Free Fiendish Play by Angela Richardson

one to change. And not for the better.” Liam closed his eyes and let his head roll backwards, like the weight of the world was tying him down. He straightened himself and opened his eyes again; looking at me once more with those alluring and hopeful brown eyes that now looked sadder than before.
    “I just don’t think I can allow that to happen. It can’t be him. It has to be me.”
    “Why’s that? Why not let him take the responsibility when you clearly want no part of it?”
    He began rubbing one of his eyebrows. You could see the tension lines crinkled on his forehead. “Because his wife is pregnant. Pregnant. What if she has a son...or God forbid, a daughter? You know what happens to the women born into the families of this world.”
    I looked down at my lingerie-clad body knowing exactly what happens. “Yes...” my voice cracked, “I do.”
    “You see. I just don’t think I can let that happen. I keep thinking that if I don’t accept then maybe, just maybe...I can do something to...God...I don’t know...help my family and help people in the same position as me. And I can’t do that if I’m one of them on the inside. Presidents always go down that dark path. It always leads to that place inside the walls of conformity and hatred that I never want to become a part of. It breaks you down. The power, the greed, the secrets. It’s just walls and walls of pain you’ll eventually be trapped in. And the only door out is one you’ll have to sell your soul for. God...almighty...fuck! It’s everything I never want to be. I’m not sure I can sacrifice myself for the sake of a chance that I will be different. I trust who I am, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do what I need to do against their type of influence.”
    The way he spoke made me think I was speaking to myself. But I still needed to know why he was revealing himself so openly. I needed to feel like I could maybe...I don’t know...trust him. Because the strange thing was, I believed him, and I secretly wanted to hear more.
    “Why are you telling me all of this? You know I’m elite right? I’m supposed to tell them your secrets. I’m supposed to give them information they don’t already know. And I know you would already know this. You would be aware of consequences. So why share all this detail with a stranger like me, knowing I could walk out to the guards right now and expose you?”
    “Maybe it’s because I want to be found out. I want this all to end. I want to finally be free, and death is my only answer. So I don’t care. Tell them all of my doubts, hesitation and beliefs. Tell them that I wish I knew a way to bring them down. Tell them if I had a chance to expose them, I would. If I can’t be a true artist and express my real dreams and desires, then I’m nothing anyway. I will never allow myself to be my own version of a prison. And as much as I want to step up and keep my brother out of the spotlight, I just don’t know if I’m brave enough to tackle all this. It’s like playing with a nuclear bomb. I’m no hero...I’m just a guy who knows the difference between right and wrong...and these people...this group...are the worst kind of wrong.”
    I could only watch on. I had had the same exact thoughts. The same beliefs and feeling of entrapment and despair. There was poetry in his darkness and in the way he openly vented himself. He was a true artist. An artist to the end, because that was what he was doing. Telling me all this so I could give his life away. He would know that any other elite woman would throw him to the wolves. But when I looked at him, holy fuck, I wanted so badly for him to fight. Fight alongside with me.
    I didn’t know what I should do next. Should I really report him like I’m supposed to? Or should I listen to the one real true voice in my head that screams to me every single day to find a way out. Perhaps I didn’t believe that what he was saying was real, but I stared at him for a long