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“Bugger all! Fine. I have a suggestion to make.” Celeste’s voice takes a serious turn, the monotonous one she’s used twice in the long years we’ve spent together in The Pit. The first was to ask her father why he sold her and the second was to tell him goodbye before she held a gun to his head. “After you snobs escaped The Pit, I became a veteran. I’ve met the head of The Pit— personally. I can tell you who he is and how to find him. That way, Tristan and Dylan get their revenge.”
Too good to be true. The Pit’s head is practically a ghost, no one has met him personally, but this is Celeste, she wouldn’t offer a losing deal. “Your conditions?”
“You do know me.?
? She laughs, genuinely this time. “That I would have many conditions, not one, I mean.”
“What are they?”
Her voice goes back to its seriousness. “First is obviously money. You’re rich, I’m sure you can pay me whatever price I name.”
I meet Mae’s slightly spooked eyes, and she reverts her attention to Silver. Even if Celeste is the key to bloody salvation, I’ll still kill her. She dared to hurt someone under my protection.
Besides, she said it herself, it’s Tristan and Dylan’s revenge, not mine. True, it would be thrilling to hunt the nameless ghost and kill him slowly for taking Uncle away, but I’m sure there’s another way. I play along nonetheless. “Second?”
“We take off!” There’s excitement in her voice. “I assume you got bored with your pet already and will kill her soon. Therefore, nothing would tie you down anymore. It’s going to be fun, Aaron. Just you and me. Solo. Like the good old days. You must miss that freedom.”
“We were never free back then. We were trained dogs to murder.” And did she say... bored? My gaze looms over Mae’s neckline, her plump lips, her thick strands, and her small smile as she pats Silver. I’m anything but bored. In fact, I don’t remember the last time a human being peeked my interest in such an obsessive way.
Not since the withering memories with Uncle.
“Do you mean to tell me you’re free now?” I can imagine Celeste clicking her tongue.
“No.” I bore my eyes into Mae’s, drowning into their softness. “But I have a reason to want so.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mae
I miss Aaron’s voice. It’s like a distant sweet song I want to hear again but can’t. I learnt to stop searching for it like I learnt to kill my rosy expectations for Arthur’s redemption. Both will never lighten my life. I’m forever subjugated to this darkness. This is my choice. I can’t blame it on anyone but myself. I could’ve said no. I could’ve ran away, but I was too blinded by loving Arthur that I ignored his cruelty. All until his atrocious deeds slapped me in the face. Then Aaron came, and any chance I had of escaping this place vanished in thin air. I couldn’t take him and run. Arthur would’ve never allowed me to snatch his heir away. If I file for a divorce and go to court, his power will crush my father’s and he will never let me see my child again. He’ll raise him into a worse monster than he is and I’ll lose both of them for good.
But even if I got the chance, would I really leave Arthur? Could I?
I turn the page in search of the answer but there’s only another entry a few days after, talking about her pretentious mother-in-law.
Dammit. Was Aaron the only reason his mother stayed with his tyrant father? If no, then what type of love would allow such extremes? It’s both confusing and fascinating.
Based on other entries, Aaron’s mother knew all about her husband’s horrible deeds, but ignored them. She said it helped her cope with her reality, yet from her heavily-scarred emotions, they seem to weigh on her more than she likes to admit. She says she loves her son, but she’s happier when he’s with his uncle rather than with her.
A horrible thought comes to mind. What if she hated Aaron for being the reason behind her enclosure in this place?
I close the journal with a loud whack. Reading bits and pieces about Aaron’s miserable childhood always leaves me with a foul taste. The more I read, the tighter my stomach twists at his mother’s dark sense of sacrifice and her odd relationship with her husband.
I should’ve not retrieved the journal. Yet, when Aaron took me to the room I occupied to get my clothes, I couldn’t help but slip it under my baggy pullover.
Despite having Aaron with me, I wanted out of that room as soon as possible. Being there triggered the rotten memories of that man.
After our first horse ride a week ago, Aaron was kind enough to move me to my current room. Although smaller than the other one, it’s similarly decorated with beige and brown patterns like a vintage hotel room I couldn’t afford. I stand beside the window, immediately lost in the foreshadowed forest in the distance. The thought of a person— or a family— owning such a large, seemingly endless property is mesmerising. Dad told me about his colleagues from old and new money, but this is beyond anything I’ve imagined.
I retrieve my sketchbook and charcoal pencil and allow my muse to shape the trees in the distance. The gloom adds a mystical, yet a shadowy hue to the shapes of trees.
It’s useless to fight whatever darkness my muse unleashes. Even the portraits I drew for Silver and Jet turned into phantom horses. I let my hands sketch whatever they like. Except for the faceless man who keeps demanding features. I have a few theories about the man’s identity, but I’m not admitting it— even to myself.
The door clicks open. I jolt up, but I’m quick enough to hide the sketchbook under the pillow and smile at Aaron. He’s in a dashing grey suit. Not the right outfit.
My smile drops. “Where are your horse riding clothes?” I open the wardrobe for my jacket.
His face remains impassive. “We’re not going today, kitten. It will rain.”
