Bromley Mansion, First Floor, Hallway
Alison's eyes darted aside, hovering near the staircase. She glanced back at Frankie who seemed to have turned into a statue at hearing the voice downstairs. Then she made to turn on her heel and slam the door.
There was no chance that she'd give her father the satisfaction of seeing her face. She'd be too inclined to rip his head off. After all these days, her pent-up frustration had accumulated to a point where she wasn't even sure she wanted to keep it in check. The incident with Frankie had already emphasized just how unstable she was.
She was stopped midway by Frankie's hand that gripped her wrist. She almost twisted it out of its socket, as she was pulled back over the threshold. Snarling under her breath, she fixed stormy eyes on him, all but challenging him to release her.
In silence, he raised the previously discarded handcuffs to her eyelevel. His head tilted to the side just fractionally but the message was obvious enough. She didn't say anything but her posture relaxed in his grasp as sudden wariness crawled into her bones. As much as she would love to provoke him here, now, in front of her father, she wouldn't risk her newfound freedom.
He didn't ridicule her though, only tucked the gadget away and spoke, in a voice low enough to pass only between them, "You stay untied but you'll behave. Don't pull any stupid manoeuvres. Do you understand?"
He was in soldier-mode now. She could see that in his use of clipped, authoritative sentences that flowed out of his mouth in the way he'd probably had them drilled in.
She nodded dumbly. It's not like she had a variety of options to choose from. What else was there to say?
His eyes darted to the ground floor, then back to her face. It almost appeared as though he needed encouragement or, perhaps, her consent to face the man. She surprised herself by reaching forward to gently uncurl his fingers from around her wrist and giving his palm a subtle squeeze as they dropped away.
Their eyes clashed for a second. She could see in his look, just in that short moment, that he wanted to speak about everything that had happened. He wanted to explain as much as he wanted to know. About her, about her reasons, about the meaning of it all.
He swallowed visibly, then pulled himself together and gestured for her to take the lead. She complied. After all, it was inevitable that her father should demand to see her and if Frankie got into trouble, that could only mean she would suffer as a result too. At least that was what she told herself. Never would she admit that maybe there was a tiny soft spot inside her for him. This boy turned man, who both rejected and embraced his humanity, whom she found repulsive and fascinating alternatively and whose presence suddenly was her only form of support.
The stairs felt like an open mouth that swallowed her up and pushed her into the lair of the dragon. Frankie followed three steps behind her and she caught herself moving in sync with his footsteps as though together, they would intimidate Charles Bromley. Wishful thinking.
She spotted him immediately, hovering in the dining room on their left. The closer she got, the more reluctant her body became. She could feel herself slowing down as she caught sight of the man. The slosh of liquid against crystal signified that he was holding a drink.
The overhead light flicked on and they were bathed in white light that had father and daughter sizing another up across the room. The tension filled the space to the brim. The vibes felt were anything but pleasant. Alison would have sworn that when her father eventually looked away, it was not out of interest for his glass of bourbon. She felt smug that this technique of staring others down seemed to improve the more she put it to use.
Charles Bromley made the first move after it had sunk in that she would not exchange words with him.
"Ali, sweetheart, you look much better," he noted, coming closer to the pair.
The urge to suffocate him with his tie snuck into her fingers and she bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself. "Don't pretend you worried," she snarked back instead, crossing her arms over her chest.
His hand was on her shoulder then and she recoiled. The vampire visibly heaved a sigh at her behaviour and for the first time since his arrival transferred his attention to Frankie.
"Why don't you offer Mrs. Fletcher a hand, Frankie?"
Her father demanding to be alone in a room with her could not end well for either of them.
She didn't watch him leave but from the rustle of his uniform she could distinguish the reluctance with which he retreated. He probably guessed that this was a risky decision, knowing his prisoner's explosive behaviour. A moment later, the fact that she could already pick up his mannerisms without laying eyes on him, scared her. Had she really made such an effort to observe him so closely?
The vampire that called himself her father retracted his hand from her but she didn't drop her stiff posture. He should damn well know the extent to which he disgusted her. As a vampire, she now had the ability to hold this grudge for eternity. He could try all her wanted but there was no chance of redeeming himself in her eyes. He'd ordered her to die against her will, what kind of father thought that a blessing on his child?
