Page 87 of Uncrowned

“Dead.”

“Truth.” The blonde kept her voice light as the deeply tanned woman with round, dark eyes glared not feet away.

“Who killed them?”

“The masked man.”

“Truth.”

“What did the mask man do with the bodies?”

“I don’t know. I told you,” I sobbed. “I woke up in an underground room—a cement room. Like a cellar, but bigger. It was in a house. I… I don’t know the road it was on. I didn’t look when I escaped. I just ran. I couldn’t think. I just kept running until I saw a house I recognized. That’s when I realized where I was.”

“…Truth.”

“Who is the masked man?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lie.”

The brunette surged to her feet, reaching over the table and slapping me. “This man killed your parents. Give us a name!”

“I don’t know who he is! He seemed familiar. I’ve tried to figure it out. I… I t-think maybe he was the one calling me.” More I cried, trying to catch my breath. “When we talked on the phone, he never showed himself. But I knew he had to be near. He had me sit on my windowsill so he could watch me.”

The blonde’s face drew in, and she glanced at the brunette. I hadn’t told them about the phone calls.

“Truth.”

The dark-haired woman’s shoulders shifted, and she paused.

“How long did you talk to this man on the phone before you were taken?”

My head lowered and I looked up, feeling what my old self would have felt. Afraid.

“Months. I’m so ashamed about it.” A sob tore from me. “I was so lonely, and he was nice to me. He’d let me tell him about my day. We’d sometimes talk for hours. He actually cared how I was.”

“Truth.”

The brunette raked her fingers through her hair.

“You know more and you’re not saying it. Who is the man?”

My mind raced as I buried my face in my hands, biding my time as thoughts raced and weaved.

“I don’t know. Please. He said… I was his. He’d come and he’d go. Sometimes he wouldn’t come back for days. Days!” Harder I broke down, showing them the scars on my arms and hands from the cuffs. “I want to go h-home. Please. I can’t do this anymore.”

Silence drew out.

“Did the man ever remove the mask?”

“No!” The woman lifted the weapon to electrocute me again. “Wait… Wait!” I kept a shocked look on my face and let my eyes blindly search the table, zeroing in on a memory. “Y-Yes. He did. The lights were off. It was pitch black. I felt,” I reached out to the space between us, seeing Vaughn—feeling him. “I touched his face. I saw it in my mind.”

“Truth.”

The women eyed each other, and the brunette’s tone softened as her hand lowered.

“Good. That’s good. Do you think you could remember what he looks like?”