The Rose Diaries Ch. 13

He spun on his heels wildly as he turned in every which way looking for an escape. It was everywhere. He could escape into the trees, run across the road, or simply run into the open traffic and flag down someone. He was so close he could taste it. He grinned madly as he took a step away from the car as all the fury, rage, and ecstasy began to pump through his body fueling his sudden egress from this hell.

But as he took a step away, memories flooded back into his mind. He remembered the way sun on his back as he screamed with joy in the central gardens of the manor. He remembered the ground underfoot as he sprinted towards the gate.

It was a trick. She was tricking him again.

He sighed deeply turning back around and making his way back towards the car. He groaned loudly before throwing his hands up, shaking his head, and entered the car again. He continued to voice his frustration as he took his seat beside an extremely stunned Mrs. Tyson.

"My god," She whispered under her breath. "You're a Lucy." She exclaimed.

"A-fucking-what?" He groaned burying his head in his hands.

"I will ignore that. You came back. You should've run but you came back. You're a Lucy." She laughed.

"Great. Another fun name for you to call me by." Her rolled his eyes where she couldn't see.

"Oh no, you're still Doll. It just means that you're better than I expected." She chuckled.

"If I had a fucking nickle-"

"Lucys' live Doll." He shakily removed his hands as he stared at her in her eyes. She was smiling once again. "The other's never got to take a third step."

---

They had arrived minutes later. Mrs. Tyson's odd façade of both indifference and superiority never gave up as she quietly went back to her book stopping only to chide him for scratching at his face, arms, or scowling. She handed him a pair of pastel pink high heels to put on. She had removed them from a small duffel bag he hadn't seen before. Even handing him a small heart shaped clutch to carry with him as well.

There was something odd about the accessories as he took them from her. He knew them intimately. He knew that his shoes were six-inch heels with a one-and-half inch platform. As he slipped them on, he couldn't help but feel a bit at ease. His loss of balance never came. Instead, he felt almost at home in them.

It was a common rest stop area. There was a large gas station of which denizens of the road filled in and out of constantly. The air reeked of gasoline, frustration, and with a hint of the sweet smell of excitement. From beside the limousine, an family of five popped out of a white mini-van. The mother, a short red-haired woman with bags under her eyes carrying an bag full of discarded snack wrappers and beverage containers, gave him a small smile as she hurried to the backseat to clear away all the discarded mess.

"Can we get some candy?" A pair of children from her side tugged at her sweatpants impatiently.

"No, sweethearts. No candy before lunch okay?" She put on her best sweet nurturing voice, but he could still see the exhaustion in her eyes. A middle-aged man briskly walked over to her side. He was tall with a healthy tan complexion. He too had the same trademark bags.

"So, I'm gonna take Ronnie, Sarah, and Jamie inside. I'll save you a seat?" he gave her a small peck on the cheek with a warm smile.

"Okay, I'm going to just quickly clean up and I'll pop right inside." The mother offered with a quiet voice.

"Don't stress about it. We'll be there before you know it." He gave her a small pat on the back before turning his attention to the pair of children.

"Alright, Mommy will be right with us. So why don't we-"A young girl with long red hair and wide awe-filled eyes tugged on his skirt.

"You look just like Sarina!" She smiled lifting her doll up so that he could see it. It was plain doll dressed in a shiny pink dress with long flowing blonde hair decorated with little butterfly wings. "Are you a princess?" He stared down at her with shock on his face. Any and all attempts at language simply failed him as he balked at her sweet question.

"No need to be so embarrassed!" Mrs. Tyson laughed emerging from his side. "She's just a little shy is all."

"I'm sorry!" The mother offered a hurried apology. "She's just in that princess phase and-"

"It's okay." Peter muttered as he smiled back at the little girl. "I'm a princess but I'm currently in hiding so don't tell anyone, okay?" The words tasted odd to him. But it felt right to say. He didn't want to hurt this little girl. It made no difference whether or not he played along.

"Promise!" The girl giggled sealing her lips quickly. She skipped her way over to her father as he attempted to herd the three children to the large diner attached to the gas station.

"That was oddly sweet of you." Mrs. Tyson gave him a look of amusment as she smirked to herself.

"Fuck off." He growled towards her. The mother gave a look of concern before Mrs. Tyson laughed it off.