"Would you like a drink?"
She shook her head no to his question, determined not to respond to any form of hospitality. He didn't offer her a disappointed reaction but settled into one of the leather chairs that surrounded the table. She preferred looking down at him from where she stood.
His laced fingers tapped against the glass, causing little ripples to move over the surface. "I thought that ten days would be sufficient for you to accept the decision we made for you"
It was like he was asking to be bashed until he bled at her feet. She inhaled deeply in an effort to contain her outrage at his indication that her transformation had been a mutual interest. This fight could only be won with outsmarting words.
"I don't remember being involved in making that decision"
A phony smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and grew larger. His eyes became aglow with something reminiscent of pity. He was mocking her again, treating her as though she would never measure up to his standards of intelligence. He sloshed the drink around in his glass and spoke with a reverence that could be expected from a holy man's prayers.
"Honey, you still don't see it. Look at where you are today. Compared to a month ago. Look at what I've created for you. Isn't it obvious? I saved you from an existence that only brought you grief. You know best that there was nothing out there for you as a human"
He didn't understand her just as much as she was ignorant of his thoughts. This lecture with its rehearsed words wasn't going to go anywhere.
"You're the blind one" she interrupted, "You pretend to be a father, which we both know you're not. If you were, if you wanted to save me, you would have ordered me killed because that's what I would I have chosen"
"No parent could bear to murder their child," he replied and it almost appeared that the words pained him. She didn't let herself be fooled, even if the thought was genuine.
Her statement was soft but full of blame, "I'm dead, Dad"
Bromley took a swig from his drink, averting his gaze. Nothing about him indicated that he felt remorse. Rather, from Alison's point of view, it was merely a pause on his part to be able to change the subject in his favour. She wouldn't let him.
"And it doesn't just stop with me. Those people I was with that night, the ones that were family to me while I was gone, all of those you said you couldn't help, are dead. You didn't save them because actually, you couldn't care less. They're inferior. They're cattle to you because you farm them like animals every day. The only reason you had me changed is because you're selfish"
He didn't think to bless her with eye contact so show his attention but he lowered his empty glass. She realized she had moved during her speech and closed the distance between them as though she could hammer her words into his skull. Yet the force behind them appeared to bounce off his cloak of indifference.
"You're selfish because you wanted me to be part of what you think is the perfect existence. You wanted a vampire daughter to show off to the world and share your great life since your wife can't. You know I hate what it has made you. You know I would rather be dead than live the way you do. You made that decision for me and then you threw me into a house that I will never call home with a person you knew I would try to break away from. Don't ever tell me that I should be grateful for it"
The older vampire slowly leaned back in his chair and smoothed his hand over a random crease in his suit. She watched his fingers, white and smooth for their age, glide over the material. If nature had not been denied its regular process on her father's body, they would bear wrinkles and would have grown calloused.
Simply that glimpse solidified her resolution. She had wanted to mature and age and eventually return to the earth as her body died. Immortality had never and would never be an attraction.
He spoke distinctly in a monotone, "I see that you've been thinking about your situation"
"You didn't expect me to fall into your arms. I made it clear that I'll fight this the entire way. So you can let me leave or deal with this every single time," she stated, her voice hard.
There was silence between them. She had said all that needed to be said. Her father didn't speak. Each of those seconds ticking by confirmed that her speech had thrown him off balance, even if he expertly masked any reaction. Finally, he dropped his hands onto the tabletop.
"You need time," was all he offered her before rising from his chair.
"I need you to leave me alone," she retorted without budging from her spot.
It was almost a tender second in which he searched her face and she met his calculating gaze with her determined one. She knew what she wanted and she wouldn't bend to his will any longer. In the civilised world he pretended to belong to, there was no reason for him to imprison her since she was an adult with the right to lead an independent life. She had a nostalgic sensation as she recalled the stubborn fights she had put up in her childhood. Her human childhood. It was truly reminiscent of previous father-daughter moments they had shared in a different period of life.
