The Devil's Advocate: Devil's Playground Duet #2

by Ashley Jade

  “By who?”

  “Who do you think?” Rolling his eyes, he sets the food down on the nightstand. “What kind of movies do you enjoy? And so help me God, I will hang myself with your bedsheets if you expect me to sit through a chick flick.”

  “I don’t really like to watch movies,” I tell him, reaching for the remote.

  He looks relieved. “Thank—”

  “I much prefer reality television.”

  He looks up at the ceiling. “This is going to be a long night.”

  Chapter 18

  Eden

  Two hours into our reality television marathon, a sleeping Geoffrey snores peacefully in the chair beside my bed while my mind continues to spin.

  Five minutes after I sent my last message, Geoffrey appeared to keep me company.

  Coincidence? I think not. Which leads me back to that weird bolt of intuition I had in the bathroom.

  Cain’s lied to me before, but he had no reason to lie about the app.

  Damien’s also lied to me once before, and he has every reason to lie about the app.

  There’s only one way to prove what has now become glaringly obvious to me.

  Angelbaby123: Hey, I know you’re busy, but I have a quick question.

  I’m surprised when he responds so soon.

  Devil: Go ahead.

  Angelbaby123: Do you remember that thing we talked about earlier?

  Devil: Can you be more specific?

  Angelbaby123: In the bathroom.

  Devil: I remember our conversation. Yes.

  He skated right past that one, so I go in a different direction.

  Angelbaby123: What about after it?

  Devil: Is this a trick question?

  That’s exactly what it is.

  Angelbaby123: No. I just want to know if I’m better in bed than Margaret is.

  I hold my breath as he types out his response.

  Devil: Self-doubt is an unattractive quality.

  Dick. I try again.

  Angelbaby123: Sorry, I don’t feel so good.

  Devil: What’s the matter?

  Angelbaby123: I don’t know. Everything is spinning. I feel like I might pass out.

  Less than a second later, Geoffrey’s phone rings. The poor guy leaps up from his seat like a startled cat as he answers.

  “Yes, sir. Hello, sir.” He eyes me suspiciously. “Eden is f—”

  A bolt of anger strikes through me like wildfire and I run for the door. Eden is not fine.

  Eden’s had enough.

  “She’s leaving the bedroom,” Geoffrey yells, following close behind me.

  I charge down the staircase and then another until there are no more steps and I’m forced to enter a dark, narrow hallway.

  Damien must have called Geoffrey off because I no longer hear him chasing me as I trek to the end and make a sharp left.

  The neon glow from a gigantic fish tank stationed behind a dark mahogany desk illuminates the room.

  Damien doesn’t turn around as I approach, but I see the hand resting on the arm of his chair tense.

  My heart beats faster as I come to a stop at the front of his desk. “You’re the Devil.”

  He doesn’t say a word. The stupid fish have his undivided attention.

  And while the fish are beautiful in all their bright, tropical glory—apart from the isolated creepy one sanctioned behind a divider—this is far more important.

  “For weeks you tricked me into thinking I was talking to the man I loved on that app.” I poke the wood with my finger, wishing it were his eyeballs. “I told you things. Personal things.”

  My stomach sways. I sent him pictures.

  But it’s my next realization that has me reeling.

  “You tricked me into going to the ball.” I slam my fist on the desk, infuriation streaming through my veins. “You set me up.”

  You seduced me in a closet.

  “Some might say I did you a favor.” The arrogance in his tone is sickening. “It would have hurt worse if Cain pulled the rug out from under you, and then lured you back in again and again until he decided he had no more use for you. Trust me.”

  That may be true, but it still doesn’t make it right. “What Cain did doesn’t change what you did, Damien.”

  “If you came down here looking for an apology, little lamb—you’re out of luck.”

  “What about an explanation?” I shake my head, feeling so dumb I could scream. There’s no reasoning with a psychopath. Someone so evil is already too far gone. “On second thought, save it. Every word out of your mouth has been a lie. Why would this be any different?”

  I have one foot out the door when he speaks again. “Not every word.”

  No. He doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t get to screw with my head like this. “Fuck you.”

  “It’s a shame you don’t aim all your anger at the right target.”

  I whirl around at the same time he does. “You’re a hypocrite. Cain might be an asshole, but he’s never done the things you have. And at least when he hurts someone, he’s genuinely sorry for it, which is a lot more than I can say for you.”

  The hardness in his eyes is gone, replaced by something much more appalling. Pity.

  “Christ. You’re pathetic.”

  “Does it feel good?” I ask, tears stinging my eyes, despite fighting like hell to fend them off.

  “Does what feel good?”

  “Breaking people down to nothing in such an ugly, heartless way?”

  Hell, his other victims were lucky. He had mercy on them and burned them to death. He didn’t subject them to this kind of torture first.

  As usual, silence is his only response to the questions I want answers to the most.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  No wonder Cain doesn’t want to be anywhere near him.

  Damien King is toxic. Straight venom to the heart.

