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40.62% The Beauty Inside / Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Capítulo 13: Chapter 13

Macey

I wake with a start, sweat clinging to my body, my forehead damp. I try and steady my breathing, giving myself the same pep talk Olga asked me to memorize.

I am no longer his pet

I am home and safe.

He is no longer a threat

Looking around the room, I choose an item to study, something else Olga has taught me when the mantra just isn't enough. My small white bear I had won at a local state fair months before my kidnapping lay against the wall in the corner of my room along with my other stuffed animals.

Coming back home was difficult. My parents had kept my room exactly the way that I had left it, causing emotions to consume me each time I turned around. For the first two nights, I had slept under the bed, hating that what I feared most was not master coming to haunt me, but for the real Whitney Donaldson to come barging in at any moment.

Imposter.

I felt like an imposter in my own home, in my own bedroom.

In my own body.

The girl my parents missed, the one that disappeared all those years ago, was dead. But they wanted me to take her place, to pretend to be her instead of the shell she was now.

Being around my family, interacting with them each and every day is exhausting. My mother fakes each and every smile, worry and shame fill her face constantly. While my father walks around with anger chirped on his shoulder. He's gentle with me, but I can see the frustration building, the resentment he musters up with my confusion.

I had spent a week in the facility back in Alaska. A week of doctors poking and sticking, a week of my mother and father crying, a week of the FBI constantly asking me to relive each day over and over again under my master's rule. I hated each day, each moment I was there, but I hated even more that Michael was not there to help me, to guide me and tell me what I needed to do.

I never told anyone that I wanted him there, craved his deep eyes penetrating mine, but Olga figured it out. She explained that I didn't belong to him, that he was a simple transportation for me. I fought the harsh words spoken to me at first, saying to myself that she just didn't quite understand, but as each session came and went, I was able to grasp what she meant. Still, there hasn't been a single moment I haven't thought of him, a strange notion for me, seeing how I wasn't even that way with master.

Hoping out of bed, I make my way to the shower, turning the heat on full blast before undressing and stepping inside. Showering, sleeping, eating, it was all such a strange version of a different reality for me. Going from having a precise schedule, ran by a man that would use my body as his own, to being able to do it all whenever I pleased was a hard pill to swallow.

Stepping out of the shower, I avoid the mirror, dressing in a simple tank and yoga pants, then walk out of my bedroom and straight to the kitchen.

Mom is in the kitchen, making breakfast while a soft melody plays in the background. There are certain traits of my parents I have remembered but other memories are popping up the longer I stay here. Her love for music whenever cooking was one of the one's I remembered.

Olga had explained to me that my parents, in their own way, were coping as well. Seeing them for the first time after everything that's happened, would be a lot like seeing me for the first time. Confusing, painful, grueling. Every emotion conflicting with the next.

My parents had aged, that was my first thought when they came into that room back in Alaska. My mother's hair had grown greyer and my father was much smaller than I remember him. Mom's sad smile she wears even to this day and dad's focus and determination make it hard to speak to either one of them.

On my third night here, my father had confronted me, telling me that it was time I started using my real name. He had been calling me Whitney, but I never answer to that name. Olga tells me it's something that will happen in time, but none of them understand, no one does. My name is not only something I had been given; it was something I had deserved, something I earned.

"Oh Macey, I hadn't seen you there. I was just making some breakfast; would you like some?" She asks in a soft tone. I stand there, twiddling with my thumbs as she stares at me, waiting for my answer.

Olga had told me that I had to start telling people what I wanted and to start answering questions. Frustration bites at me when I think of how simple I would just like to be normal again, to tell my mother yes, I am hungry and would like some food, but my brain no longer works that way. I am not allowed to be so disrespectful.

"I tell you what. Sit and eat, and I will eat with you." Nodding my head and tankful for the easy way out, I sit at the breakfast bar as mom turns the nob, quieting the music and continues to make breakfast.

