The Story of Blood and Roses

"I'm just tired," I said to no one in particular. "No more lies. Tell me when you found out I saw Melody Vincent's daughter." Anthony looked at me curiously.

"I knew all along that you were Melody Vincent's daughter. I knew Cain Vincent was your father. He faked his death so that he could exploit his property and take over his business." He grabbed one of my shoulders and I flinched back. My wrists hurt badly. The emotional turmoil was sucking my life out.

"What else did you know?" I asked him.

"I had known that I'd have to earn your trust. Everything about you is like your mother. The determination in your eyes... I remember seeing it in hers, too. I knew I had to lure you in. You were a good investment. Your parents had left a mark in the business. I knew that people would go to great heights to have you."

"What would you have done? Would you have sold me? I wouldn't have gone down without a fight." I let the chill seep into my voice. I had tried to grab onto the last ray of hope, but it slipped from between my fingers. I had fallen into his web of lies.

He's doing everything for himself. He's not trying to protect anyone. I was stupid enough to believe him… stupid enough to actually think that he would care about other people.

"I know that you would fight until your last breath. I trust you," he said cheekily. "How could I ever sell you out, my love? You're mine. I would never share you with anyone." His words made my blood boil. He leaned in to press another kiss to my lips. My mind fought, but my body: it relaxed under his touch.

To think that the lips of a traitor would bring me peace.

When he pulled away, he had a scowl on his face.

I glared at him. Conjuring all my strength and with the consent of my body, mind and heart, I spat at him. He staggered back in shock. A sense of victory overcame me. I had gotten the last word.

Guess Daisy was right about the whole 'people throwing away people after they fucked' thing.

"Get her up from that fucking chair," he growled as he wiped his cheek with the back of his hands.

I had it coming for a long time.

It was fucking time to face the music.

I knew how it would play out.

They would drag it out for days, starving me, giving me hope, trying to torture information I didn't have out of me.

I would keep them busy.

I would give them trivial details about their life, just to spook them out.

I would cut off my sense of pain like I had so many times before.

I would wait it out and kill myself when I got the perfect opportunity.

I couldn't get out of it.

It was the end.

It was time to embrace reality.

I wondered why the watch was still on my wrist.

I realized only I could take it out.

I wondered why no one was coming to get me out.

I rationalized that I was too big a liability to have around.

I was no longer useful to anyone. I was better left for dead.

I could hear the sound of the metal scissors snipping away the grimy layer of fabric from my skin. I felt the cool, sharp tips of it dig into my side, ever so often. I never once looked into the eyes of the people who surrounded me. I kept my eyes on him.

He seemed unaffected.

I loved to play the game.

I had nothing more to lose.

This would be my final revenge.

"I love you," I whispered. Heads snapped towards me. His eyes stayed locked on Darcy. He didn't dare look at me. He knew what I was doing.

"Are you talking to the little bastard?" Darcy laughed. I shook my head. Finally, I pulled my eyes away and stared at the older man.

"You," I said, firmly. Pride burst through my chest as I saw his eyes widen a bit. "I am no ballerina. I can't show you my blackened feathers, but I love you... I always have."

"Ballerina?" Luke muttered, suspiciously. "What do you mean, girl?"

"Do you remember the theatre? The red velvet seats, the silence that overcame the crowd as the curtains slid open? Didn't she look beautiful? I wished I was her. To have your affection, the time of your day. It must have been a boon. Tell me, did you see her for the first time on that stage?" My voice was barely over a whisper, but I knew that the man had heard me. He had fallen in love with a dancer. A woman so passionate that she could turn her tears into liquid perfection on the stage.

"Are you trying to rattle me, girl?" I shook my head.

"I'm just awed to finally be in your presence. I always wondered if I would be lucky enough to survive meeting you. I think I got my answer today."

"So, you've been stalking me all your life?"