"I've missed you"
His words hung in the silence as he walked away and she didn't want to listen to them. She'd convinced herself from their first encounter barely a week ago that everything he told her was a lie. He used words as a mechanism to manipulate, deceive and confuse others and after so many years of separation, she could not identify the genuine ones. If there were any.
He was a vampire and had been for ages. She wasn't even certain that he could have missed her in such an emotional sense.
The temperature in the room must have dropped because she felt a chill run down her back.
As she ran a hand over her bare skin, it dawned on her that he had not mentioned the bruising that still covered her. He must have taken notice. Despite the long-sleeved sweatshirt and pants, they were clearly visible on her neck where the bruising was deepest and the cuts from glass shards on her face could not have healed entirely in the past hours.
Perhaps it looked more self-inflicted than anything and he'd drawn his own conclusions. She could have easily thrown herself into the glass table on purpose. She could have attempted to commit suicide by slitting her neck. Who knew what he thought about her? After poisoning herself it surely seemed that she was capable of anything.
Frustrated, she knocked the train of thought away and focused on expanding her awareness. This was definitely a nifty gift that came with immortality. Eavesdropping was made so much easier without giving away her presence.
The noises were dulled by the distant purr of the vacuum cleaner that now zigzagged through the first floor but she caught onto threads of conversation happening in the hallway behind the kitchen. She could pick out nothing concrete but she could imagine that Frankie was receiving his newest orders after she'd just made her opinions very clear.
It struck her that this was the opportunity. An opening where her father and guard were both occupied, where there was enough noise being made to cover her and she had the advantage of sunlight. She wasn't afraid to burn. She knew for a fact that she didn't possess the phobia of it that older vampires did. If she happened to be caught on her way out, she could bluff her way through by threatening to leap into the sun.
Not a perfect plan by any means but this was her one shot. She was a fool for having wasted precious minutes already by standing around. Spontaneity could easily be her new forte with all the crazy stunts she had been pulling recently.
Barefoot she ghosted down the hallway, distancing herself from the kitchen and heading towards the door that led to the staircase into the garage. She'd made sure to check out the house during her stay. The noises from upstairs masked her footfalls to the extent she needed and she kept her ears especially tuned for any indication of a follower.
The door was nestled in a niche that served as the perfect vantage point for any attacker to back her into a corner but she ignored the what-ifs. This was risky, this was definitely not going to be easy and she was wholly unprepared. Best to tackle this challenge head on. The vital step was face to face with her now. She clasped the doorknob with a deep intake of breath and twisted.
It took only a heartbeat for the installed mechanisms to lock into place and then her eardrums were pierced by the screech of sirens. She had triggered the daylight alarm-system. She gave the knob another vicious twist and found that it had bolted itself from the outside.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no. It was a continuous scream that shot through her mind and had her flying out of control again.
Thoroughly frustrated was the bare minimum of what she was now. She backed away from the door only to raise her heel and kick at it. Once, twice, working herself into frenzy. The resounding ring told her that this was a door coated with metal on the other side.
The onslaught of sounds was pounding into her head and combined with her attempts to kick the solid door down, leaving her somewhat dazed. It didn't surprise her when arms grabbed her around the centre, lifting her away from the ground to push her against a wall. They were familiar arms and the sensation was just as reminiscent. With her face against the plaster and her body immobilised against it, she kept struggling. It was the only rebellion possible.
She wrestled against the hand that yanked her wrists behind her back but lost against the trained grip of the soldier. The metal felt like a branding around her wrists as it snapped shut.
The ringing in her ears stopped just as Frankie released her from where she was being crushed against the wall to have her standing in front of him.
"You should have listened to me," he hissed and it stung because his undertone spoke of contempt. So much for any earlier concern. She jabbed back in silence by thrusting her foot into his kneecap.
She couldn't be bothered with an answer. She didn't want to have to justify anything. Especially since her father was approaching. He must have shut off the alarm system. Instinctively, she raised her chin in defiance but turned her head away. Looking at him would only remind her of how he had reprimanded her as a child. But he didn't speak to her at all. He didn't acknowledge her whatsoever.