"Oh, be thankful you won't have to deal with teenagers for such a long time!" She laughed as the mother joined in.

"Every day!" She cried bending over to pick up filth on the floor of the backseat of her van.

"Pleasure meeting you. Come along, Doll." Mrs. Tyson gave a small wave as she escorted him towards the diner. On a bright neon lit sign, it said, "Good N' Quick!"

He walked with a stride that was alien to him. His hips swayed back and forth with each step as he kept in perfect sync with his own movements. He gripped the bag tight in his right hand as he gently bit his lower lip. He knew that there was no one watching him. He knew that even in this disgusting bright and revealing outfit people had better things to do than to look his way. He knew that even in this crowded bustling place that no one would be looking at him.

"Nervous, are we?" Mrs. Tyson's voice pierced his thoughts and jolted him in the present.

"N-No." He nearly whispered.

"Then straighten your back. No one wants a girl who slouches." She growled pushing past him and holding open the door. He begrudgingly entered as the door swung shut behind him. He could feel eyes upon him. Scanning his form with a hungry gaze. A gaze that made his body tingle. Like thousands of tiny invisible spiders had been set loose upon his flesh. Crawling, writhing, and climbing over each other in a mad frenzy that made his senses go berserk.

He hated it.

He scratched softly at his chin before he heard Mrs. Tyson scoff from behind him. The restaurant was plain and for the most part unmemorable. There was a counter at which one could sit as a waitress flitted between the table and the kitchens with a notepad in hand. Another waitress who buzzed about the tables and booths nearest to the back with a smile and a laugh making sure that everyone was happy. A television mounted high above the counter in a corner displayed the baseball game that was too quiet to even hear. A man standing in a suit stood watch nearby glancing only at the game and the waitresses with a hard glare. Peter's discomfort only grew as he looked around.

A young woman behind a counter gave them a short greeting, but Peter's eyes never drifted from the television. Until Mrs. Tyson forced him forward and he obeyed with a heavy sigh. She ushered them to a nearby booth and laid out two menus which Mrs. Tyson was extremely quick to snatch up. He sat down as far into the corner as he possibly could letting his head rest gently against the rough wall.

"I like your outfit!" The woman beamed as Peter fought ever urge not to slam his head through the wall and other side.

"Thank you." Came out instead.

"Would you-"

"Water for the table, a hamburger, medium-rare, and french fries for me. She will just have the water. Please and thank you." Mrs. Tyson barked as she barely looked at the menu.

"Sure thing, I'll be right back." The woman took the menus from Mrs. Tyson as she quickly walked away.

"Give me your silverware, Doll." She ordered him as soon as she had left earshot. He glanced down at the still rolled napkin sitting beside him. He placed his hand gently on it before pushing it across to her.

"Good." She smiled moving it next to her. "Don't want you to get any ideas."

"I hope you choke on your food." He growled.

"Not likely. I wish I could've kept you in the car. But I don't trust you not being at my side currently. I've also been told by Mandi you have a rather interesting dietary concerns, so I thought I'd oblige."

"Who the fuck is Mandi?"

"It's my name for little Amanda. Sorry for the confusion." She chuckled. Her apology was hollow and empty.

"Noted." He folded his arms. "You know Miss K. too?"

"Hmm?" She tapped her finger on her chin as she focused on his words before nodding. "Katelynn? Of course, I know her. Cute girl. I always loved how sweet she was." Peter balked at her words. Miss K.? Sweet? Were they talking about the same person?

"So, Miss A. told you to starve me?"

"Of course." Mrs. Tyson smiled. "Well, that's not the exact phrasing or message. But yes."

"She tell you to kill me?" Her smile faded nearly instantly as a cold displeasure overtook her once more.

"If she wanted you dead then you wouldn't be here, would you? She wants something from you. Heaven knows what, but she refuses to do anything of note."

"In terms of torture?" He spat back at her. He crossed his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his seat fully.

"In terms of discipline." She folded her hands on the table as the waitress returned with two glasses of water. She placed it down on the table and eyed the both of them over.

"Anything else you ladies might need?" Peter bit his tongue at her addressing him.

"No, dear. But thank you anyway." Mrs. Tyson quickly answered.

"Then I'll be right back with your food!" She gave another small smile as she hurried off.

"What's stopping me from telling her? What's stopping me from standing on this table and yelling that you kidnapped me."

