Chapter 4

I lay in bed, feigning sleep, my body rigid under the covers. My mind was a whirlwind of the ugly words I had overheard. He thought I was fragile. He thought I was broken. Good. I would use that.

The door creaked open, and Liam stepped into the room. He was carrying a tray with a cup of tea and a small white pill. He moved silently, like a predator, but his face was arranged in its familiar mask of concern.

"Ava? Are you awake?" he whispered.

I stirred, letting out a small, mournful sound. I opened my eyes slowly, making them look unfocused and heavy with grief. "Liam?"

"I brought you some chamomile tea," he said, setting the tray on the nightstand. "And a sleeping pill. You didn't sleep at all last night. You need to rest, especially with the funeral tomorrow."

His voice was so gentle, so full of fake care, it made my skin crawl. I pushed myself up, letting the blanket pool around my waist.

"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse. I needed to test him, to see the cracks in his performance for myself. "Liam... can you do something for me?"

"Anything," he said instantly.

"I want to see them," I whispered, looking down at my hands. "The urns. Before the funeral. I just... I need to say a private goodbye."

For a split second, a flicker of something dark and impatient crossed his face. It was there and gone in an instant, so fast I might have missed it if I hadn't been looking for it. He smoothed his expression back into one of deep sympathy.

"Oh, Ava," he sighed, stroking my hair. "I don't know if that's a good idea. It might be too painful for you."

"Please," I insisted, letting my voice break. "I need this."

He hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. "Alright. If you think it will help. But first, you need to rest. Drink your tea. Take the pill. We can see them in the morning."

He was trying to control the situation, to keep me away from the evidence of his planned desecration. I looked at the pill in his hand. I knew I couldn't take it. I needed to be awake. I needed to be aware.

I took the cup of tea, my hands trembling. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" I asked, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Of course," he said, settling onto the edge of the bed.

I brought the pill to my mouth, but as I raised the teacup to wash it down, I let my hand "slip," palming the small white tablet and dropping it into the space between the bed and the nightstand. I took a large gulp of tea, wincing slightly.

"It's done," I murmured, leaning back against the pillows.

Liam smiled, a soft, reassuring smile that now looked monstrous to me. "Good girl. Just close your eyes. I'm right here."

I closed my eyes, forcing my breathing to become deep and even. I lay perfectly still, listening to the sound of his presence in the room. He stayed for what felt like an eternity, probably waiting for the drug to take full effect.

After about twenty minutes, he shifted his weight. I felt his hand brush against my cheek, a gesture that was meant to be tender but felt like a violation. Then, I heard him stand up and quietly exit the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

I lay there in the darkness, my eyes wide open. The tea had done nothing to calm my racing heart. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. He thought I was unconscious. He thought I was helpless. He was moving forward with his sick plan, confident that his victim was sedated and compliant.

But I was awake. And I was watching. Every move he made from now on would be a move I could use against him. The fear was still there, a cold dread in the pit of my stomach, but it was now overlaid with a layer of icy rage. The fight for my life, and for the memory of my parents, had begun.