LACY

I stare at the little device in my hand.

It's heavy and flat. Black and metallic. It's cold in my hand, and I almost think about dropping it on the floor. I wonder how loud it would be.

Of course, I won't do that. It's make a clatter and that would cause a disturbance, and I know from living with Dad is that it's best to keep quiet at home.

At home, if I kept quiet, then I couldn't make any mistakes in front of Dad. There would be no possible way for me to mess up.

I sit on the bed in the bedroom I've been put in, cross-legged on the baby blue flowery comforter. The phone lays in front of me.

Dad never would've given me my belongings back just like that. I'd at least get a backhanding before I'd be able to whatever that was taken away from me to begin with.

I reach for my phone and open it, and see numerous texts and calls from my extensive list of friends from Mayfair, all asking where I am and how I'm doing.

I scroll through the missed messages I have, from all my friends at school, and on the street I lived on. A smile graces my lips at my friends' concern for me.

Outside of my home, away from my father, I became a different person. At first, I was just friendly and nice to everyone because my parents told me to be.

But then, I began to flourish. My personality struck out of its confined shell I had to shove it into at home and I grew to just love being out, in social places.

At school, at events. Even at the public park or in a shop. I could befriend everyone. All I had to do was smile, and then everyone would adore me.

It was so different from my home life that I completely submerged myself in everyone and everything around me. Soon enough, I was no longer acting.

I had become the bright and cheerful poster child my mother and father desperately wanted. I was so desperately hoping that I'd be given the praise I had earned.

But I never did.

Of course, there was always something wrong with me.

I smiled too much. I frowned too much.

I was fat. I was anorexic.

I was a show-off. I wasn't good at anything.

Every single day in that house, I tried with every being in my body to impress my father. Just once, I wanted to hear him praise me.

That day never arrived.

Never once in my life had I been praised by anyone except my teachers for high marks at school. And now, I'm being praised daily by these people called my brothers.

Praised for my ability to French braid my hair.

Praised for my eye color.

Praised for my fashion sense and clothes.

It's so odd. I thought that your kidnappers are supposed to be mean and cruel. I've seen plenty of movies which show smart girls being able to escape their horrid abductors.

But my kidnappers have been anything but. I'm able to roam around freely— albeit, I can't leave the property— and I'm given warm food and now I have my mobile.

What possessed Adam to give this thing back to me? How does he trust me enough to think that I won't call the cops on them?

Any sane person, especially a young girl like myself, would be calling the police by now. So why am I not?

I click on another icon on the mobile, and the keypad pops up. All I have to do is dial 999 and I'll be out of this house. I'll be free.

My fingers make no effort to move. I just stare at the numbers. Why won't I move them? I don't even know the answer.

James throws his hands up dramatically in the air. He knocks a chess piece over, and it falls to its side in defeat. A small smile escapes its way onto my lips.

I sit on the other side of the chess board, my legs criss cross as I sit on the carpet in front of the fireplace. The library smells like old books and cinnamon.

"You've beat me at every game," James pouts, a playful frown on his lips as he sighs in disappointment. "I think you're cheating!" His accusation rings off the walls.

I shake my head. "How can you cheat at chess?"

He shrugs. "I dunno, but you did. That's the only reason how I'd lose!" He laughs, and for a moment, I almost find myself laughing along with him.

Before I realize it, I'm smiling at the memory from just a few nights ago, when James tracked me down and coerced me to play game upon game of chess with him.

Why is he so nice to me? Why do I feel so comfortable around him?

I stand in the kitchen, drinking water, and gazing at the moonlight that sinks into the space through the large windows.

The sound of slipper-clad feet startle me. I turn around, and see Liam enter the kitchen. His eyes widen in slight surprise, but he smiles at me.

"Want some tea?" He asks. He doesn't even try to pry.

"Ok," I agree, my voice barely audible. It seems rude to just leave. But then again, kidnapping me is rude. And still, I remain in the kitchen as he makes tea.

When it's done, we stand on opposite sides of the counter, sipping tea quietly. He adds honey in his, and then hands it to me, so I do the same.

I leave first after finishing my tea.

With Liam, I feel comfortable too. I can just be quiet with him and I don't feel the need to fill it. We can just sit, enjoying ourselves and the moment.

Gosh, I'm loosing my bloody mind.

Why would I feel connected to my kidnappers? Why do I feel like we're bound together, emotionally? Why is there an air of familiarity around them?

Even Adam and Thomas— the most intimidating ones out of the lot, and the ones I rarely see aside from dinner and the evenings— aren't anything like Dad.

Adam puts a credit card in front of me as I sit at the dining table. I look at it, and then at him. What am I meant to do with this?

"Use it for shopping," Adam clarifies. "Think of it as a belated birthday present. It's limitless, so don't worry about a budget."

He nods stiffly and walks off, leaving me with a limitless credit card.

Even though he's clearly the tallest, strongest, and the leader of the four, he's never raised his voice at anyone or lost his temper.

I haven't even seen him near anything alcoholic.

I look out the window of the bedroom, and see Thomas outside, cutting the hedges of the bushes. His brows are knit together, his jaw clenched.

I only ever see him cutting the hedges, not any professional gardeners. In fact, there aren't any employees on this estate.

He glances up, and our eyes meet. He gives me a nod of acknowledgment and goes back to cutting the greenery.

They all seem to care about me.

Why, oh why?

Why do these strange people care more about me than my actually family cared about me in the whole decade I was with them?

I push myself off the bed, and unlock the door of the bedroom. I walk through the hallways, down the staircase, and out onto the back lawn where I know all of them will be.

They sit outside at a table and chairs set up on the lawn each night, watching the ocean over the line of trees surrounding this estate.

I can hear their chattering from my window, since it's right above the furniture set. They ask me each night to join them, but I always decline.

Tonight, however, is different. Tonight, I have a demand to make. A request, to be more polite. Mum always said polite people get what they want.

That never applied to Dad, obviously.

Every one of them stop talking as I approach, which leaves me feeling slightly uneasy, but it's not like I can go back inside now.

"Is there something you need, lovely Lacy?" Liam pipes up, softly and gently. His voice reminds me of Earl Grey tea with honey drizzled into it.

"I want a DNA test," and after a second of silence, I add, "please."

———

Hi, loves!

What did you think about this chapter?

Thoughts on Lacy and her brothers?

What are your questions about Lacy's past and her relationships with the members of the Clark family before they passed?

This chapter kinda felt more fall-y than costal-y but I blame that on the weather outside my window as I'm writing this! Lots of splendid, colorful trees!

Vote and comment!

Au revoir,

Eva