"If you'd like to do that then nothing. But I believe if you had the capacity for such a risky move you would have ran earlier. It'd be out of character for you to make a fuss here."

"You don't know me." He growled. "You don't know anything about me."

"On the contrary, I know quite a lot little girl." She slid the glass of water closer to him. "Though, that's pointless to explain."

"Read it in a file?" He rolled his eyes as he picked up the up the glass.

"I did. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you. How in the world did you manage to fail English twice? You speak the language." She smirked. Peter clenched his fist in his lap taking slow sips of his drink in hopes it would quench his anger and slake his thirst.

He had failed English twice. But it wasn't his reading comprehension, his lack of mastery over grammar or spelling. It wasn't his lack of trying or his inability to grasp the material. It had been one year since his mother had passed. It had been one year since he gave up doing anything academic. Not to mention his own anger and frustration at his ever-failing home life. His teacher, Mrs. Lockheed, was a disgusting witch who hated him ever since he darkened her classroom door. She never cut him slack nor accepted his excuses.

It was because he got her precious debate club shut down. But perhaps, per-fucking-haps, they shouldn't have been embezzling club funds from the school. Maybe they shouldn't have threatened him to look the other way when he found their stash in an old locker. Maybe they shouldn't have said the one sentence that set him off. "Oscar would've been cool with it". Peter was not his older brother. He was not Oscar Baker.

"It's not about the language." Was all he offered in his defense.

"Your parents never hit you, did they?"

"My parents never raised a fucking hand to me." He spat back.

"Ah, that explains it. 'Spare the rod' and all that." He took another sip of his water as she smirked back.

"Yes, that's the reason I'm like this," He rolled his eyes. "Definitely not the fact that I haven't a memory of my last meal and just spend god knows how long tied up in a trunk."

"Sarcasm is unbecoming of you. It's improper, impolite, and rude. Mandi needs to teach you manners, I see. I'm certainly not going to do it for her." The waitress returned quickly setting down Mrs. Tyson's food in front of her.

"Enjoy!" She folded her hands behind her back as she walked away quickly.

"Sweet girl." Mrs. Tyson smiled. "Quite adept at service with a smile. You could take away a few lessons from her, Doll."

"You sound just like Miss A."

"As I should." She chuckled examining her plate. She grimaced as she took a bite of her burger as if it were made of ash instead of cow. "Little Amanda used to cling to my leg. People even mistook me for her mother at times! In public, at parties, whenever the Stones had to make their public appearances. It didn't matter, Mandi preferred me. I taught her, her first few words as a baby. I was there when she took her first few steps. I was there for her and even as a young woman, I'll still be there for her." She took another bite with a smaller grimace.

"So, you're doing all this for a favor?" Peter ignored her rant. He couldn't give a damn about how she felt about Miss A. He just needed more info. He just needed more than a hunch to break through her uncaring and unfeeling exterior. As sad as it was, he needed to get to know Mrs. Tyson.

"Of sorts, yes. That is a good way to put it."

"So, if I know anything about Miss A. I know she wants me to suffer. So where are you taking me?"

"I already told you, didn't I? I'm not going to answer such questions." She scoffed.

"But you've been answering my questions so far. Why not just answer that one?" He pried to the best of his ability.

"I do not need to justify my every action to a doll." He cringed at her insult as he sunk deeper into his seat.

"Miss K. played a game with me once. She'd ask me a question and then I'd answer and then I got to ask something. Could we try doing that?"

"A game." She scoffed. "You want to play games with me? No, sorry, that's not happening."

"Isn't that what you do? Just play games?" He sighed in frustration. "Because I'm sick-"

"Quiet." She shook her head. "How do you see yourself?"

"As a prisoner being held hostage in public and starving slowly to death?"

"I figured as much. To be honest, I have no need for games. I've been away from Blackstone proper for such a long time. Protecting our interests across the globe. Meeting men of power, wealth, and prestige to sell them on our services. I want to assure you that I am not one to play games. I have no interest, no desire, no intention to sit here and waste my time with you. You will sit still, sit quiet, and do as you are told. Or I'll leave you here."

"Okay, cool, have fun with your life. See ya." He rolled his eyes so hard that he worried they'd fly from his skull. His long pink nails dug deep into his arms.

