Uncovering You 10: The Finale

by Scarlett Edwards

  “But we can’t have that. Can we?” Esteban ask the camera. “No. No, no, no, no, no. Good thing,” he says, holding up one finger,” that I know how to stop that temptation”

  The buzzing gets louder. I see what it’s from out of the corner of my eye.

  A beard trimmer.

  “No,” I begin to tremble. “No, please don’t…”

  Esteban ignores me. He holds up the photograph of me in the paper. “Pretty girl,” he says. “Such lush, beautiful hair.” He motions to one of his men. “Cut it off.”

  “No, no, no. NO!” I scream. The blades cut into my skull. I begin to cry, to sob, as long locks of hair fall around me.

  Esteban forces the camera into my face. “You see?” he screams. “You see what you made me do?”

  I’m shaking when it’s all over. Tears blur my vision and stain my cheeks.

  Esteban grabs hold of my head. He twists me toward the camera. Then he leans in beside me and smiles.

  “Not so pretty anymore, is she, Mr. Stonehart?” he asks. He regards me for a few moments. “No,” he says, almost to himself. “Something’s still off. Oh!” He snaps his fingers.

  “Her eyebrows. Shave those too.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I’m thrown in my little white dungeon. Once the door shuts, I collapse on the floor.

  At least they didn’t rape me again. At least—

  No. I can’t. As my shaking hands explore my shaven scalp, I succumb to a torrent of sobs. I know, deep down, that there is no saving grace in my situation. No positive. No tiny shred of hope I can cling to.

  My hair. My hair is gone. It was such a vital part of me, of my identity.

  I rub my hands, over and over and over my bare scalp.

  My eyebrows, too. I crawl to a corner and trace the spot where they had been with a finger.

  There’s nothing there but smooth skin.

  A pitiful sob full of longing and despair surfaces from the depths of my chest.

  Day twenty.

  Almost three weeks. I’ve been here three weeks, and nothing’s yet changed.

  After making me bald and hideous, it’s almost as if they all forgot about me. The door opens only when someone brings me my meals. Nobody speaks a word to me.

  I have no idea of their intentions. I have no idea of what’s going on in the outside world. My pleas for information are met with silence.

  I want to know where Jeremy is. I want to know if he’s seen the video. I want to know what he’s doing. What he thinks. That he’s trying to rescue me…

  Is he trying to rescue me? Gripped by the depths of despair, I can’t even find certainty in that knowledge.

  One month into my stay, Esteban enters the room.

  “It seems your Jeremy Stonehart is an unyielding negotiator,” he tells me. Then he shrugs. “Ah, well. We will make him see the light.” He holds the door open and beckons me forth. “Come. Please.”

  I comply.

  I follow Esteban out of the room.

  “Whatever you want,” I say, desperation taking hold. “Jeremy can give it. I know. Please. I know. Just let me speak to him. Tell me what you want. I’ll ask him and you’ll get it. You’ll see.”

  “Little girl,” Esteban laughs. “Why are you so certain that Jeremy has what I want?”

  That comment stops me dead in my tracks.

  Esteban glances back. “Come on,” he tells me. “It’s bad manners to be late.”

  Late? I wonder. Late for what?

  I pick up my step and follow Esteban past the entrance to the operating room, farther down the hall to a place I’ve never been before.

  It’s a long, oak dining room. An enormous table stands in the middle. Everything is dark, stained wood, like the dining halls at Yale or Annenberg at Harvard.

  There are only two chairs, situated across from each other. A man sits in one. He wears a wide-brimmed, brown top hat that shields most of his face.

  Esteban gestures to the empty chair. “Please.” He motions. “For you.”

  Apprehension gnaws at my insides as I plod around the table to my seat. The other man in the room has his full attention on the plate of food before him. He does not glance at me, or reveal his face from under the broad-rimmed edge of his hat.

  I sit down. Then he looks at me, and I nearly faint.

  “Hello, Lilly,” he says.

  It’s Hugh.

  Esteban laughs out loud. I swallow air like a pucker fish, completely in shock.

