EMMA

Tears threaten to fall as he finishes his story. Of course, he tells his history as if it happened to someone else. I look up, blinking them away, knowing he wouldn't like it if I cried for him. I draw a deep breath and look at his face, anger stamped across his features.

"What happened to him?" I ask quietly.

"Sisyphus?" he pushes out through his teeth.

"Yes. I remember stories about him in mythology class. The story of him forever pushing a boulder."

"Yes, that is true, well forever until he died. I did that because he was always so concerned with getting higher in society. So I made him climb the mountain every day. I had others make sure he had food and water to keep him alive. He pushed that rock up that fucking mountain until his dying breath and still it wasn't enough punishment." His anger beat at her, and he looked at her with an expectant look.

I realize that he is waiting to see if I will concur with what he chose. "I agree. I'm so sorry for what happened to you. What is it that you want now? Who still needs to be punished?" I ask, curious of the response.

"ALL of them! Those that made me and he who threw me away. I want you to help me reach your friend."

I feel a pressure in my head, reminding me of a time that I went diving on vacation. As I descended, my head felt like someone was squeezing it. Narrowing my eyes, I study his face as I answer, "I don't think I can help you." Shock flares in his eyes.

"Come here," he demands.

I sit looking at him with one eyebrow arched, the pressure had returned as he spoke. He is trying to use his power on me, and I’m curious why it isn't working. Frustrated, he lunges to his feet, lurching to my side. His hands are shaking as he grabs my upper arms, his fingers digging in. My alabaster skin will be bruised in mere hours from his grip, but I glare at him in defiance. He shoves me toward the house and yells at a guard that had stood near during our meal, "Take her to her room!"

I look back at him as we reach the door. Even from this distance, I can see how rigid his back is held. I have a moment of doubt; maybe I should have played along. I worry at my lip as we climb the stairs. A hand touches my back, right between my shoulder blades, before I'm shoved through my door. I hit the floor hard, the impact causing me to cry out. I glare back at my escort. He's grinning. "I'm glad you pissed him off, now maybe he'll let us play with you." His lecherous look tells me how he wishes to play, and I scramble to my feet, moving to put the bed between us. His tongue runs over his lips as he steps out and closes the door.

The sound of the lock sliding into place causes me to release the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I'm frozen for a moment before I grab the chair from the desk, shoving the top under the door handle. Pacing my room, I ponder the revelation that his power doesn't work on me. Chewing my lip, I recall talking to Aislin's Grandda once when I was young. Conall Flanery was as close to a grandfather as I had, as both my real ones died before I was born. This particular day he had picked me up from my house. Mom had said Aislin wanted to play with me, but I knew he had come because daddy was bad again. Ever since daddy had a bad episode when Aislin had come over one day, Conall came whenever mom needed him to. I spent so much time at their house and not once did Conall ever mention daddy's problems. He only made sure I had a soft, safe place to land in the middle of the storm. On the drive down St. Charles Street, I asked him some silly question. He proceeded to talk to me about how I could have figured it out all by myself if I just took a minute and thought it through. He said 'Emma girl, you are smart. I want both of you girls to be able to think for yourselves. From now on, I'm giving you a riddle every time I pick you up. We are going to build your problem-solving skills. People who can solve their own problems achieve great things in this world.'

Well, I can't even tell you how many riddles I solved through the years. It took many years to realize it was Conall's way of distracting me from the chaos of my life. I can tell you that Aislin and I, we solve our own issues. I don't ask for help, and the last time I got some, well that was Conall. He helped fund my school, a loan that I paid back within a year. He didn't want me to, said I was his girl as much as Aislin, but I wouldn't hear of it. He'd be so disappointed in me if he saw me floundering like I am now. Moving to the bed, I crawl up near the headboard and settle in. Criss-cross applesauce, as I tell my dance students. Closing my eyes, I begin drawing deep breaths in and letting them out, calming the disarray in my mind. Now think, Emma.

I have no idea how long I have sat here, following one train of thought after another, before discarding them all. Pounding my fists in frustration, I jump up. Why? Why doesn't his power work on me? What makes me different?

I stumble to a stop and smack my forehead. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. God, how fucking dumb can you be, Emma?" A smile curves my lips and I picture myself as the Grinch when he gets his evil plan. Thank you, Conall. I am ninety-nine percent sure now. I suppose I should also thank scarlet fever. I had the fever when I was little, mom and dad thinking I was going to die. I spent a week in the hospital before I finally started to feel better. I recovered completely, except for my hearing. The medical term is diplacusis. Basically, I hear fine, it's just at two different tones. Music is slightly off for me, and so are people's… Voices. I'm guessing that's why I felt the pressure in my head when he was trying to force me to agree with him. I wished this helped me, other than letting me have my free will, that is.