Siri, delete Best Friend from contacts

Arya:

A few hours ago, I woke up with a throbbing headache and a bad mood. I was angry and hurt beyond belief that I'd be stupid enough to trust the boys. But I quashed those feelings down and focused on getting out of this bloody mess- preferably without a husband in the end.

At first, they placed me in the living room and left the door unlocked while I was unconscious. Bad idea. I slipped out and made it about half-way down the driveway, before I was dragged back, kicking and screaming.

They then shoved me back in the living room, locking the door behind them. But that didn't stop me. I used a hairpin to pick the lock, but got a nasty surprise when I found out that there were two guards outside. I managed to knock one of them out, but the second one managed to subdue me. He looked pretty tired to be honest. I hope he gets a raise for this.

Finally, they locked me in a room on the third floor. The room had been stripped of any weapons I could use- leaving just a bed and an empty wardrobe.

They don't even open the door to give me food- just pass it through a cat flap. Whenever they came, however, I screamed some extremely colourful insults that they rudely ignored. I tried everything- reverse psychology, blackmail, threats and begs. But it was all in vain- they refused to let me out.

Soon, I'd tired myself out. I crawled over to the bed and slipped between the sheets, promising myself to rain hell on my kidnappers once I woke up.

X

"Wakey, wakey my dear daughter!"

My hand shot up and wrapped around the person's throat on instinct. I opened my eyes and blinked the sleepiness away then scowled when I saw who it was.

"I am not your daughter." I snarled, squeezing my hand even tighter. Timothy just smirked, seemingly unaffected. He pushed my arm away from my throat with a surprising amount of strength.

"Well, your mother married me, so that makes me your father. Might as well call me 'dad' now."

My jaw clenched and I pushed myself up, glaring at Timothy right in the eye. "You will never replace my real dad."

"And pray tell, where is your dear father now?" If he doesn't wipe that sh*t-eating grin off his face, I will no longer be responsible for my actions.

"Six feet under with a bullet lodged in his brain that your dear wife put there." I snapped back; my face blanker than a sheet of paper. But internally, I was fighting to rein in my emotions.

A faint scowl flickered across Timothy's expression. "You have no evidence that she did that- it was disproved in court. The real killer is in jail."

My jaw set and I looked at him with cold, dead eyes. "She didn't pull the trigger, but she sure as hell loaded and aimed the gun." A small smirk lifted my lips. "Think about it, Timothy, if she was willing to kill the guy she had three kids with and known him for around sixteen years, what will she do when she's bored with you? The guy with no fortune who managed to weasel his way into our lives' five years ago."

Timothy breathed heavily, his eyes darting around the room. I leaned back, knowing my words had gotten to him. He may be quite smart, but he was also gullible and very insecure- especially when it came to my mother. After all, a relationship built on lies can only end badly.

I'd sowed the seed of doubt, now I just had to water and watch it grow.

"Darling?" Mot- Celia's voice floated up the stairs. A few minutes later, she appeared in the doorway- looking as immaculate as always. She wore a black pencil skirt and blazer with a blood-red silk shirt tucked in. Her hair was tied into a high bun and her heels clacked against the floor as she walked over to me. I resisted the urge to lower my head as she stared at me disapprovingly.

"What's going on?" She asked. "Why are you taking such a long time?"

Timothy's gaze flickered to mine, then back to Celia's. He forced a smile and straightened, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles on his trousers. "Nothing is wrong. Arya is just being... difficult, that's all."

"Come on, child." Celia growled, grabbing my arm and yanking me out of the covers. I stumbled, but she didn't let me recover- half-dragging, half-carrying me out of the room.

Now is my chance! I thought, thrashing about madly. I shouted loudly for help, my voice reverberating through the empty hallways. I passed many pictures that depicted what the world saw- a happy, loving family. Oh I wish.

"QUIET GIRL!" Celia suddenly pulled me round in front of her. Her hand raised and she struck me, her rings dug harshly in my skin.

Tears sprung to my eyes- more from the shock of her doing something like this than the actual pain. An inaudible gasp passed my lips and I looked at the frame hanging on the right wall. Dad was holding a baby Jacob in his arms, while me and Marigold stood next to him, laughing at some long-forgotten joke. Celia had an arm wrapped around Dad's waist, a look of pure love and adoration on her expression as she gazed up at her husband.

"What happened to you?" I whispered, turning my head slowly to face Celia. I gazed into her blue eyes and flinched slightly on seeing nothing but hatred in there.

"You look so much like your father." She muttered softly, almost to herself. It was true- I'd inherited Dad's green eyes and black hair, a stark contrast to Celia's blue eyes and blonde hair. My skin colour was a mixture of Dad's black skin and Celia's ghost-white one. Celia pulled my chin up, her expression softening a fraction.

"Why do you hate me?" I whispered, the words almost getting stuck in my throat.

With a scowl, she shoved me away. "Because you're a disappointment- good for nothing whatsoever." She grabbed a fistful of my hair. "Thank the Heavens you have decent looks- otherwise Mantennii would never have agreed to marry to his son."

"I'm marrying his son?!" I cried out as she dragged me. A slight, palpable relief swept over me. At least I'm not marrying a middle-aged creep.

But I am marrying someone I've never met.

Celia threw me down a short flight of stairs. I grunted in pain, then jumped up and ran to the door, just as Celia slammed it shut, clicking the lock into place.

"LET ME OUT!" I demanded, banging my fist on the thick metal door. To my disappointment, they didn't. In a blind fit of rage, I kicked the door then howled, clutching my right foot as pain jolted through me.

"What were you hoping to achieve by doing that?" A slightly irritated voice called out in the darkness. "Other than a sprained foot, that is."

I whirled around. "Who are you?"

A tiny click sounded and a small light bulb illuminated the room that I now recognised as the basement. A boy was leaning against the wall, an eyebrow raised. He had prominent cheekbones and slightly ruffled black hair.

"I am your future husband." Cheekbones drawled, walking over to me with an arm held out. "Nice to meet you, I guess. How 'bout we skip over the formalities and work on getting the hell out of here?" 

End of chapter 16. 

Qotc: 

1. Thoughts on Arya's future husband?

2. Where the hell are the boys?

3. Thoughts on Celia?

I hope you guys liked it!

Stay safe and thanks for reading :)