  I’ve barely turned on my heel again when I hear a dense thud.

  “I’d say yes, but it looks like someone else broke you first.”

  Chapter 19

  Damien

  I had no intention of showing this to Eden. Not because she doesn’t deserve to see it, but because I don’t want her to feel worse about herself.

  She already thinks she’s weak and that she’ll never be strong enough to conquer her demons.

  And what’s inside this folder will only prove her right. Because it’s what she was made to believe.

  She takes a step closer. “What is that?”

  “Your entire psychiatric history, since you were twelve.”

  Her eyes widen. “How dare you invade my priva—”

  “You can harp about that later. There are more important things for you to be pissed about.” I slide the folder toward her. “Open it.”

  I watch her face as she scans through the first few papers. “Congrats, you know I’m a nutcase. I don’t understand what the point of all this is.”

  “Read the therapist’s notes from your very first session when you were twelve.”

  “Consult with patient requested by the patient’s mother after the school nurse reported the patient expressed suicidal thoughts.” She clears her throat. “Patient displays symptoms of anxiety and depression. When asked about her home life, her mother maintains everything is fine and her child has a normal upbringing. When I asked the patient how her home life was, the patient apologized profusely for causing trouble and confessed that she didn’t want to harm herself, she just wanted attention from her mother.” Her lower lip trembles. “When I asked to speak to the patient alone, the mother declined. When I called for a follow-up appointment, the mother declined and said the patient was getting help elsewhere.”

  “Do you remember this?”

  She nods. “Yeah. The school nurse called my mom in and suggested I go to counseling. After we left, my mom got really angry. She said it was my fault for drawing negative attention to us when she was only trying to do the best she could as a single
mother. I felt bad because I knew she was working all the time and I messed up. I promised I’d be better after that.”

  My chest tightens. I know exactly what Eden’s feeling. I know how much it can sting when a parent treats you like a problem half the time and ignores you the other half.

  Which is why I need her to keep going. “Read the next one.”

  She flips the page. “Consult with patient requested by the patient’s mother after an episode with another student at school. School reports the patient physically attacked another student in the bathroom during lunch. When asked what happened, the patient refused to speak. The other student maintains she did nothing to provoke her and claims Eden assaulted her when she stepped inside the restroom. When I asked the patient about the incident, she refused to talk about it. However, the patient’s mother claims her daughter wasn’t feeling well and blames the flu for her outburst. When I called for a follow-up appointment, the mother declined and said the patient was receiving help elsewhere.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “Do you remember what happened that day?”

  “Lenore Mills said the reason I didn’t have a dad was because my mom was a dyke.” She shrugs. “So I punched her.”

  “Did you ever tell your mom what Lenore said?”

  “I did. She told me if I didn’t want to get bullied, I should start telling everyone I saw my dad on the weekends.” She looks down at her shoes. “When I told her I didn’t want to lie and asked where my father was, she got mad and said if I wasn’t willing to do the right thing for our family, then I wasn’t allowed to hang out with my friends from school anymore. She said she was trying to maintain a certain image in order to run for district attorney the following year and all of my antics were messing things up.”

  “Read the next one,” I urge because it’s where things go from bad to worse.

  “Consult with patient requested by the patient’s mother following an incident involving a teacher at school. Evidence of an inappropriate student-teacher relationship was discovered after a fellow student turned in a note containing graphic sexual details about the school’s English teacher, Mr. Delany, to school administration. The note was written by the patient. Shortly after the teacher was suspended, the patient was discovered at a local park in the middle of the night with Mr. Delany. Patient strongly maintains nothing inappropriate happened between them and insists they were just friends. Her mother believes otherwise and says her child was taken advantage of. When I asked to speak to the patient alone, the mother declined. Mother and patient left my office shortly after.”

  She trembles. “What’s the point of all this, Damien? If you want me to stand here and claim Mr. Delany did something wrong, I won’t. He was my friend.”

  Pointing out grown men shouldn’t be friends with their teenage students or texting them all hours of the night won’t help matters. Besides, I’m one to talk. Although there’s a world of difference between a seventeen-year-old guy messing around with his teacher versus a fourteen-year-old girl.

  “I won’t argue with you,” I tell her. “I just want you to read the next report. The one dated a few days later.”

  She huffs out a breath. “Consult with patient requested by patient’s mother. Patient displays symptoms of severe psychosis. Inpatient treatment recommended. Benzodiazepines and mood-stabilizers prescribed.”

  “What happened between your last therapy session and this one?”

  She looks up at the ceiling. “My mom said Mr. Delany was connected to some big-wig politician and he offered to support her while she was running for district attorney as long as she changed her story and took back the accusations about his nephew. The bullying got worse, and a few days later she took me out of school, then took me to a psychiatrist. I was homeschooled after that.”

  “Did the psychiatrist ever talk to you?”

  She shakes her head. “A little. I think. I don’t remember much to be honest. The meds he gave me made me really tired.”

