CHAPTER 3

The Wicked Proposal 

His voice was ironic, the malice dripping off every word. Even in his tone, I could feel the wickedness in every word. "I know you're surprised to see me here," David began, his smirk growing big and a step closer to where I stood, frozen in shock. "But I have come to help you… that is if you are ready to dance to my tune." A cold run of fear ran down my spine. Help me? What sick game did he play now? David, of all people, wanted to help me? The same man who had brought me nothing but agony was standing in front of me, offering salvation. He leaned slightly forward, his voice low, dangerous. "I'm good with people, and I can pull a few strings, get you outta here in no time. Three days. That's all it would take for you to be free." I couldn't utter a word as the words swirled in my brain, too shocked. He leaned further forward, a nauseatingly cheerful grin pulled onto his face as he closed the space between us. "I still have feelings for you, Isabella. Believe it or not, I don't want Maxon to have you. You're mine. And if you agree to marry me, I'll have you out of this place within three days." I literally couldn't believe what I was hearing for a moment. The anger started to boil in my stomach as my heart suddenly spiked. Was he serious? After everything he had ever done to me, this man thought he could stand in front of me now and ask for my hand in marriage. Asking to claim me again? His sense of ownership was twisted and repulsive. David did not care for me, and he never had. And here he was again, looking to manipulate me once more, dangling this freedom in front of me as some kind of prize I could win if only I sold my soul to the devil. The weight of his offer caught my breath under it for a moment. I fisted my hands deep into my palms, digging my nails. "Nooo!" I screamed, my voice shaking all over with fear and anger. I did not care whether the guard in the hall of the prison heard me; neither did I care whether I was making a scene. David needed to understand that I wasn't the little, weak girl whom he had manipulated. "You devil!" I cursed louder. "Just leave! I never want to see your face again, monster." David's eyes narrowed, his lips ending in yet another cruel smile. He laughed-that cold, mocking laughter that I grew to despise. "That's cool, Isabella, " he said in a voice full of venom. "If you have decided to stay in prison for the rest of your life, then that is your choice." Just then, the correctional officer appeared at the entrance, and even before he got to this, he was signalling that our time was up. David just stood there for a moment, smiling at me with that inane grin on his face, as if he had all the time in the world. He shrugged indifferently, reached into his pocket, pulled a fifty-dollar bill out of it, and reached out with it, slipping it into the palm of the guard with a few whispered words. I didn't know what David had said, but immediately, this guard's expression darkened. Whatever David had said, I knew it wasn't good. Quite clearly, he had bribed this guard to demean my life in this hellhole even more. I bit my lip, trying not to scream. I just could not give David the benefit of seeing me break. Not this time. I don't know what came over me then, but something in me flipped. Perhaps it was just anger. Maybe I was just utterly exhausted from being hurt and manipulated for such a long time, or maybe it was that deep-seated determination to survive at all costs. But somehow I had had enough. Whatever David might try to throw at me, I wasn't going to crumble anymore. I just wasn't going to let him win. This guard, who had been bribed by David, roughly grabbed my arm and pulled me back toward my cell. His hold on my arm was firm, almost bruising; his voice was cold as ice as he spoke. "You're going to spend the rest of your miserable life here, you worthless criminal," he sneered, his face mere inches from mine. I said nothing. I didn't flinch, didn't react. It was a pleasure for him and David to see me in pain. I kept my eyes forward, my jaw clenched in some silent act of defiance. Then I was thrust backwards into my small, dark cell. The heavy door slammed shut with a loud, echoing bang. It seemed to reverberate off of cold, concrete walls to place me into a deafening, oppressive silence alone. Again. I threw myself onto the hard, uncomfortable bed, and my mind started to reel with all that had happened. How did I get here? How did it all fall apart this far? Then it was there-despair-and something flashed across my mind, something my mother used to say: