When my eyes flipped open the next morning, I let out a long sigh and stretched before I rolled out of bed. It took me a moment to remember what I’d been up to the previous day, but a small shiver of excitement passed over my brain when I finally woke up enough to recall.

 

The viewings. How many had Jasper and I been on? Five, ten, maybe more? I’d lost count by the end of the day, too exhausted to take in one more place, but my brain was whirring with memories of tiny bedrooms and kitchens I could barely turn around in and how special, how gloriously special, each and every one of them seemed. Because those places, though they were far from luxurious, represented freedom. They represented a way for me to get out of here for good.

 

I went to the mirror and pulled my hair down from the bun I’d slept with it in; it flopped around my shoulders, tangled because I’d slept on it wet. I tried to rake my fingers through some of the knots to no avail and frowned when I saw my roots were coming through already. I would need to get to the salon soon, get my beige-brown natural color scribbled out once again. It felt like I was doing that more and more often, ending up passing hours on the chair flipping through dumb magazines while the bleach burned on my scalp. Well, that’s what I got for wanting to look like I did. I knew all of this took so much upkeep, and yet I balked at the thought of letting any of it go. It was me, after all—all of it, every inch from my pedicured feet to the tips of my deep-conditioned hair.

 

I frowned at myself in the mirror, not sure why I’d gone down such a dark path so early in the morning. I was a late-at-night worrier more than anything, but maybe this was just a reaction to the restless night’s sleep I’d had. Tossing and turning the whole night through, my brain had been filled with worry as I ran through every possibility of what could happen if my father found out about my particular outing the day before.

 

I glanced over my bedroom and let out a sigh; the last time we’d decorated the place had been when I was thirteen, when Dad had first constructed this enormous place, and it looked like it. The place was papered in pink, with some of my old childhood toys were stuck up on high shelves—nostalgia, Dad said, but I wasn’t sure whether he was indulging his or mine. A giant bookcase sat to the left of my bed, filled with novels far too adult for the lavender pattern that decorated the wood.

 

The whole place looked fit for a child, not a grown adult, and I often wondered if that’s how Dad wanted me to stay—permanently within his grasp, never truly growing up and making something of my own life. If he could keep me in a place that looked like it belonged to a little girl, perhaps he could keep me like that for good. Shame for him that I was beginning to get restless, and wouldn’t be hanging around here much longer to indulge his little games.

 

Catching sight of the clock on the far wall, I swore to myself quietly and went to hop in the shower—Jasper would be here in only twenty minutes and I wasn’t even close to ready. I raked a brush through my hair as the water heated up, and did my best to blow-dry my hair so that the half-inch of roots wouldn’t be too obvious. I slipped into my favorite summer dress, mainly because it was quick and easy to get on, and sat down in front of my mirror to get my make-up down. I only had time for a quick dab of foundation, filling in my brows, and a go-over with mascara and neutral lip gloss before I heard the gate at the front of the path creaking open. Shit, he was here already.

 

I hurried downstairs, hoping I could waylay him before he bumped into my father, but no such luck—by the time I arrived in the entryway, Jasper was standing there, awkwardly leaning up against the doorframe. My father had emerged from his office, where he’d very likely spent the night, and looked up as I made my way down the stairs.

 

“Ah, there’s my beautiful girl!” he exclaimed, holding his hands out to me as I approached. I plastered a big smile on my face, and caught his hands with my own.

 

“Morning.” I kissed him on the cheek, hoping he wouldn’t smell the guilt on me. He had a habit of sniffing out how I was feeling, especially if I was trying particularly hard to hide it from him.

 

“So, what are you going to get up to today?” he asked, glancing between Jasper and I. I twirled a strand of hair around my finger, deciding to play dumb.

 

“Oh, just shopping.” I shrugged my shoulders high. “And then maybe getting my hair done. I haven’t decided yet.”

 

“You look so pretty in dresses; you should wear more of them,” he commented, looking me up and down quickly.

 

“It’s too cold for dresses most of the time, you know that,” I reminded him.

 

I put on my best bimbo voice, and pouted exaggeratedly—if there was one thing all daughters knew how to do, it was to get their fathers on their side, and I was no different. He beamed at me, and I could tell he was falling for it.

 

I glanced over at Jasper—he was regarding me with a look of open surprise on his face. I guess, he’d seen the side of me I usually worked hard to keep hidden from people—the side that my father hated so much, the side that actually had ideas and plans and ambitious of her own. Jasper might have been the first person to truly see it and not have me attempt to hide it afterwards—so of course this little display of airheadedness would be a surprise to him.

 

“Well, that sounds awesome.” Dad patted my arm, and I stepped away from him, as though being too close to him might give away the panic that was pulsing through my system. “You have a lovely time now, you hear?”

 

“I will, Daddy,” I replied, tilting my head and smiling at him broadly. I could tell he was pleased with my affectations; he regarded me as he had done when I was a kid, with fondness and without guile. At least, until my phone went off.

 

It buzzed in the pocket of the long jacket I’d thrown on over my dress, and I hurriedly scrambled in my pocket to grab it. I glanced at the number. Shit, it was one of the estate agents I’d seen yesterday. I rejected the call and dropped my phone back in my pocket, but Dad had already picked up on the strained expression on my face.

 

“Who was that?” he demanded coolly, and my eyes leapt over to Jasper, begging for him to offer me a way out. He’d been my ally up until this point, and now I needed him more than ever. If my dad found out about any of this, I didn’t even want to think what he might do.

 

“That was me, sorry,” Jasper leapt in smoothly, pulling his own phone from his pocket. “Must have hit speed dial when I leaned against the door.”

 

Dad glanced between us both, suspicion still lingering on his face, but soon enough his expression cleared and he shrugged. “Well, see you later.” He waved me away, and I hurried towards the door, shooting Jasper an expression which I hoped conveyed my thanks for what he had just done.

 

“See you, Daddy!” I responded over my shoulder, and finally made it out the door; as soon as it was closed behind me, I let out a long sigh. Finally, I was out of there and in the clear—at least for another day. Jasper observed me as I walked down to the car, and I did my best to pay him no attention—the last thing I needed was him questioning what all that had been about. I didn’t want to have to answer to any more men today—and besides, I needed to get my hair done, and most of the walk-in appointments at the salon went early.