Page 88 of Idaho

"Eva," she pleaded. "You know we can't leave you here."

They always called me by my first name in public, but when we were alone with only family, and staff, they called me by a shortened version of my middle name. That was why I went by it when I came here to America. It felt like a way to separate myself from my family. Now it was a bitter reminder that there was no escape from them.

"Why not?" I asked. "Because you don't trust me?"

"It's not about trust," she said, coming to stand behind me. "It's about keeping you safe." She put her hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged her off.

"I'm safe here," I argued. "You don't even know them. What they're capable of." I turned and glared at her. "If they wanted to, they could have taken down all of your bodyguards."

"Enough." Father stood in the doorway, glaring at us both. "We are leaving tomorrow morning and that's the end of it." He looked at me, his eyes softening slightly. "I've already spoken with the University, and they've agreed to let you transfer your credits over to the University of Luxembourg."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I don't want to go." I was going to lose everything if they did this. My friends, my new life, Idaho, everything I'd come to love. "If you're insisting on dragging me home, I'll just leave again."

"You can try," Father said, his eyes hardening again. "But we won't make it easy for you. You'll be guarded around the clock."

"Louis," my mother said, worry shining in her eyes. "Don't be so harsh."

"It's for her own good," he told her. He looked back at me. "We will discuss this further tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you get some rest."

"Am I to rest with these creeps watching over me?" I demanded.

One of the men gave me a look of disbelief, but then schooled his features back into a blank mask. Part of their job was to ignore us. As if that was possible. It just meant that we never had true privacy.

"And am I to go home with only the clothes on my back?" I added.

"Eva," Mother urged. "Please. You must see reason."

"I do see reason," I told her. "You're not seeing it." I turned away from them both and went to the bed again. Sitting down, I pulled the blankets up over me and rolled onto my side so I didn't have to look at either of them. All this would make sense if I was seventeen years old, but I was too old for them to be ordering me around. Only, I didn't have a choice. I had no money. No job, other than the one my father gave me. And if I tried to escape Luxembourg I would be detained at any port of entry I tried to go through. My father had ultimate control.

I sighed as I heard footsteps retreating over the soft carpet and the door shutting behind them. A quick peek was all it took to see that I was, in fact, alone. Laying my head back down, I let the tears wet my pillow. I didn't blame Idaho for leaving. What else could he do? He was as stuck as I was.

Looking around, I searched for the phone I'd dropped onto the bed earlier. It was gone. I had no way of communicating with the outside world. It wasn't long before exhaustion pulled me under into a restless sleep where dreams of Idaho and our future together were ripped away from me.

"Good morning!"

I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head as Mother opened the curtains and let the sunlight in to assault my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Time to get up," she told me cheerfully. "We have to be at the airport by ten."

"I'm not going," I grumbled, rolling away from her.

The bed dipped next to me as she sat down. "You don't mean that." She put her hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged her off.

"Yes, I do." I sat up and glared at her.

"Don't you want to see your sisters? Your brother?"

"Of course I do," I told her. "Just not at the cost of my freedom."

She clicked her tongue, studying me. "You act as if we hold you prisoner."

"You do, Mama."

Her sigh was deep. "I've never understood why you feel this way. None of your siblings share your belief."

"Because they're all too scared of Father to say anything different," I snapped. "And because they're all content with the life he's given them. I'm not."

She shook her head, reaching out to stroke my hair back from my face. "You've always been different." She smiled. "Not in a bad way, just...different. You and your sisters loved to sit out in the gardens with your tutors. Next thing I knew, I'd get a message that my Eva is stripped down, playing in the fountain rather than learning about mathematics." Sadness filled her eyes. "I always knew one day, you'd do this."