I stay statue still for a few minutes, waiting for the sound of her breathing to even out. And as soon as it does, I run from the room.
Chest heaving, I stand before the door that leads to the west tower. I can barely breathe. The space around me has grown thick with humidity, and I swear I can see beads of condensation sliding down the wood of the door.
That insidious atmosphere is back with a vengeance, and all possible warning bells are going off in my mind.Something is wrong.
I should go up, right? I know what the rules are, but he’s hurting up there. Should I wake up the master of the house? Oscar? Would that be wasting time, when I could run up these steps in a matter of seconds and be by his side?
I don’t like the idea of him being in pain. He’s too small, too soft to be crying like this. What if something bad has happened? What if someone isup therewith him?What if they’re hurting him?!
“Ugh.”His groan comes again, louder now that I’m at the door.
My hand shoots out, wrapping around the doorknob. It’s warm to the touch.
“What are you doing?” Atticus’s voice startles me. He sounds angry.
I angle my body to be able to see him, while still keeping my grip on the door. I can’t seem to let go, as if some invisible force is keeping me glued to it even as it burns hotter and hotter.
“Your sister called me. She was having a nightmare. On my way out, I heard… I think Atlas is in trouble.”
Atticus walks straight toward me, a glare I’ve never seen taking shape over his features. He takes my wrist and peels my hand off the door, pushing himself between me and the entrance.
“This doesn’t concern you. Leave.”
“But he needs help! If I can’t go up,yougo up,” I demand, my own anger rising to meet his.
“No, Julian. I am your employer, and you will obey.Leave my brother alone. Mind your business.” Atticus stares me down, his tone unrelenting as he speaks to me as if I’m an impudent child.
“So you’ll let him suffer, then?” I push. “You’ll let him cry alone?”
“I have no choice!” he shouts. “It’s the way these things are done. Do not try to tell me how to love my brother. He ismybrother and absolutely nothing to you.”
In the way his eyes fall to stare at the hardwood beneath my feet, in the way his brow furrows and his lips tilt into a guiltyfrown, I can see that this is crushing him. Hewantsto help; he wants to go upstairs. And just like me, he cannot.
Sweat dots his hairline, and he breathes heavily.
I’m realizing for the first time that I’ve never truly seen Atticus upset before. I’m realizing that maybe he loves his family so much that it’s turned him vicious and territorial. Paranoid.
“Sorry,”I concede quietly. “I was just scared for him. I’ll leave now. Let me know if you need anything.”
With a dismissive nod from Atticus, I turn and head back toward my bedroom.
How strange these people are, the Chastains. And how peculiar that I care for them all so much already.
Atlas
5
MY BODY IS ONfire. Soaked in sweat and thoroughly exhausted even after going to bed so early.
As the morning sun filters in through the skylight and the window next to my bed, I run my shaking fingers over the duvet lying under me.
I’m awake. I’m alone. It’s over.
But it’s not… not really. Sometimes, when it’s all said and done, I feel immense relief and mild satisfaction, though I’ll never admit it. Yet, other times, I am left like this: overheating and drowning in physical sensations that I cannot rid my mind or body of. Need and desperation take over, and I fear being around others.
I fear them seeing me in this compromising position or taking someone innocent like Julian and making passes at him.
A part of me wishes it would come back, that it would help me relieve more of this tension, but I don’t know how to call on it. I don’t know how to ensure I won’t end up in an even worse condition afterward.