  “That’ll be good enough, my boy,” Hugh says. He flicks his finger dismissing Esteban. “Make sure to bring some food for our distinguished guest. She looks absolutely famished.”

  Esteban grins, blows a big, pink bubble with his gum, and walks away.

  “Y…you” I stutter.

  Hugh smiles politely at me. “Yes, Lilly,” he says. “Here I am. You didn’t think retirement would hold me back now. Did you?”

  “What do you want?” I hiss. “How—how could you?”

  “In due time,” Hugh says. “All will be revealed in due time. For now, I have a question for you. Would you like chicken, or pork?”

  I stare at him. “What?”

  “Chicken, or pork,” he repeats calmly. “Your choice of meat. Which would you prefer?”

  I don’t answer. He sighs and lays his hat down on the table. “It’s a simple question, Lilly,” he tells me. “I would think that someone who took over my position within my son’s company would have the intellectual capacity to answer.”

  “That’s what this is about?” I whisper. “You brought me here because you were…unfairly removed?”

  “Oh, no,” Hugh shakes his head. “This goes much, much further back than that. The truth is,” he says, “I am sorry that you had to get caught up in all of this.”

  Somebody else enters the room. I hear the clatter of dishware. I don’t even look at who it is when my meal down before me. All I can do is stare at Hugh.

  “Thank you, Rose,” he says when my meal is set.

  I blink, look up, and do a double take. The worst kind of fear grips my insides.

  Rose is right there, smiling down at me, her hands folded in front of her apron, that grey bun situated atop her head.

  “I think she’s a lot prettier with hair,” Rose says to Hugh. “Wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”

  “Perhaps a wig is in order,” he answers.

  She nods and backs away. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She walks out of the room. I stare, flabbergasted and awestruck, at her retreating form.

  “Chicken,” Hugh says.

  I shake my head and look at him. “What?”

  “The correct answer to the question I posed? It’s chicken.” He smiles. “Pork isn’t kosher, and we must respect our host’s beliefs if we have guest rights to his home. Although…” Hugh trails off, and looks confused for a moment, “…that might not be chicken. Unless my eyes deceive me, I believe it is dove.”

  I look down at my meal. Dove?

  Revulsion grips me as I see the small white bird roasted before me. Immediately, I’m transported back to dinner with Stonehart.

  Hugh laughs. “It’s all coming together now. Isn’t it?”

  He cuts a thin slice of meat on his plate and motions to me. “Go on. Eat. The cook here is quite good.”

  “Not Charles,” he adds when he sees my disbelief. “Although, that would have been something if I could have arranged it. Don’t you think? All the characters from your life gathered together in one place. Except,” he raises a finger. “Except, of course, for your precious Jeremy.”

  “R—Rose?” I stammer. “How?”

  “Oh,” Hugh says. “That’s simple. You see, Rose’s loyalty never shifted. She has always been, and will forever continue to be, my woman.”

  He tips his glass back, drinks, and chuckles. “I want you to understand something, Lilly. My son’s greatest flaw has always been that he is too trusting. I tried to teach him otherwise.” He shak
es his head. “But he remained stubborn, down to the bitter end. A lot, it seems, like you.” He sets the glass down. “Maybe that was your great draw for him.”

  Hugh gestures again at the meal before me. “Please,” he says. “Don’t be afraid. Eat. I wasn’t joking when I told you that you looked famished.” He folds his hands in front of him. “Have your fill. I’ll wait. Besides,” his eyes shimmer, “our next topic of discussion will require a full stomach.”

  “What do you mean, ‘the bitter end’?” I ask. “Jeremy. You didn’t—“

  “He’s alive and well. Don’t you worry. But he’s consumed by fear for you.” Hugh chuckles. “It would be quite a sight to see, if either of us had the privilege of finding ourselves in the position. Alas, we’re here,” He gestures around the room, “where nobody can ever reach us.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I push away my plate of food. Rose… That backstabbing bitch! She wormed her way into Jeremy’s home, gained his trust, gained my trust, and then—then did all of this.

  She didn’t act alone. Of course not! But if anybody held the key to making this possible it must have been her.

