I would have engaged this man in conversation if I weren't who I was, if I were allowed to date freely, if my entire life wasn't under a microscope.
I would have chatted back with him at the surf shop if every interaction I've ever had didn't affect my father and his political career.
I would have given this guy the time of day.
But as I watch him, I realize none of that matters now.
Any explanation I could come up with won't work on this man.
He has a plan, a goal, and I don't know that there's anything I can do to knock that off course.
I have to do something.
I can't just lie here tied to a bed and allow myself to be victimized further by him.
So I do the only thing I can, I smile.
Kill them with kindness.
Isn't that the saying?
Isn't that what you do when someone is mistreating you? Isn’t it supposed to make them reconsider the pain they’re causing?
My smile doesn't garner the same reaction it normally does.
He doesn't grin back.
He reads me like an open book.
He knows I'm being fake, and a tear strikes down my cheek when I realize that I'm not going to be able to fake my way out of this situation.
Chapter 5
Liam
I don't know why I held out hope that she would open her eyes and recognize me, but she doesn't.
It grows increasingly difficult to manage that anger as I watch her.
She's trying to hold on to her grace, despite the tears now flowing freely down her cheeks.
She doesn't wrestle against her restraints.
She's a smart woman.
She understands her reality, and it should make me feel a sense of pride that she's capable of holding on to her dignity despite the situation she's in.
But it's just another irritation to add to the long, growing list of things that are annoying me about her.
I despise fake people and, believe me, I understand the hypocrisy of this entire situation.
I know that I'm fake.
A hundred percent of the time, in every social interaction I have, I’m fake.
I have to be. People would run screaming if they knew the real me, but even amid the fear that's so blatantly clear in her eyes, she's doing her best not to give in to it.
I realize that there's a good possibility that I'm a true psychopath because I swear I can see a hint of curiosity tangled with the terror in her eyes. And isn’t that the worst part about being fake, being unable to show who your true self is to those around you?