Chapter 163: Spit the Pill

Chapter 163: Spit the Pill
April 2009, New York
Nina's POV
The days blurred together after June died.
I would wake up in my Manhattan apartment every morning and forget, for maybe three seconds, that she was gone. Then reality would crash back like cold water, and I'd remember that my little sister, that sweet and obedient little girl, would never call me again.
The force of habit was cruel—my brain hadn't caught up to the fact that there was no "later" anymore.
Before June got sick, I'd had a purpose. I could give up softball, I could give up college, I could even give up dignity and self-respect—it had all been for something.
But now June was gone, and I was hollow. Like someone had reached inside my chest and pulled out my spine, leaving me unable to stand up straight anymore.
I'd see other sisters walking down the street together, laughing at some shared joke, and the sight would physically hurt. I had promised June I would take her to see the cherry blossoms in Central Park, take her to see The Lion King on Broadway.
That Tuesday night in April, I realized I was out of lemonade. It was a stupid thing to notice, but I'd been drinking nothing but lemonade for weeks because it was June's favorite.
The convenience store three blocks from my apartment stayed open late, and I needed the walk anyway.
I was standing in the beverage aisle, debating between regular and pink lemonade, when I heard someone call my name.
"Nina? Oh my god, Nina!"
I turned to see Tara practically bouncing toward me, her blonde hair looking perfectly styled even under the harsh store lighting. She wore a tight red dress that probably cost more than most people made in a month.
I hadn't seen Tara since that day at the Golden Palace when I'd quit dancing. The day Kevin had driven me there to officially end my old life and cement my new one as Raymond's property.
"What a coincidence!" Tara continued, her voice artificially bright. "I'm here visiting a client who lives in this neighborhood. What about you?"
"I live here," I said, clutching the lemonade bottle.
The change in Tara's expression was immediate. Her eyebrows shot up, and she looked around the store like she was suddenly seeing it differently.
"You live here?" she repeated. "In this neighborhood?"
I nodded.
"Wow." She let out a low whistle. "I had no idea Raymond was treating you so well. This is one of the most expensive areas in Manhattan. He must really care about you to set you up in a place like this."
I almost laughed. Care about me. As if keeping me in a golden cage was the same thing as caring.
"Yeah," I said instead. "Raymond's very generous."
"So how are things going with him? Are you happy?"
"Things are fine," I said.
"Good for you," Tara said, but there was something sharp in her tone now. "You know, you should really thank me. If I hadn't introduced you to Raymond at that party, you never would have had this opportunity. You'd probably still be dancing at the Golden Palace, making pocket change."
The casual cruelty of it hit me like a slap. As if she'd done me some kind of favor by delivering me to a man who drugged and controlled me.
"You're right," I said, keeping my voice level. "Raymond is very generous."
"I told you he would be." Tara's phone started ringing, and she glanced at the screen. "That's my client. He's probably wondering where I am." She looked back at me with that practiced smile. "We should catch up properly sometime. Maybe grab dinner?"
"That sounds nice," I lied.
Back in my apartment, I'd barely had time to put the lemonade in the refrigerator when my phone rang. Raymond's name appeared on the screen, and my body automatically tensed.
"I need you to come over tonight," he said without preamble. No hello, no asking if I was busy or tired or grieving. Just a command, the way he always spoke to me.
"What time?" I asked.
"Now. Kevin's already downstairs."
Of course he was. Raymond never asked if it was convenient for me to see him. He simply decided he wanted me, and I was expected to appear. It didn't matter if it was three in the afternoon or three in the morning. My schedule existed entirely at his discretion.
I hung up and changed into one of the dresses Raymond preferred—something that looked elegant but would be easy to remove.
Kevin was waiting in the car, his face professionally neutral.
At Raymond's mansion, Kevin escorted me to the same private room where I always waited. It was decorated like a bedroom from a luxury hotel—all cream-colored silk and expensive furniture that no one actually lived with.
As I waited, I could hear voices coming from Raymond's study down the hall. There was intense arguing going on inside.
I moved closer to the door, curious despite myself. But Kevin appeared in the hallway and cleared his throat softly, a gentle warning. I stepped back into the room and waited.
Twenty minutes later, Raymond appeared. He still looked angry, obviously someone had just upset him.
But his routine with me never changed. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small white pill, holding it out to me like an offering.
I stared at the pill in his palm. For the past few months, every time I saw him, he would make me take this drug. They made my head more and more foggy. But tonight, looking at that little white capsule, I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time.
Anger.
"Do I have to take this?" I asked.
Raymond's eyebrows lifted slightly. "What?"
"The pill. Do I have to take it? Why do I always have to take pills with you?"
I stepped closer to him, close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne and see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. I let my voice drop to a whisper, the way I'd learned men liked.
"If you really care about me," I said, reaching out to touch his tie, "don't you want to look into my eyes when we're together? Don't you want to see me, really see me?"
My fingers traced up his chest to his neck, and I felt his pulse quicken under my touch. For a moment, something flickered in his expression—surprise, maybe even uncertainty.
His throat moved as he swallowed hard, and I thought I might have gotten through to him. But then his jaw tightened, and his voice turned cold.
"Take the pill, Nina."
I took it from his palm and put it in my mouth, making a show of swallowing while keeping it tucked against my cheek. Raymond watched me carefully, but he seemed satisfied.
"I have some business to finish up," he said, already moving toward the door. "Rest for a while. I'll be back later."
After he left, I immediately spit the pill into my hand.