry…”

Rose breaks off as tiny sobs overtake her. I’ve never seen her this emotional.

“Come here,” I say. “Shh, shh. It’s okay,” I mutter, crawling to my knees and wrapping my arms around her in a hug. She keeps crying against my shoulder. “Rose. Rose, it’s okay. I don’t blame you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh, but it was,” she says in between falling tears. “When he came home, he went straight to find you. If I had stopped him… I could have delayed him…”

“Jeremy would have still found the dove,” I say resolutely. “Rose, I won’t have you blame yourself for anything. I forbid it.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, sniffling. “So sweet. If I may be frank…?”

I give her a little nod.

“Then you don’t deserve anything that Mr. Stonehart has been doing to you. I can’t think of a person less worthy to be treated this way.”

Her sincerity takes me aback. “Rose, I… Thank you,” I say, wiping away the abrupt wetness in my eyes.

She gives me a little squeeze and stands up. “I better get going. Goodnight, Miss Ryder.”

“Goodnight, Rose,” I whisper.

After she leaves, I change into a silk night shift and go to bed.

Chapter Nine

Bad dreams haunt me that night.

In one of them, I am a dove. I’m stranded in a deep pit and can’t fly up. There are snakes slithering around me, coming closer and closer…

Suddenly I’m myself again. I’m standing over the counter in the kitchen. There’s a big butcher’s knife in my hand. The blade is soaked red with blood. I look down, expecting to find the bird—and see Stonehart there instead. I’ve severed his head from his body. Dead, glaring eyes look at me, full of accusation…

I drop the knife and scream.

I’m back in my mom’s apartment as a teenager. It’s a school night, but I can’t sleep. Mom and her latest boyfriend are in the other room, with the TV turned up full blast. The news anchor’s voice penetrates the paper-thin walls.

I know they’re not watching TV. Mom always turns it up this loud when she’s having sex, as a warning for me not to interrupt.

I turn over and hug the pillow over my ears. There’s a big chemistry test tomorrow, and I’m not going to get any sleep…

I’m by myself in the rundown apartment I can barely afford. It’s spring of my senior year of high school.

I stare at the collection of letters in front of me.
Admission decisions
. Finally, the culmination of everything I’ve worked for my whole life is staring at me.

And I’ve just been sitting there, filled with the worst type of nervous anticipation, looking at them for hours.

Most of them are small. Rejections, I’m sure. But there’s one big, heavy envelope from Yale…

I’m walking through campus my first day in New Haven. I’m still struck by disbelief that I’m here. I am actually
here
.

The buildings are all so pretty. The architecture is wonderful. I promise myself that I’m going to take advantage of every single moment I have to be outside over the next four years.

A fat raindrop lands on my nose. I look up—and am suddenly being pelted by hundreds of them. I shriek, half in delight and half in excitement, and run for a big willow tree where the grass is still dry.

I get there, and find two other girls who had the same idea to take shelter.

“That’s one hell of a welcome,” one of them says. She’s really pretty, with long, straight black hair and olive dark skin. “Are you two freshman?”

“Yes,” I say in unison with the other girl. She’s pretty, too, but in a more subdued and understated way.

“Great,” the first one says. “Me too. I’m Fey.”

“Sonja,” the second girl offers.

“I’m Li—” I start to say, but am cut off as one long branch of the willow tree whips down and wraps itself around my body.

I open my mouth to scream. Another branch forces its way into my throat, cutting off my air supply—

I come to and find myself sputtering and thrashing. For a moment, I’m still stuck in that dream. The branches are tight around my body, and I can’t move. I cannot move…

When reality dawns on me, I wish that I had never awakened.

I’m not alone. Stonehart is here with me. I can see his shape towering over me in the dark.

My wrists are bound to the bed posts around me. There’s a gag in my mouth. I try to speak, but manage to produce only muffled sounds.