This is a two-part chapter, of course. But the next chapter is easily THE most important one of the entire story, so it might take a little longer than usual for the update. But it will be worth it. I promise.
As she did all of the menial tasks that needed to be done, as she prepared herself for what might happen, she told herself that she was ready. In a way, she was; she had been ready to make him pay for what he had done to her since the first moment he'd touched her. She was ready to make him fall onto his knees, for others to see him as the lowlife that he was. Still, there was something frightening about the task that she had in store.
It was hard, even after that talk she and Corny had had, to convince him that this was the right thing to do. Even though he gave her all of the support he could, she could tell that he was reluctant to do so. Each time she made an addition to the plan, or changed anything, the corners of his mouth would draw into a hesitant frown. She would always pretend not to notice.
Corny had tried everything he could think of to dissuade her. Even if he knew that she needed some form of justice, he didn't want her to have to be the one to serve it to Chip. He made it clear that he didn't believe Amber should step foot back inside that house, and had even asked her, if she was serious about this, if he could wait in her bedroom just in case things got out of control, and she needed him. It had broken her heart to say no, but she needed to be there alone. If Chip saw, or suspected that anything was out of character, he would be gone quicker than a wink. She could not let him escape again.
He hated the idea that Amber couldn't give him more specific plans, and though it worried her as well, she tried not to let on. She had simply told him to wait twenty minutes from the time Link saw Chip enter the house. Twenty minutes was all it would take, she was sure. And though she didn't allow herself to think of it, she was slightly worried that twenty minutes might be a little too much time.
She had taken the last few days as an extreme precaution; had waited patiently outside the house, watching, observing the exact time that Chip got there every night. It was usually just after seven o'clock, so she decided that today, the day she had picked to go through with this orchestrated idea, to show up just around six o'clock. That gave her an hour of preparation, an hour to convince herself that she was strong enough to do this.
Corny had tried to distract her that day, tried to get her to forget about all of this. He tried to tell her they could move, into a different city, a different state even. He was willing to give up everything to keep her from going back to that place. It didn't matter, though. She had told him, quite simply, that no matter how far they ran, Chip would be there. She would always see him, always hear him, always fear him if she didn't do this.
Corny had stopped trying to deter her after that.
He had hugged her before she left for the house, and he'd held on a little longer than she'd expected him to. He'd watched her with dark eyes as she'd slipped out the front door silently, letting her feet carry her down the sidewalk. She couldn't drive there; if he saw a strange car on the street, he might get suspicious. She didn't want to take any chances. She began toward the corner, and pretended not to realize that she could feel Corny's eyes watching her.
By the time she reached the house, her heart was racing and her throat was dry, and not because of the physical exertion of walking. She noticed Link was already staked out in his hiding spot, and for a moment, almost chuckled at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Corny waiting, phone in hand, to call the police; Link hidden meticulously behind garbage cans in an alley way, and she herself simply waiting to be attacked by her worst nightmare. Under any other conditions, these circumstances would have been laughable. However, as she used her key to slip through the front door and into her room, she realized there was nothing humorous about this state of affairs.
She realized it was careless of her, but she didn't exactly know where her mother was. She hadn't seen, or heard from her, since that day at the hospital almost two weeks ago. She hadn't caught sight of her entering, or exiting, the house, during the entire time she'd spent watching. That uncertainty left a knot in her stomach and a lump in her throat. She could only hope that Velma had gotten smart and decided to leave. Something told her that wasn't the case.
She locked herself inside the room that had once been hers, tip-toeing silently around, tracing her fingers over the extravagant furniture that she'd had for years. It was eerily cold in the room, but her face was flushed enough to keep her warm. It was so odd; this room was so different now. Her bed was gone, though she wasn't completely sure where. Her closets were empty, and though the majority of what had used to be their contents were now in the cedar closets in Corny's house, certainly not all of them were. She assumed that Velma must have thrown the rest of her clothes out when she'd left; it was probably her subtle attempt at getting back at her. Well, she could have the clothes. Burn them, tear them, destroy them. Better the clothes than Amber herself.
The room that had once been her sanctuary was just another room now. There were no traces of the thousands of nights she stayed up, practicing for the show the next afternoon. There were no reminiscences of the times when, as a teenager, she would bring Link into this room, and demand to be kissed, and worshipped. Demanded him to treat her the way she thought that she, as a queen, should be treated. God, she had been such a fool.
This room was full of different memories now; ones that had been haunting her for months. Recollections of Chip's heavy grunting, the blistering pain that she had been forced to live with. All of the horrible, disgusting things he had said to her; the names he had called her, that she had started to believe were true. It suddenly seemed that all of her childhood memories, her pre-adolescent years; they were all gone. It seemed that she couldn't remember anything before the first time he had violated her. That girl before that, she'd been a different world; one that had no idea what the word 'reality' meant. All of this, all of her internal monologue, it began to fuel her for the mission that lay ahead. It was encouraging her, telling her not to forget that she'd been devastated beyond any sort of repair and that no matter what she did, or what happened because of this, she was not allowed to back out.
She let herself sit on the stool of her vanity, her hands in her lap. She remembered this place so clearly; it was where she had sat that first morning after, when she'd tried to scrub the blood from her legs. She had convinced herself at that point that her life had been over; that he would be the one to kill her. And maybe he would, but that was a chance she had to take. A chance no one else would ever understand unless they'd been in this situation.
She thought she heard a creak from beyond her bedroom door and sucked her breath in, listening. It could have been anything; the heat, the air. It could have been the sounds of the house stretching, accommodating. Yet, somehow, she knew that wasn't what it was.
She held her breath, listening, and heard the distinct sound of keys jingling. The front door opened, and she felt her blood run cold. What if it wasn't him? What if it was her mother? She'd been so stupid; she hadn't even taken enough precaution to find out where her mother was, or would be right now. She began to panic, and hurried across the room silently, peering down, out her window. She could see Link, still watching carefully. As if on cue, his eyes rose to hers, and he nodded slightly. He was telling her that Chip was inside the house. The countdown had begun, which meant she had to hurry.
She moved away from the window, suddenly feeling weak and sick to her stomach. Amber heard him belch loudly in the living room, and her face contorted into a disgusted sneer. She swallowed hard, moving back across the room, letting her fingers rest quietly on the doorknob that, once she pulled on it, would expose her. She set her jaw, and narrowed her eyes. This was it; there was no turning back now.
She pulled the door open, and stepped into the hallway.
It was time for her to face the devil.