"Take stock in your surroundings, dear. You are in a dress that barely hides your rear. You see the way these men look at you? I'll leave you bound behind this establishment for those men to take advantage of. It won't be long either until you feel one penetrate you and fill you to the brim with his seed. You will satisfy their cravings. Those men will simply take it from you. Truckers and travelers love a warm hole after all. Especially one as pretty as you are." He chuckled at her comment.

"You're threatening me with rape? That's a dumb threat. That's basically my life if I continue to go with you."

"You are not meant to be used by poor men. You are not meant to be taken next to a dumpster. You are meant for greater things and for greater men. Men without disease or lack of purpose. Do you understand?"

"No. No, I don't." He narrowed his eyes at her. "I am meant for my own things. I control my own fate."

"How often have you rehearsed that? Now, how often did it come true?" He grit his teeth at her retort but he lacked a response to give her that wasn't a simple insult. "Exactly, Doll."

He had enough of her. Enough of her voice, her smug arrogance, or her lack of care. He flared his nostrils as he continued to stare hard into her cold dark eyes. She didn't seem bothered by his rage. Just picked at her plate with dissatisfaction. He felt his rage bubbling to the surface. He felt his fury begin to leak out.

"How was everything?" The waitress bound back up to the table. She looked out of breath and exhausted.

"Wonderful, would you mind bringing the check?" Mrs. Tyson dabbed lightly at her lips with her napkin before sliding the plate closer to the edge of the table.

"Of-" He lunged forward and took hold quickly of the waitresses forearm. She gasped in shock and fear as he stared directly into her eyes. His full of rage and sadness. Hers full of surprise and horror.

"Please help me," He begged her as tears formed in his eyes. "My name is Peter Baker and I'm being held captive by this woman for over two months. Please, help me."

"My, my." Mrs. Tyson leaned forward as the mask of indifference began to crack. "Is that truly what you want to do, Doll?"

"I don't," The waitress stammered. "Let go of my arm."

"Please!" He pleaded with her. "Please believe me!"

"Let go!" She spoke again, this time more forcefully.

"Let her go, Doll." Mrs. Tyson narrowed her eyes. "She's just trying to do her job. Did you forget your medicine?"

"My medicine? Fuck off. Miss, please!" He blinked away his tears sniffling quietly to himself. He felt the tiniest jolt of pain course through his body. The collar hadn't activated yet the pain was all too similar. The waitress tore her arm from him and backed away slowly.

"I'm so sorry." Mrs. Tyson lip quivered. "I just, I try to get through this. She has these delusions. It's awful and it's been tearing our family apart. I thought the fresh air would help but..." She sniffled.

The waitress remained still.

"Forget the check," Mrs. Tyson spoke wiping what appeared to be tears from her eyes and loudly clearing her throat. "Here." She pulled a roll of bills from her purse and placed it on the table. "That's more than enough. Let's go." She stood up suddenly.

"She's...I mean he's..." The waitress stammered.

"It's alright. When she gets like this it's hard to convince her otherwise." Mrs. Tyson grabbed hold of his arm and yanked quickly to his feet. He had no strength to resist her. Not for lack of trying. All of his physical strength had faded from him since the last time he needed it. He was struggling against her grip, but she still managed to force him from the booth and out of the restaurant. With each step, he could feel her tears dropping against his neck. She didn't say any words, taunts, or anything. She just pushed him further and further towards the car. The waitress did not follow.

"Bartholomew?" She called out suddenly. The driver's side door opened, and a man quickly exited. He was a younger looking man but certainly older than him with reddish-brown hair slicked back neatly and wearing an impeccable black suit with a bright red tie. He had a stoic look that radiated focus in his eyes as he gazed upon them. He gave a small nod as he watched them approach

"Ma'am?"

"Did you get gas?"

"I did." He nodded once more. His voice was deep yet smooth as silk. There was no anger, frustration, or anything in his voice.

"Then we're leaving. Quickly." She told the man as she threw open the back door and locked eyes with him. Her mascara was running down her cheeks and the look on her face was nothing but pure disdain for him. She muttered something under her breath, but the wind stole her words before he could hear it. She tossed him in and entered after him slamming the door shut behind her. He heard the engine start as he felt the car begin to lurch into motion. In a flash, Mrs. Tyson held a phone to her ear as she continued to stare at him.