We Told Six Lies(61)

“What? I thought you liked me to talk.”

Blue shrugged.

“You don’t agree with what I’m saying?”

When he didn’t respond, she added, “I would’ve thought you’d agree. You seem like a take-charge kind of person. I mean, you took me because you knew I could help you. You choose to be alone because you want to be. Other people have friends and family and a normal life because that’s what they want.” Molly looked at the water and fought to hide her grin. “That’s just not what you want.”

Blue looked away from her, and she could feel the anger rolling off him. Of course he wanted friends. Of course he wanted family. He burned with loneliness so deeply he could thaw this pond if he merely brushed his knuckles against the surface.

Molly hesitated. One beat. Two. Ten.

Then she shook her head and said, “Actually, you know what? My dad is full of crap. That’s exactly what people say when they’re at an advantage. Some people fight for what they want their whole lives and don’t win a single, solitary thing for their efforts.”

Blue looked at her.

“You disagree?”

He shook his head.

Of course he agreed with that. She’d said it for his sake.

She nodded. “My dad’s an asshole.”

Truth.

“You’re never really free of your parents, are you?” she added.

Blue hung his head, and Molly wet her lips. This was the moment. Her throat grew tight, and she struggled to get the words out. What was it that she wanted? What would he give her? She thought of the bird. She hated it. She loved it. She’d die if she had to return to a time before she had company. But last night, as it tucked its head beneath its wing, she thought of those bars. And how she was the one keeping it trapped. It no longer needed to be contained. Its wing was long-healed, she was sure.

But it was hers.

It was hers, hers, hers.

“We should release the bird,” she whispered.

Blue looked at her.

“I want to release the bird.”

Blue looked back at the house as if he could see the small sparrow from their place on the ground. He stared into the distance for a long time, and then rose to his feet. He seemed to contemplate something for more than a moment, and then offered her his gloved hand.

She looked at it, remembered the feel of it around her waist as they danced, and then took it. He led her back to the house, and she watched his back with an imperious smile. She had succeeded in this small feat. It gave her hope that she would ultimately convince him to let her go.

Blue led her down to her room, and she walked toward the birdcage. Her heart ached as the creature gave a pleasant chirp in greeting. Or maybe in fear. She wasn’t sure.

Her hands were almost on the cage when she felt Blue grab her wrist and wind something around it.

She glanced down to see the plastic ties.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He reached to attach the other end to the ceiling, and then reached for her opposite wrist. She held it behind her back.

“You said that…you said—”

He ripped her arm in front of her and bound it as she remembered he’d never said a word. He was more perceptive than she gave him credit for.

“I asked for one little thing!” she roared.

But didn’t her daddy say to never ask? To only vocalize a need and let someone fill that need on his or her own?

Blue walked toward the door, and Molly tried to push down her rage. She tried and failed.

“You fuck!” she screamed. “You selfish fuck! I am not yours to keep here like some dog.”

He looked back at her, and her eyes widened. She reduced the volume of her voice. “I can’t help you unless you give me some wiggle room.”

He closed the door.

“I’m sorry,” Molly yelled. “Please, Blue. Please don’t leave me down here.”

When she heard the door at the top of the stairs slam shut, she went wild. Thrashed against the restraints like freedom lay only a few feet away. Because it did, just beyond that window. She pulled until her wrists opened and bled. Until pain racked her insides and threatened to upend her stomach. She yanked and pulled and stretched like a rabid animal. And when she finally collapsed onto the ground, she cried.

She cried because she needed her Cobain back. The boy who cared about her. The boy who saw her as she was and wouldn’t let her go. She missed him so much her heart dripped like melting wax. Like a candle left burning too long without quiet lips to extinguish the flame.

Where was he now? What was he doing? Was he closer than she realized? So close she could dance with him as the record player turned?

Those questions drove her mad.

She listened for Blue’s footsteps above her, tried to recognize the rhythm of his gait.

Cobain.

Blue.

Cobain.

Blue.

Slowly, she lifted her head to look at the bird. It stared back at her with an eye that held far too much comprehension. She rushed toward the cage, and the bird flew against the bars.

“Shh,” Molly said. “I’m going to help you.”

I’m going to help you, I’m going to help you, I’m going to help you.

The reality of where she was—and the loss of control—was hitting her. Dizziness swept through her head, making the room tilt. She told herself she could manipulate Blue into submission. But was it true? Was it ever true for a single second?