  Funny. For some reason, seeing Rose—not Esteban, not Hugh—is the trigger that evokes my deepest determination. I feel it taking hold of me, together with my forgotten strength, just like the time I committed to signing Jeremy’s filthy contract.

  Circumstances are different now. The cast has changed. But my motivation, my focus, is one and the same.

  I have to get back at them. All of them. Let them do whatever they want to my body. I’m already an expert at removing myself from that.

  I almost let them have my mind. Almost. But seeing Rose, finding Hugh—I know it’s no longer mindless cruelty I’m being subjected to. There is a reason behind everything.

  And if there’s a reason, it means there’s a cause. And that cause makes my situation seem a lot less futile. I feel—a little bit, at least—that I have the chance, however, slim, to become the master of my fate.

  All the things Jeremy taught me, intentionally or not, are surfacing again.

  I sit taller. I readjust the robe on my shoulders. I even bring the plate back to me, pick up the knife and fork, and cut into the fried bird.

  I take my first bite and smile at Hugh as I chew the rubbery meat.

  I swallow.

  “Not as good as Charles could have made it,” I comment.

  Hugh laughs. He tilts his glass toward me in a mocking toast. “Well done, Lilly,” he says. “Here’s to your returned strength. I warned Esteban that you would be difficult to break. He assured me his men had the means. It seems my pupil was mistaken.”

  I pull up everything that I know, everything that I’ve ever been told, about Hugh.

  He works from the shadows. He’s sly, deviant, and never puts himself in harm’s way. He must be absolutely certain that we are secure here to reveal himself to me.

  “You’ve been planning this for a long time. Haven’t you?” I ask.

  Hugh shrugs. “The groundwork has been there for years. It was only your entrance into my son’s life that made it possible.”

  “You posed as Jeremy’s confidante for how long?” I wonder. “You made him believe he turned you loyal.”

  “For a time, he had,” Hugh says. “Of course I was angered when he took over my company. Angered but proud—as a father should be. But I always make contingencies, in case things change.” He looks around the room. “You were that change, Lilly.

  “You see,” he continues, “retirement…does not suit me. When I find myself with nothing to do, my thoughts turn to insidious paths. Back to all the wrongs that have been done to me. Jeremy’s greatest mistake,” Hugh muses, “was inviting me to dinner that fateful night. Seeing Rose sparked all of my forgotten ill-will. No,” he corrects. “Not forgotten, suppressed.”

  He stands and walks to examine a painting on the wall. “An extraordinary piece. Don’t you think?” he asks. “Your father, had he been given the chance, could have produced one much like it.”

  I stare at him, caught off guard. “What?”

  “Your father,” Hugh repeats calmly, reaching out to trace the golden border without looking at me. “Paul. The one responsible for my dear wife’s death.”

  His fingers fall away. He turns to me. “What? You think I didn’t know? Of course I knew the bitch slut was sneaking around behind my back. I let her think she was safe, for the longest time. Let her believe in the illusion. Because, in the end…” he chuckles, “…all it took was one little match to snuff her flame.”

  My eyes widen. “You were responsible for the fire?”

  Hugh smiles and rubs his hands together. “I had to find a way to get rid of her, you see. But shh.” He presses a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell Jeremy. He still believes Paul is at fault.”

  “You…you set him up!”

  Hugh laughs grandly. “He was the perfect scapegoat. Don’t you think? I knew everything that went on in my home. You think I could not see the love and devotion that my little Jeremy showed toward his mother? I’m no fool. I knew he would be consumed by hatred for the man he deemed responsible. Hell, if he knew that I killed her, he might have even assaulted me in his rage.”

  Works from the shadows. Pull the hidden strings. My thoughts repeat themselves before coming to the terrifying conclusion:

  Hugh has been the puppet master all along!

  “I’m sorry, Lilly. But it seems I pulled you into all this, however unintentionally, long, long ago. I’m glad that you don’t blame my son anymore. He doesn’t deserve it. I’m even gladder that you could arrive at that decision of your own, without waiting for this little revelation of mine.