  It’s all I can do not to put my fist through the wall. “That’s because you were receiving double the recommended dose.” I hand her another sheet of paper. “Only, no one ever caught on because your mother was prescribed the same medication you were but got it filled at a different pharmacy under her name.”

  For over three fucking years Eden was not only given medication I’m positive she didn’t need, she was given too much of it.

  She snatches the paper from me. “What? I’m sure it’s just a mistake.”

  “It’s not. Notice whenever your dose would go up or he changed your medication, Karen’s would change too. That’s not a coincidence, Eden. She turned you into a zoned-out zombie on purpose.”

  “I don’t understand—why would she do that?”

  I don’t have to say it, because the heartbroken look on her face tells me she already knows.

  Karen didn’t want children. She wanted a place filler to make her life seem normal because of her own deep-seated issues. And when Eden caused too much trouble and became a liability to her public persona and her bottom line, she paid a quack to dope her kid full of psych meds and convinced everyone she was a mental case.

  She closes the file and places it back on my desk. “I don’t think I can stomach anymore.” She looks up at me. “I know you hate Cain, but if you’re wondering why I’m so pathetic, this is why. I love him and I’m loyal to him because he saved me. After my mom died and he became my guardian, he had the psychiatrist decrease all my meds and got me a therapist who actually helped me.”

  I shouldn’t do it. It’s cruel to kick someone when they’re already down.

  But she needs to know. The pedestal she’s placed Cain on isn’t one he deserves.

  “Cain didn’t help you, Eden. He just wanted you to think he did.”

  Chapter 20

  Eden

  I watch in confusion as Damien presses a few keys on his computer keyboard. A moment later his deep voice fills the room.

  “Start talking, or I’ll put your small intestines through a meat grinder—”

  “All right,” someone who sounds a whole lot like my therapist screams in agony. “I’ll tell you the truth. Just stop hurting me.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Why are you threatening my thera—”

  “Cain paid me to provide one on one support to his stepdaughter. However, he had very specific rules I had to abide by.” I hold my breath as my therapist continues. “He’d developed an unhealthy fascination with her and that’s putting it mildly. My job was to convince Eden she couldn’t be without him by using her anxiety disorder against her and making her agoraphobia worse.”

  “And you agreed to it?” Damien growls. “Do you have any idea how much you fucked her up?”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” he protests. “Cain was blackmailing me with things that would have landed me in jail. It was much easier to do what he wanted than to object. Besides, Eden was already looking at him like he strung up the moon after Karen died, it hardly took any convincing to make her believe Cain was her knight in shining armor. I’m not sure if you’re aware of her history, but the girl isn’t exactly what you’d call mentally stable thanks to being doped up on meds and cooped up inside all the time with virtually no socialization, attention, or affection. Her mother already put the nail in her coffin with all her neglect. If you want my professional opinion, what Cain wanted was way more humane.”

  “I don’t want your professional opinion, fuckface,” Damien snarls low and deadly. “I want you to tell me what you did to her.”

  “Sure, all right. It was relatively simple. Whenever Eden expressed that she wished she was well enough to go shopping or out to the movies like other girls her age, I’d tell her she probably couldn’t handle it because she’d been kept inside for so long. I also reminded her that sometimes bad things happened—like her mother dying in a car accident—when people stepped outside and that she was safer at home. If she seemed like she was going to object, I’d remind her Cain wo
uldn’t be able to protect her if she left. Then I’d suggest we open the front door together or walk to the mailbox—this way, she’d think she was making progress when in reality she was only becoming more dependent on him, and her agoraphobia became worse.”

  My head feels heavy as he continues.

  “If she’d make a comment about how she wished she had friends, I reminded her what her old friends did to her. How they laughed and spread rumors after the incident with her teacher. Or how the entire town called her a slut, and how everyone wanted her gone. Then I’d gently remind her that Cain never thought of her that way because he cared about her and he’d always protect her. I’d reinforce that she was safe with him because he’s the one person she could count on.”

  “And she never protested? Never argued?”

  No.

  He laughs. “Are you kidding? The girl was so messed up and infatuated with him by then, I’m not even sure why Cain hired me. It got to the point where I wouldn’t even have to speak his praises, she was wrapped around his finger so tightly. Her world begins and ends with him, exactly like he wants it to.” He sighs. “It’s sad. Eden was a beautiful girl. Smart too. She might have really been something if it wasn’t for his obsession with her.”

  He says it like I’m dead.

  The room whirls and my chest caves in. I might as well be.

  “Hey,” Damien calls out as he walks toward me, his tone softer than I’ve ever heard it.

  I turn away. I don’t want Damien near me. I don’t want anyone near me. I just want to lie here on the floor and dissolve into nothing. I close my eyes and hug my knees, curling up into a ball. I want to disappear into thin air, like I never existed…just like my mother wanted me to.

  “I tried so hard.” My voice is frail and tattered. “I just wanted her to love me. Why couldn’t she?”