My first day home was extremely troublesome. Mom had made dinner, something that should have been a simple act, but the moment they sat down, and I kneeled beside the empty seat, I knew it would be anything but. My father stood quickly, throwing his chair backwards, startling me in the process. I ran, hid in between the still scorching hot stove and the pantry doors. It took a phone call from Olga to be able to wedge me out and calm me down. I had gotten a burn along my arm that my mother cried over for hours.

Olga had explained to my parents what my tradition was for eating and how the guards and Master Phillipe would be the one's to feed us their scraps when they felt like it.

Since that dreadful day, mom has made it her mission to feed me every couple of hours.

A large white plate with small doves painted on it is placed before me as mom gives me a warm smile that has started to grow on me and walks away, starting on what I'm assuming is her third cup of coffee for that morning.

I stare at the eggs, toast and bacon with wonder. It's perfect. Everything cooked to perfection starring at the person that is their opposite. Before I can tare myself down further, dad walks inside from the garage door, his footstep echoing off the walls as he nears the kitchen.

"Morning." He says enthusiastically. I look over at him as mom walks over to kiss him on his cheek.

"Good morning sweetheart. What's got you in such a cheery mood today?"

"Can't a guy just come home and be happy to see his two favorite girls?" I look down at my still full plate, my fingernails digging into my arms as they continue to laugh and joke, speaking quietly as if I weren't here.

With dad being an orthodontist and owning his own practice, he is able to take off mornings when I have therapy. Mom is an interior decorator and only works when she has clients. Because of this, both have been home quite a bit since I've returned.

"Whitey?"

I am my master's pet.

I am my master's pet

"Whitney?"

But my master is no longer

My master is gone

"Macey?" I turn looking at my parents eye each other before both turning on fake smiles that they have mastered since I have returned. "You should eat, it's almost time to get going."

Nodding my head, I return my gaze back to my plate and muster up the appetite I no longer have. Eating only half my plate, I stand walking over to my mom and hand her the dish. Giving me a warm smile, she reaches in to hug me, but stops mid stride, placing her hands along her sides.

"Have a good day at therapy sweetheart."

I turn towards my father, walking along with him as he leads me back out towards the garage. Hopping in the car I do the same thing I've done for over three weeks now. I lean my head against the window, starring at each and every single item I can spot along the car ride.

I can remember a few things about my past, more and more as the time goes by. But the scenery, that was one thing I can now say I took for granted. The bright green trees, side by side along the narrow streets. The dark red brick of each building we pass. Even the small perched birds atop the blue benches waiting for people to throw even the smallest of scraps. It's all vibrant and alive compared to what I know, to what I remember.

Pulling up to a stop sign I watch as the kids cross with the aid of a guard dressed in a yellow jacket. A few people spot our car and point and whisper like they always do whenever I leave the house. I close my eyes, ignoring them, something my parents have been adamant I do, and don't open them again until I feel the car moving forward.

Since coming home, there have been many people to come and visit. The first week it was a mad house outside our front lawn. Reporters, news anchors, even people from my high school had come to see the news about the girl in the small town that had disappeared all those years before.

After a while, I would get letters, flowers, baked goods, everything under the sun from neighbors, old teachers, even work colleges when I worked at the local library the one summer before senior year. My popularity in high school was nothing compared to the attention I am getting now.

The only people I have yet to see, are my ex-boyfriend, Curt, and Sara, my best friend from high school.

It feels strange to have this sort of reaction from those I do not remember. The tears, gifts and condolences are bizarre to me, but I suck it up and give them the performance they deserve, the one they need in order to leave me in peace.

Pulling up to Olga's office, I wait for dad to open my door and walk beside him, heading right for the elevators, keeping my eyes downcast the whole way. I have memorized the amount of steps it takes to get to Olga's door. When I reach my count, I look up when the door opens and spot Olga, but she is not alone. The man my heart has been yearning for sits beside her on the soft white plush couch.

Michael.


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