“Okay, okay. Sorry. So I go to jail. You turn me in.”
“Correct. I have more than enough evidence here of your little robbery. I don’t know how much time you get for that kind of shit these days, and I suppose it’s a bit of a pity that you aren’t armed, but anyway, I digress. You go in the slammer for quite some time, that’s what I know. You’ll do time. Get a criminal record. You’ll never be able to con again.”
“I got it.”
“And your family’s name will be tarnished even more. Your poor Uncle Jim. He’s going to have a hell of a time with this. Gee, I hope the whole town won’t turn against him. Doesn’t really look good harboring two sets of Watt fugitives.”
I narrowed my eyes, my jaw tense. “What’s the other choice?”
“The other choice is that you help me.”
I brought my chin into my neck. “Help you? Help you with what?”
He let out a long breath and tapped the gun against his leg, looking up at the ceiling. “That might be better explained in the morning.”
“But…but, okay, so then what happens? I can’t agree to help you unless you tell me what it is. What’s going to happen to me until morning?” The panic was starting to spread inside my lungs at a speed that even Ativan couldn’t save.
His look was dry. “Oh, come on and use your brain. You’re really going to choose jail if you don’t like whatever help is needed? I just gave you a way out. It doesn’t matter how you can help me, what matters is that you have the chance to. I’d take it if I were you.”
“I don’t like agreeing to things without knowing what I’m agreeing to,” I squeaked out.
“Well, there’s always option three.” My eyes darted to his face. He smiled. “I can just shoot you in the head. I’ll destroy the tape, make it look like self-defense, and let my father take care of the rest.”
The room grew thick with silence as I processed what he had just said.
Finally I said, “You wouldn’t have the guts. That’s murder.”
“It doesn’t take guts to commit murder. It takes stupidity and passion. You’re lucky I’m feeling really smart right about now.”
He walked over to the light switch and turned it on. I blinked harshly at the light, feeling more on the spot than ever. Cornered desperation? Yeah, I was sure it was written all over my face, bleeding out from every pore.
I didn’t have much of a choice.
“Fine,” I said carefully. “I’ll help you out with whatever you want, just as long as you promise you won’t harm or hurt or defame my uncle in any way. My parents, I don’t care. But leave my uncle out of this.”
“Deal,” he said. He walked to me and lifted me to my feet by my shoulders. He kept his grip tight and his eyes roamed about my face, probably enjoying the eau de cornered desperation.
“Deal,” I replied.
He bared his teeth in a smile before leaning into my ear.
“I own you, Ellie Watt,” he whispered.
The words sounded just like a cell door closing.
Behind me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Then
It had been a month since the girl had to show her gym class her scars, and in that month, the rumors had spread. They weren’t as harsh and vicious as they had been when kids had nothing to go on, but they were rumors just the same. Some people said she’d been a victim of a chemistry experiment gone wrong, like Bruce Banner before he became The Hulk, others thought that her family were Muslim extremists and she’d been punished for adultery. Of course, none of the rumors made any sense at all. Then again, neither did the truth.
But for the most part, people stopped being so mean to the girl. There was just pity instead. A lot of sympathetic looks, some hushed whispers, and the occasional person backing away from her as if she had some sort of flesh-eating disease. The girl could only assume that was some other rumor going around.
In some ways, the girl felt more at peace because the others weren’t calling her names anymore, but at other times she felt like she’d been ripped open and exposed for all the world to see. With her admission, her deformity belonged to everyone now. She didn’t have much else to keep for herself.