Page 51 of Prayer of the Damned
“She hasn’t awakened,” my father tells Libretto.
“But look at her body, she’s completed the transformation,” he answers. They’re having a conversation and completely ignoring my presence.
It really boils my blood.
“I’m standing right here!” I point at myself.
“Bellcolor, sweetheart…” my father addresses me in a paternal tone, but Libretto cuts him off.
“Don’t call her that, she’s not your responsibility anymore,” he growls.
I stamp my feet to get their attention. “I’m not some ragdoll you can pass around as you please.”
“Something’s gone wrong,” Libretto again ignores my presence. “Tell me what she’s thinking.”
My father scans me, and I hold my breath in anticipation.Please don’t sell me out again, please, I repeat again and again in my mind. My father nods. “Our connection has been broken.”
Oh God, really?And my father shoots me a meaningful look.
“Pull her out of school,” my father demands.
“It seems we have no choice,” Libretto agrees.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m putting a stop to it here and now.” I turn to leave the hall, but Libretto forcibly grabs my hand and I let out a yelp of pain.
I shake my hand to escape his grip and he goes flying to the other side of the hall. I look at my hand in shock. Where did that strength come from? I didn’t even make an effort.
“Damn…” Libretto hisses, having trouble getting to his feet. “Her body has certainly awakened, but her mind hasn’t yet.”
“Bellcolor!” my father chastises me. “You mustn’t show such disrespect to the head of the Council!”
“I don’t give a fuck about him or your Council!” I scream at him. It’s just too much. If they think they can control me, they’re wrong. Now that I have the power I need, I can be free of them. I won’t be another puppet on a string, I won’t walk in the dark anymore.
“You!” The vein in my father’s forehead swells up, and I instinctively and fearfully withdraw.
Libretto raises his hand and my father falls silent, grinding his teeth nevertheless.
“Tell me, Bellcolor, what are your demands?” Libretto addresses me in a matter-of-fact tone.Gee, thanks.
“I want to know what’s going on here. I want to know everything. I don’t want to hear any more lies, I don’t want you to hide one more thing from me. All these secrets just led to an accident that led to another.” I turn to him, emboldened, with nothing more to lose. I’ve lost any grip on the familiar. If they don’t start giving me the answers I deserve, I might lose my mind altogether.
“All right, Bellcolor. I’ll accede to your request.”
His agreement raises my suspicions. Suddenly I’m very aware of my disproportionate reaction versus the tranquility in his voice.
“O-okay…” I straighten up, trying to project confidence, but it’s as phony as the smile Libretto gives me.
“Dine with me today in private, and I’ll tell you anything you wish. Adina will take you to your room.” I watch him leave the hall nonchalantly, as though everything that happened here was beneath his concern.
“I don’t need a room because I’m not staying here!” I stamp my foot and my fists tighten at my sides. But he says nothing, opening the heavy doors and leaving the hall. “I’m not…” I repeat in a frowning mumble. He’s not evening listening.
The doors behind me open, and the woman in the tight pantsuit – whose name I now know is Adina – hurries towards me, putting her hand on my back to guide me to a room I have no desire to stay in. She gasps as soon as her hand touches me, but doesn’t remove it as she pushes me forward. I try to avoid her touch, and see my father still standing there, mouth agape. I don’t say anything to him while Lady Tightpants leads me tothe same exit Libretto left through. My father’s given me up, handing over ownership of me like I’m a car to be traded in.
Adina pushes me through twisting corridors, and we pass by works of art that practically scream of wealth, prestige and arrogance. She opens a door in a desolate corridor, pauses and says: “You’re in Libretto’s private wing, so stay in your room. Don’t wander the dark hallways and play games if you’re not willing to lose.” The warning in her voice sends chills down my spine, and I decide to listen to her. “I’ll come fetch you in an hour. You could use a shower. There are clothes in the closet, feel free to use whatever you like.” She bows and leaves in a hurry.
I enter the room allotted to me, feeling like I’ve invaded the private quarters of some unknown noblewoman. There’s dark blue wallpaper on the walls, white cornices, works of art framed in gold, drapes that match the wallpaper framed in white lace, and, of course, an exaggerated canopy bed.
I open the door to the right of the bed. The first thing that catches my eye is a white bathtub on golden legs, standing in the middle of the bathroom. I hurry over and turn on the golden faucet. I need a hot bath to calm my nerves. As the water flows I examine the room. The cabinet over the sink is full of cosmetics, modern stuff, and I wonder how many women stay here on a regular basis that the service cabinets are always stocked.
