Ginger Fox Part 2

“What do you do when you can’t tie people up?” He raises his head to me, pondering my question.
“I avoid them,” he replies quickly, returning to his chair now that his sleeves are neatly rolled up.
“Why didn’t you just avoid me, Jonathan?” His large hands flatten on the desk, using it to pull his chair closer, positioning himself near the table.
“Because I didn’t want to, Miss Fox. Now answer my question.”
Control. My brain answers my own question as I look at him. His need for control over everything around him is as essential as the air he breathes. And at this moment, despite my anger at him for keeping me tied up, I feel a pang of pain imagining how difficult his condition must be.
“I’ll leave you there until you speak, Ginger,” Roy says quietly, tilting his head to rest on his shoulder, admiring the position he has put me in.
And the thin layer of empathy I had for him dissolves the moment he opens that big, nasty mouth of his. I lower my head, trying to lift one of my arms just enough for him to see my middle finger raised at him.
“Excellent, the choice is yours.” I smile, feeling victorious at his quickened breath, cursing softly.
I return to my previous position, watching him analyze the documents on his desk as if it were just another normal day in his office.
“And if I need to pee?” Roy raises a document and his hand, glancing quickly at me before returning his gaze to his papers.
“Do it in your pants.” I wrinkle my nose, refusing to believe he’ll leave me here in this position for long.
“What if I’m hungry? I haven’t had lunch yet, I might be hungry.” He breathes slowly, shrugging.
“I can ask them to bring cake.” A cynical smile spreads across his lips as he looks at me. “I haven’t eaten anything since the early morning either.”
“Bastard!” I mumble angrily, turning my cheeks against the back of the chair and looking away.
I feel the leather tightening, my wrists burning, and my legs growing numb from the weight of my body on them for so long. My arms are almost dislocated from the strain, stretching as much as they can. It’s strange how being contorted like this distracts me from the mixed emotions flooding me. It’s as if my mind is organizing itself, digesting all the information it has received. I sigh quietly, feeling like a chick stuck in a nest—hating being there but also finding it safe. Roy remains silent, allowing only the sound of his calm breathing to fill the room. The first tears come strongly, taking over uncontrollably. It’s as if exhaustion has reached me without a specific cause—just everything. I just want to cry. Cry for Jon, cry for Baby, who hid for so long, cry for hating this man in front of me and yet wanting to alleviate the suffering I see in his eyes. And the tears, which I had locked away to release only when I was in my room, come now without barriers or shame. The comfortable silence in this room makes me feel safe to break down in front of him. I feel selfish, small in the face of Baby and Jon’s suffering. I think my life is cruel and petty for being too cowardly to admit that my relationship with Tom had failed long ago, for not having put an end to it when neither of us had the courage to, until it reached the point of betrayal. For not looking my mother in the eye and being honest about how I hate peach color, that I don’t want wedding invitations, that I never dreamed of any of that. All out of fear. Fear of hurting her, fear of failing my father, fear of saying out loud to Tom that I don’t love him anymore and that he can sleep with as many women as he wants—it doesn’t hurt me, because nothing has hurt me as much as the last years with him, pretending to be happy.
I’m a coward, a scaredy-cat. I’m weak and a prisoner of fear just like Baby was. For ten years I tried to be the perfect woman who would stand by Tom, erasing myself, killing my soul every time I forced a smile on my face, being the proper woman he wanted. I was a silenced woman, who kept quiet in the face of Tom’s demands, but out of love, or perhaps just to avoid disappointing him, I accepted, lowered my head, just doing whatever he wanted, becoming someone I wasn’t. My tears tear through my throat with sobs and sniffles, squeezing my eyes tightly shut to keep them closed, just listening to my suffering in this room. I’m not tied to this chair; I’m imprisoned within myself, just as Baby was inside James, being what she wasn’t. Being the image others wanted her to be, until she sought comfort in drugs just to silence herself. But she was there. No matter what her soul went through, it was there, crying to be free.
“I can’t be focusing on this if I have to be concerned about your inappropriate behavior. Start behaving like the woman you will be.”
I recall Tom’s words in my mind, making me cry even harder. The desire I felt to cry that day, because of how he judged me, resurfaces now, spilling out with the erratic beats of my heart. Who was I? What kind of woman was I supposed to be? The perfect wife of Tom, who was made a fool of, or the woman I kept locked inside me?

I don't know exactly how long I cry, only that when everything falls silent, I no longer feel the pain in my heart. I slowly open my eyes, caught by the pair of serene eyes watching me from the edge of the desk. I hadn't heard him get up, and I don’t know if he’s been there for a long time, watching me cry, but it's not disapproval I see in his blue irises, like the look Tom would give me for being emotionally disturbed, for being weak. Roy just looks at me as if he knows that at this moment, I need this cry and the silence of his office, not the solitude of my room.
“Could you please untie my arms?” I ask softly, my voice still trembling, sniffling. “I need to clean my face…”
His face tilts to the side as he looks at the drying tears on my cheek.
“What happened that made you run into the mansion?” Jonathan uncrosses his arms and walks over to me. His large hand brushes the back of his skin over my face, wiping my cheeks and removing the tears, letting me know he won’t be letting me go just yet.
I turn my face, looking away, sighing softly.
“Baby had forgotten to tell me something,” I whisper slowly, gazing out the window, my attention on the blue sky outside.
“What?” The birds outside fly freely in the sky, their graceful movements among the clouds capturing my attention.
“That she had been born in a man’s body,” I murmur, pressing my cheek against the leather of the chair.
“And how did you feel, Gim? Did you feel disgusted by her?”
“No!” I look back at him, seeing him serious, analyzing my response. “I would never feel that way about Baby.”
Roy returns to the desk, leaning against it as he watches me.
“What did you feel?” His eyes don’t miss a thing, staying focused on my face, waiting for an answer.
“Upset… I think that’s how I felt.” I look lost at him, telling him how I’m feeling. “I was angry knowing that they hid this from Jon, I felt betrayed by her for not trusting me, and upset for discovering what happened in Sodom in this way…”
Jonathan’s almost irritating with his controlled face, calmly observing me. He breathes steadily, crossing his arms again.
“Not everyone wants to expose their demons, Gim.” He turns slightly, pressing a button on his computer keyboard.
The television on the wall lights up, showing my face on the screen as I introduce myself in the video I had sent to get the job. Roy fast-forwards the video, pausing at the end. My face is frozen, with a sad look.
“When my men found James, after searching for him for two months through alleyways and brothels, they brought him straight to me. His look was like yours, Ginger.” I see my battered face on the screen, the hair trying to hide my swollen eyes. “Baby had been hiding for a long time, wishing to be born, and it was long past time to set her free.”
I turn my gaze back to Mr. Roy, who is attentively watching my face on the TV screen.