25
Evelyn
Ihug my knees to my chest as I rock back and forth in the far corner of Valentine’s office in an effort to comfort myself.
It’s been hours since I was first brought here. I couldn’t figure out how to hide the wall of heads or get into any of the drawers in the desk to find something useful. I’d even tried breaking into the glass shelves lining the walls, but only ended up hurting my hand.
So, I’ve been forcing myself to sit in this corner and stare at the patterns in the oriental rug instead … only now, the random shapes are starting to look like nightmarish things too.
Does Dante know what his father does?
I stop rocking as I suddenly realize that I’ve literally just stumbled on the evidence Dante needs to take his father down.
Wait, those pictures, the darkroom, all that ‘evidence’ that I thought was proof of their psycho ways ... are they not actually the perpetrators?
Are they, in some dark and twisted way, the good guys in all of this?
What if everything they’ve done hasactuallybeen to save my life?
It doesn’t make sense.
I don’t know what to think or do.
I don’t understand. I don’t know who to trust.
Even my own father ... Why did he take money from Valentine?
Why didn’t he recognize me? Was he pretending not to know me on purpose?
Oh my god, did I somehow blow his cover?
My mind spins, and I have to bury my face in my knees as my head begins to ache.
Pull it together, Evelyn. You’re not dead yet.
But I will be if I just sit here and cry.
Gritting my teeth together, I force myself to my feet.
I have to find a way to close that paneled wall. There must be more evidence hidden throughout this place, too. If evidence is what Dante, Seven, and Luci need to take this monster down once and for all, then I’ll find it.
I hurry back over to the wall of heads, once again feeling along the edges for some way to close the panels. When nothing happens, I turn to look around the room again.
My eyes settle on Valentines large chair. Dragging it over, I stand on top of it to reach higher spots along the wall. There has to be some kind of switch or button. Something.
Anything, please!
The painting, Evelyn.
I shake my head at this thought, pushing it out of my head as I step down off the chair and move it to the center portion of the wall.
Again, there are no switches or buttons anywhere.
The painting, Evelyn.
I stare up at the huge painting, but it looks just like I imagine any other completely narcissist’s portrait would look. Sighing, I start to climb of the chair, but somehow end up miscalculating my footing.
I struggle to regain my footing as my arms flail around me. The chair tips forward and I have to reach out to stop it and myself from crashing face-first into the wall, only my hand grabs the edge of the painting instead.