I am doomed to love him in this purgatory for the rest of time, stuck in this forever loneliness.
Maybe this is the consequence of my own actions. Maybe the Lord is punishing me for not finding a need to frequent the chapel. I used to go almost every time the incubus touched me; I used to beg for forgiveness every time I felt pleasure from that demon.
But after Julian, after he assured me that I was making the best out of a bad situation, I… I didn’t feel so horrible anymore, I guess.
I think I was meant to. And now, now I’m being locked away to repent, all under the guise ofprotecting me.
I push up from the hardwood floor and crawl to my bed, resting my elbows on the soft mattress as I bow my head.
“Dear Lord, please forgive me for my weak disposition,” I whisper. “Grant me mercy in the face of my misfortune and allow me to repent for my own sick desires. I’m sorry, amen.”
Another sob claws its way up my throat. As if I haven’t cried enough, as if I haven’t realistically spent all of my tears mourning the man I’ve fallen completely in love with, they begin to fall again.
“D-dear Lord,” I choke out, “please forgive me for my weak disposition. Grant me m-mercy in the face of my misfortune and allow me to repent for my own s-sick desires—”
As the door to my quarters opens, I panic, falling backward and onto my backside. I make no move to stand. I am notstronger than any single person in this castle—outside of Abigail— so I know I would not get far if I tried to shove past them and run.
My mother and father close the door behind themselves anyway, looking down at where I sit on the floor next to my bed. They take in my tear-soaked face, my dirty pajamas, and my bloodshot eyes.
“Darling,” Mother coos softly, slowly approaching where I sit with her arms outstretched.
I do not take her hands; I scoot further away and use the mattress as leverage, pulling myself up to sit on the edge of my bed.
Something in her face falls, and she looks at her own hands, as if sensing the poison on them.
“Atty,” Father tries next, moving to stand next to his wife, his voice hesitant. “Are you alright?”
“Alright?” I mimic, my voice sounding even rougher now that someone is around to hear it. “Am I…alright?”
They stare at me. My loving, gentle parents, who have spent my entire life doting on and coddling their children, stare at me with wide, terrified eyes in the tower they allowed my brother to lock me in.
“I love him, Papa,” I confide, my voice just barely above a whisper as I look between the two of them. “I have never loved someone so fiercely, wanted something so badly. And Atticuslocked mein here, hid me from him. Took him away from me.”
“Atlas,” Mother pleads, sitting on the bed next to me and angling her body to face me. She attempts to take my hands in hers, but I pull them away. “There isnothingwrong with lovingJulian. But he can’t be here; it’s not safe for either of you. And Atticus says you were trying to leave with him. If that is the case, he made the right call.”
“The right call,” I mutter sarcastically, staring at the duvet. “I’m never going to be free, Momma. You understand this, yes?” I raise my eyes to meet hers. “I willneverbe cured. Is this the life you’re giving me? To be locked up here, away from Julian and the world outside, all becauseyoubelieve there might be a chance this cure appears?”
“Atlas!” Father shouts. “Don’t say such things! We are actively scouring for information on the cure. We are even considering bringing in another priest.”
Oh. So Atticus didn’t mention theBlack Bookor the psychic that Julian visited to our parents? How curious.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say dismissively. “It’s been years. If God wanted me to be free, he would have shown us the way.”
“You don’t know that,” Mother insists. “Have faith, baby. We are only trying to protect you, to protect Julian. Don’t you want him to be safe?”
I watch her soft features, coated in sadness, as she waits hopefully for my response.
Idowant Julian to be safe. More than anything else, actually. But selfishly, I alsowant him. I want to feel him next to me; I crave his watchful eyes assessing our surroundings and keeping me in sight, his hands brushing my skin so softly.
If I am never to be saved, then I’d like to battle this cursewithJulian, even if it’s dangerous for us both. Does that diminish my love for him? Does it make me a terrible person? I do not know. I know nothing.
I’m just a horrible, sweet little thing after all.
So I say nothing. I give her no response.
Eventually, Father sighs. “We are going to keep looking, Atty. We are going to save you.”
With that, they leave my room, and I can hear the chain slide into place on the other side, and their footsteps retreating.
