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JESSICA
The window pane is cold,its chill prickling my palm. Outside it, darkness hides the frigid waves crashing against the rocky shore at the end of the vast lawn, but only a few days ago, it was lit up by fireworks launched from a boat out on the water.
I stood in this same spot, my hand cooled by the same window, watching a party I wasn’t invited to, and made the same New Year’s resolution as I do every year.
Live.
We’re barely into January, but Victor’s people have already scrubbed away all signs of the holidays. No lights, no snow, no decorations. Dreaming of a white Christmas here is as useless as waiting for a knight in shining armor to come take me away. All we ever get is icy rain and cold damp weather that sinks into our bones. Just once I want to build a snowman and go sledding. I want what I’ve seen in the movies.
The joy that I remember from the foggy memories I have of holidays with my parents… before.
"Jessicaaa, I don't wanna do homework. I hate math.” Anne gets up from her desk and flops on the bed. Her golden curls bounce as she lands.
I straighten my glasses with a sigh, shaking off the doom and gloom that isn’t going to get me anywhere. I love her to death, but I swear she went to bed a lovable kid at eleven years old, and woke up a surly tween the day she turned twelve. “Come on, you just have one more section to go. Problem eight is just like the second one, see? If you take the denominator and?—”
Anne lets out a groan that sounds like it was ripped from the bottom of her soul. “Maybe if I had something to help me concentrate.” She twists upright, kneeling on the bed in her PJs. “Like coffee.”
“Nice try, sneaky.” I poke her in the side and get a little giggle. Good, the kid is still in there somewhere. “You’re too young for coffee.”
She pouts, with a sly glimmer in her eyes. “Okay, then how about sugar? I hid some cookies in a pot in the kitchen.”
“You’re a sneak! Are you trying to get me in trouble?” I keep my voice light, but Victor doesn’t like it when we leave Anne’s rooms at night and she knows how her father can be. Well, at least a little bit of how her father can be. She’d be shocked if she knew the whole truth.
I don’t particularly want to do fractions either, but if her tutor reports that she’s not getting her work done, I’m the one who will pay the price. The consequences can be brutal, so let’s just say I’m motivated. Much more than Anne, who has more wealth and privilege at her fingertips than most people will see in a hundred lifetimes. It could turn her into a total brat, but she hasa good heart, and she’s still too sheltered to fully understand her situation.
Her eyes lose their sparkle. “No.”
“Then let’s make a deal. If you finish this up before nine, we can go check the kitchen and see if your hidden treasure is still there. Marissa never cooks so I bet they are.” It’s a risk, but a huge one.
“Yes!” She wrinkles her nose at the mention of her father’s newest girlfriend, but sits down and dutifully goes back to work on the assignment she was given for the holiday break.
I pick up a brush and braid her hair while she works, nudging her in the right direction when she gets stuck. Times like this make me almost forget how fragile my own situation is, but I can’t get complacent.
Does that sound dramatic? It isn’t.
Victor Kane, this sweet girl’s father, murdered my parents when I was a little younger than she is now.
Ten years later, I still don't know why. Why he killed them, or why he took me instead of letting me die on the boat with them. It definitely wasn’t mercy. If you ask me, he gets a perverse thrill out of keeping me around like a trophy. When people make him mad, he can point at me and say: “Look. See what I’m capable of? I’ll take everything you love.”
He's a monster, and I have to look him in the eyes every single freaking day. That sounds like it would be the worst part, but it isn’t. What really kills me is that I’m used to it.
I fought as well as a child could. I cried. I tried to run away. None of it worked. The only thing I earned for my trouble was nightmares, and in the end, working for Victor is the only life Iknow. I’ve helped take care of her since she was a toddler, and been her full time Nanny since I was sixteen. Nobody talks about her mother. The rumor is that she tried to get away after she had Anne, and Victor had her removed from the picture.
Permanently.
I believe it. Victor doesn't have family. He has possessions.
“Done!” Anne drops her pencil on her desk and is at the door in a shot. She takes her silk robe off the hook and slips it on over her pajamas. “Let’s go.”
There’s no matching robe for me. I’m wearing plain gray sweats, the only real option I have aside from my regular uniform: a shapeless navy skirt that reaches my calves, with a matching cardigan for warmth over a frumpy white blouse. Sometimes I envy Anne’s bottomless wardrobe, but where would I use it? Most of the time I’m glad to keep a low profile. Being ignored beats the heck out of catching the wrong kind of notice.
“Okay, come on. It’s almost past your bedtime, but if we make this quick we can be back before nine. Quiet like a mouse, right?”
Anne nods with a grin. She puts her finger against her lips and we slip out into the silent hall.
The shortest path to the kitchen means cutting through the open area in the middle of the main house and going past the steaming pool. There’s a shadow of a helicopter on the far wall, cast from the helipad on the roof. Having the building all around us cuts off the bitter January wind coming off the water, but it's still freezing cold. We dash across to the other side and slip through the open glass doors into the large living room. From there, the kitchen is just around the corner.