"I'll trust you'll take care of this, Frankie," He stepped past the two of them, clapping the young man on the shoulder as he departed, "Keep up the good work"
With precise ease he shifted an empty picture frame aside to tap a code into the pad behind. Then he opened the door Alison had just futilely attempted to unlock and made to head down to the waiting car. She couldn't believe it. This was ridiculous.
"That's it?" she yelled at his back, ignoring the sudden dig of Frankie's nails into her lower arm as a warning to keep her mouth shut, "Am I that big an embarrassment to you that you can't even face me to tell me off? You come to tell me I need more time and then take off again? You think that makes you a father?"
Charles Bromley stopped just over of the doorframe. She knew that was probably the most childish response she'd ever given but she was sick of silences and ignoring another. She was also sick of crawling after everyone for an answer.
However, he once again treated her outburst as though it had fallen on deaf ears and addressed Frankie.
"Get her to calm down. I hope there will be some form of progress made by the end of the week, "
She began to feel like a mental patient. Every horror movie she'd seen that involved asylums always featured a protagonist whose screams went unheard. Or ignored.
Bromley left without another glance back. As soon as the motor of the car roared to life downstairs she simply let go. She slumped to the carpet with nothing stopping her. She had ruined everything all over again, all by herself.
She didn't know how to deal with herself anymore. She simply didn't. She wanted comfort and solitude and freedom and guidance and love and hatred and acceptance and death all at the same time. She wanted the easy way out while knowing there was none.
Eventually, it was the concierge who broke the trance by wobbling down the stairs with the vacuum cleaner in hand. The clink of the machine on the marble tiles of the foyer had the man behind her stirring and reaching down to drag her back to her feet.
"Quit moping," he told her as he walked along the corridor behind her. At this point in time she didn't appreciate the bluntness, "It's not going to do you any good"
"Like you know," she replied.
"I do," he affirmed, marching her back up the stairs. She ignored the comment.
"What did he tell you to do to me?" she asked instead, meeting his eyes in honest wariness. Judging by her father's shrewdness, she wouldn't put anything past him. He always had a plan in the back of his mind and it wasn't hard to guess that this time round, Frankie had a major role to play.
"Change your mind"
Here he was mimicking her father with these cryptic phrases. Either she was going crazy or there was an impeding disaster building. Both of which involved her in a negative way. She played along though. The more she knew, the easier she could adjust.
"Torture isn't going to work. I've been there," she supplied, skipping a step to stand facing him at the top of the stairs.
He sized her up and flashed a tight-lipped smile. "I don't think anybody has suffered every type of torture yet"
That didn't sound good. It made sense to her that her father would hire somebody so unpredictable and simultaneously loyal to supervise her. "Enlighten me"
"Order of silence," he shrugged, climbing the last steps so she had to step back.
Another possibility took form in her head. She studied him closely as he entered her room and inspected it, like every other afternoon, for objects that could be potentially harmful if she attempted self-injury. "You told him, didn't you?"
That had him giving her his full attention on the spot. His hand stilled while reaching for the closet. "What?"
"What we did"
He let out a little laugh, accompanied by a rapid glance to the open door. "No"
She circled him to rest her back against the furniture he'd been about to open. "He's not blind. We're both bruised. If I was meant to be subdued all day, how on earth would you explain me beating you up head to toe?"
His eyes were huge and the gold was intensely bright in this proximity. "There are a hundred possibilities," his voice gained a suspicious edge, "What did you say?"
"Nothing. But I know sleeping with your boss' daughter isn't in the job description. I also know how much your job means to you," she whispered, "So if you don't want to end up out there with others on the streets, you're going to tell me what he told you. It's only between us anyway. Then I'll make sure not to let my tongue slip the next time he comes"
He'd gone white in the dimness and his eyebrows rose higher and higher with every word coming from her mouth. This was surely not what he had expected after the lapse of composure downstairs. She knew how to play her cards after all.
To her surprise, he laughed. Right in her face. Then he moved in, still chuckling, leaving only minimal space between their bodies as to project a sense of claustrophobia.
"You want to know what he asked me to do to you?" he repeated her demand, ghosting a finger over the purple colouring on her throat. Her cuffs became trapped against her body as she reflexively bent away from the touch.
And in her moment of distraction, he leaned down and pressed their lips together.