Pretty Girls Dancing(25)

“You’ve earned it, dear. Good behavior should be recognized, just as certainly as bad behavior is punished.”

His voice sounding in the near darkness had the barely healed wounds on her back and shoulders throbbing as if in response.

“Now, please sit down.”

Ignoring an inner urge to bolt at the command, she sank to the wooden floor. Pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.

“I’m afraid I have some troubling news, and it’s understandable that you’ll be upset. Your family was killed yesterday morning. It was a plane crash. There were no survivors. I’m so sorry, Whitney, for your loss.”

Her first reaction was shock. Then bewilderment. “No, they weren’t. You’re wrong. They wouldn’t have been on a plane. They’re looking for me.”

“They aren’t looking for you, Whitney. No one is. I told you that before. Everyone thinks you ran away. Ungrateful children often do, you know. There was a family vacation scheduled, was there not? You were all going to California and planned to leave yesterday.”

Her heart started thudding in her ears. A greasy tangle of nerves knotted in her stomach. How could he know that? How could he? Unless . . . Aunt Julie was in the hospital, but they wouldn’t have gone without Whitney. They wouldn’t! Had she told Patrick about the trip? Her thoughts were scattered. She couldn’t remember. But she must have. And now the freak was using his knowledge to mess with her. She didn’t care now what reaction her words would bring. The denial was surging through her, demanding release. “You’re lying. Just to be mean and cruel and . . . and an asshole! You’re lying!”

“We’ll suspend the rules, just for now, because of your terrible loss.” How could he spew those lies, those vicious untruths, and sound so fucking reasonable? “I know you don’t want to believe it. Both your parents and Ryan, poor boy, so very young. I realize it’s a shock. But you aren’t alone, Whitney, dear. You still have me.”

Those words highlighted the horror of it all. She didn’t believe him. She didn’t! Her family would never believe she ran away. They wouldn’t go to California with her missing. No matter how worried they were about her aunt or how much Ryan may have begged because he was looking forward to seeing Disneyland.

“I don’t believe you.” The tears streaming down her face made it difficult to see, but there was nothing to look at, anyway, beyond the stage except for the glow of the computer screen and projector. It was like staring into an inky pit. Horrible words were being tossed from the shadows like poisonous pebbles. Did he think she was a child? That he could say anything and make her believe it? “I’m not stupid. You’re trying to manipulate me.” That’s what monsters did, didn’t they? Break you down, body, spirit, and mind? That’s all he was trying to do. Because it wasn’t true. It wasn’t. It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t!

Logic ruled one part of her, emotion the other. Because even as the denials came, an overwhelming flood of loneliness swept over her, snatching the sobs from her breath, worming deep inside her and radiating from within, icy tendrils of fear. “I’ll never believe you.”

She could hear him moving closer, and for once, it didn’t matter. There was something she feared far more than him, after all. Like discovering that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

“Look at the wall.”

Whitney wiped her face on the sleeve of her leotard as she turned. Saw nothingness on the white brick. Then a blank Internet search page with a URL to the Columbus Dispatch. A story filled the screen, zoomed in on the headline.

Fiery Plane Crash Kills 120

The screen changed to a story for the Cincinnati Daily News.

California-Bound Plane Crashes

It was dated November 4.

“No.” But the word was a sob now. A plea. “Please, God, no.”

Now there were just headlines on the page. All of them blurred together.

Crash of New Plane Baffles Airline

Fiery Crash Shuts Down Cleveland-Hopkins Airport

Cleveland. They were going to leave from Cleveland. She might have told Patrick that, too. But when a picture of her brother came up on the screen, followed by each of her parents, with their names under the heading Deceased, a howl of despair tore up from her belly. The hard, racking sobs left her throat jagged and raw. All her doubts, all her sorrow balled up in one huge boulder of grief and demanded a release. And when it was over, when she’d cried herself dry and could produce nothing more than a whimper, she lay crumpled on the floor, her face pressed to the gritty boards, the sense of desolation overwhelming.

“That’s good. It’s best to let grief out, so it doesn’t fester. That’s healthy.”

She’d forgotten the freak. He was still out there somewhere. Watching her breakdown with the same cold scrutiny he’d probably had when observing her practicing naked. That’s what she was left with. Only him.

“This is your home now. I’m the only family you have remaining. Our connection was so quick. So strong. You already feel like my daughter, and if you let yourself, soon you’ll feel the same way about me. Why don’t you try? Call me Daddy.”

An hour ago, she would have laughed at him, at least in her mind. Been repulsed by the obscenity of his suggestion. But now she felt nothing. There was only emptiness and a yawning sense of despair. Because he hadn’t lied. It was true, all of it. Her family was dead. She wanted to be dead, too. Instead, she was alone. At the freak’s mercy. And even that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Nothing did.