“People are capable of almost anything when they’re desperate.” – Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn


    Iris


    My mom and I stood side-by-side, scrutinizing our reflections in the mirror. We were mirror images of each other, both wearing the same blue sundress adorned with white daisies, and matching blue ballet flats. Our hair was pulled back in identical neat buns, and we’d applied the minimal makeup he’d requested – a dusting of eyeshadow and a touch of lipstick.


    The clock ticked towards 6:00 PM, but I wasn’t one to leave anything to chance, especially not when our lives were on the line. I turned to my mother, her hands trembling slightly as she grasped mine. “Take a deep breath,” I whispered gently. She inhaled sharply, holding it for a moment before releasing it slowly. She repeated this twice more, the tremors in her hands gradually subsiding. “Thank you, Iris,” she murmured, a small, strained smile gracing her lips. “You’re so strong.”


    She gently touched my face, her touch surprisingly firm. “Let’s go,” I said, taking her hand in mine. With a shared nod, we walked hand-in-hand down the hallway towards the kitchen, where we were to stand and wait for him. As we approached, I pushed down the bitterness that bubbled within me, steeling myself for the inevitable dinner, the forced family meal that had become a chilling ritual in our lives.


    We both stood at our places behind our chairs on opposite sides of the table. The sound of the lock outside clicking announced his arrival, 6 pm like clockwork it had been this way for two weeks now. I saw my mom flinch before she took a breath and relaxed her stance. I stood still as well, waiting and ready. I heard him lock the door behind him before shuffling down the hall to the kitchen. He always checked to make sure the kitchen was clean and that the cooking knives were in place. Once my mom tried to take the knife to hide and use later, and he blacked her eye. I bit back the anger at the remembered memory, giving myself a mental shake. I needed to focus.


    We heard some more shuffling and then his footsteps as he came back down the hall and into the dining room. He appeared in the doorway, a tall and lean figure with defined muscles. He had black hair worn slightly long and dark blue eyes that seemed to absorb the light. His skin was pale, almost translucent. He smiled when he saw us before he came in and sat down at the head of the table. We weren’t allowed to sit until he did. We both sat down and waited for him to speak. He sat the bottle of wine he got on the table, followed by his revolver right next to it. I eyed it. He did this as well, to keep us in check. If not for the gun, I would have said “fuck it” and taken my chances but I had to be smart.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    “How was your day?” he asked up lacing his fingers together as he leaned forward and waited for us to speak.


    “Oh, it was… productive,” my mother said, her voice a tightrope walk across a chasm of fear. “Very productive. I… I cleaned the entire house. Top to bottom.”


    He raised an eyebrow, he was pleased by this. “Sounds exhausting. All that exertion.”


    “Yes, well,” she said, her gaze darting nervously around the room, “one must keep busy, mustn’t one?”


    He took another sip of wine, his eyes narrowing. “And what did you do with yourself, young lady?”


    I smiled gently, my voice calm and measured, “I read.”


    “Read? And what did this fascinating novel contain?”


    I shrugged, my heart pounding. “ romance. And adventure”


    He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Romance, eh? Sounds exciting. Though I doubt it compares to the real world, does it?”


    I tilted my head slightly, a playful glint in my eye. “You never know, perhaps it offered a more exciting reality than this one.”


    He leaned back in his chair, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Oh? And what makes you say that?”


    I maintained my composure, my voice steady. “Just an observation.”


    He leaned back in his chair, a predatory glint in his eyes. “No adventures? I find that hard to believe. You’re always up to something, aren’t you?”


    I smiled and shook my head. “Not at all. I’m just doing as I’m told and enjoying the day as it goes."


    He nodded and smiled back. I saw my mom eyeing us warily out of the corner of my eye. She always got nervous when I had any exchange with him because I told her it wasn’t just for shits and giggles. I needed to understand him. The better I understood him, the better our chances of survival were.


    “Tell me,” I said, turning my attention back to him, “what did you do today? Did you have a productive day as well?”


    And like a switch flipped, he launched into a detailed account of his day, expecting our rapt attention. Yesterday he was an accountant, today he was a car salesman, and he had made three sales. My mother and I made sure to shower him with the appropriate amount of feigned interest and congratulations as we ate our meal. At least out of this god-awful situation, I had a good meal to eat, I thought bitterly as he droned on and on.