  “So I know more about your father than you would think. I know more than Jeremy does. Did you accept his explanation that Paul’s drug habit caused the illusions? Ha.” Hugh sneers. “Recreational drugs don’t have that power. It takes serious chemicals to do that type of permanent damage. And did you know, back in my heyday, I controlled one of the largest medical suppliers in the country?”

  The surprise that flashes across my face must be very evident. Hugh catches it and smiles. “No? Jeremy never divulged that information? Well, then.” He returns to his seat and drums his fingers across the table. “That makes for an interesting development. I was in charge of all sorts of hazardous goods. My company provided the raw materials to all the researchers and laboratories throughout America. The chemicals needed to formulate new drugs before FDA approval. Somewhere there, in my arsenal, I’m sure one could find something that would induce some… life-long schizophrenia. Don’t you think?”

  He sits down. “So yes. I know about Paul and his artistic talents. I was the one who visited him at Cedar Hills and convinced him he must hide it. But I found some of his drawings in the house, after Jeremy and Rose and Charles left. I thought he might have shown them to you. Looks like my suspicions were right.”

  “You planned all this from there. Didn’t you?”

  “Like I said: The groundwork was laid long ago. I just needed the proper, um, motivation to set things in motion. Seeing Rose sparked that. How much easier could it be, to form plans with a woman, when the third member of your company is deaf?” He laughs. “Poor Charles. The man never had a clue.”

  “What do you want?” I ask. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  He tilts his head. “Well,” he considers, “for one, I like making my achievements known and appreciated by all those involved. You represent the absolute apex of that. You are important to my son. For all that he’s done to me, you thus become the opportune object for my revenge.”

  He chuckles. “Listen to me. ‘Revenge’. What a funny word that is. It’s defined your relationship with Jeremy for the longest time. Has it not? And only now, when that part of your life has come to a close… poof, the word pops up again. Ah.” He looks up. Footsteps sound to my right. Instead of looking, I keep my eyes on Hugh. “Thank you, Rose. That’ll s
uit her nicely.”

  I stiffen, but still don’t turn my head, as a silky wig is placed on my crown. Bright purple strands of latex fall into my eyes.

  “My son’s whore,” Hugh proclaims. “Fitted with the stripper wig that suits her best. A very nice choice of color, Rose.”

  “I thought so, too,” she says sweetly, and retreats once more from the room.

  I tuck the hair behind my ear when she’s gone and look at Hugh, unflinching, unaffected.

  “Hmm.” He regards me. “I doubt Jeremy would find you so alluring now. You’re pale and skinny, and…there’s something off about your eyes. Isn’t there? They look haunted. You may as well be a ghost.”

  I don’t rise to the taunts. I know full well what I look like without eyebrows.

  “He’ll be given the chance to prove himself to you, soon, don’t fret.” Hugh says. “Now, Lilly, the other reason I am telling you these things…which I’m sure you’ll appreciate…is that I must cement you to me. To us. Esteban was very fond of the enterprise he had. You know the takeover didn’t sit well with him. Who would have thought he’d have found such a willing ally in a Stonehart Industries board member? And I in him?

  “Ironic, isn’t it? Jeremy put me on his board because he thought he could control me. And yes, for a long time, he did have the influence to make me meek. I did as I was told, supporting him against the others when I was asked. I even helped him get to you in the airport in Boston. Do you remember? Of course you do. You have such a sharp little mind.

  “But you miscalculated too, Lilly. Do you recall how you cast me aside when I came to your door and asked you to take that letter?” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a sealed envelope. He throws it on the table.

  It slides to a stop out of arm’s reach.

  “You should have taken it. It may have helped prevent…” he gestures at me in a distasteful manner, “the situation you currently find yourself in.”

  “What was it?” I ask.

  “A note from Esteban,” Hugh says, “that I told him had been delivered to Jeremy long ago. It was an offer, with very reasonable terms, to take Dextran back. Unfortunately, Jeremy took weeks and weeks and weeks to formulate a response. A response that never came. Esteban became distraught, then desperate. And things devolved into… all this.”