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“What?”
“Hmm.” He swings back to look at me, eyes sweeping over my frame. “She goaded him into it while you were in hospital. Remarkable, no?” No. There’s nothing fucking remarkable about it, and my backside turning and leaving the room in an utter huff shows my contempt for the thought. While I was in hospital, having lost his baby? Really?
If I wasn’t done before I certainly am now.
Tears erupt as I chase through the corridors, shoulders bouncing off walls as I try to come to terms with what I have just heard. That was never on the cards. He told me he wouldn’t, that neither Pascal nor Lilah wanted that. It was only supposed to be me and Pascal. Only ever me and Pascal that he slept with. The tears begin to pour as I rush up the stairs. I’m going now. I have to. There’s nothing left for me here anymore. Not even the trust that kept us all so close together.
I don’t even need to pack my bags. I just grab out the ones already packed and yank on last night's clothes again. I’ll take a car, have someone come and get the rest of my things. I need out of here before Pascal says something that changes my mind or forces me to remember all the good times that have gone.
I’m swinging out of the room before I let his calm tone enter my mind, head shaking to get rid of the thoughts as I hurry back down the stairs again and aim for the front door. No more. I’ve done enough,hadenough. I’m not like them. I can’t keep up, can’t keep in front of them all and their constant game playing. I just wanted love. That’s all. A love that kept us all safe and close. And a baby. Oh god, I want a baby.
I’m grasped and thrown at the wall before I know what’s hit me, Pascal’s body pressing me harshly onto the plasterwork.
“Juvenile,” he spits at me, one last shove before he releases me and I fall to the floor. “Do you believe this tolerable?” My head’s still spinning as I look up at him. “You are as despicable in this as he.” My eyes widen, shocked at his sudden aggressive tone. “All these years Elizabeth and you still know nothing of his needs, do you?” My mouth opens to argue, but at the moment he could well be right. I don’t know anything at all. He snarls down at me, seeming vastly superior in this empty mansion of nothing. Green eyes twinkle under the hall lights, pulling me to them just as they always do. They’re iridescent in my thoughts, filling me with a world of memories of us all together. Laughter, joy, a sense of closeness that those outside these doors will never understand. It’s always been him, hasn’t it? He’s the link in us all, the bond we look for when conflict hangs in the air.
“Hmm? Are you sane again yet?”
Sane? What a word for what we’ve all become.
I sigh and look at the floor, perhaps searching for that sanity that seems to have become lost in my need for children. It’s all been a blur of attempting reality, hoping for it maybe. But we’re not reality, are we? None of us have ever been that. Not like the rest of the world. I glance towards the door and stare at it, desperate in some ways for out there to be part of us. It isn’t. We’re an anomaly of life. An unusual foursome. And all I do is hang on each one of them, and go through my day, usually smiling. At least I am doing when we’re happy.
“I don’t know where he is, Pascal,” I whisper, still looking at the light that shines into the hallway. “I’ve lost him. We’re broken.” There’s a sharp intake of breath from above me, one that resonates inside my own body and makes me sink further down onto the cold tiles below my jeans. My cheek hits the stone, part of me glad of the frigid feeling of it. So cold, lifeless.
Just like he’s become.
“You know exactly where he is, my love,” he says, as a hand comes down in front of me. “He is where he has always been. In need of your love.” He doesn’t need that. He’s not even interested in it, hasn’t been for ages. He’s avoided me. Made a point of staying away.
“The last thing he wants is me, Pascal,” I mutter, ignoring the hand on offer and curling up into a ball. I’ll stay here for a while and collect my thoughts. Get my head back in gear so I can walk out of here with the bloody thing held high. At least I still have that. He taught me that one well.
I’m scooped up and shrugged into his hold before I’m given chance to dwell in my thoughts anymore, his cheek knocking mine into his shoulder. I smile slightly and rest on him, knowing that whatever he’s doing it will be for the best intentions he has. I don’t know what they are, and at the moment I’m not sure I care. It’s warm here in his arms, just like it always is. Safe.
If not precariously balanced on a knife edge of self-doubt.
Chapter 14
Pascal
He locked the door and then fiddled with the handle, checking the knob was secure. A confused Elizabeth was flighty and moronic. It was neither useful nor prudent to the current situation, and so he had deposited her into bed and hummed lullaby’s until she drifted into slumber again. Horrendous, but needs must, and her leaving was not an option at present.
Clothes? Hmm.
He walked along the corridor and then into his own room, perturbed by the lack of Lilah at his side. She should be here for such adventures, no matter the selfish reasoning against such thoughts. He discarded his robe and looked at his cock, a brow arched in contemplation. Lilah would be a diversion from the task at hand, namely reminding Alexander what abusing those in his care manifested into. Perhaps he should wait before calling her, wait until the healing had begun. He shook his head of idiotic ramblings and pulled his suit on, opting for light blue check with a cream shirt and matching waistcoat. A tie? He fingered the rows of them, eventually lifting a dark blue one loose and looping it around his neck. Hmm. Better.
Prepared.
A smile graced his mouth as he picked up his pocket watch to check the time. A gift from Alexander, one that was imprinted with an A and a P on the reverse side. Sweet. The imbecile was not presently being sweet, nor had been for some time. Lessons needed learning. Education was lacking. Why, he could not fathom. Perhaps it was his own sense of fury at being dismissed. Or, more intrinsically, perhaps it was his own rampant need to beat something of use. Alexander was useful in such endeavours. He neither cried nor wailed when the lash landed on his skin. He was oblivious to the pain entirely, perhaps circumventing the strikes into something he stored for anger and hatred of anything that breathed – as and when he needed that sensation. Hmm. How long had it been since Alexander had killed?
He put his phone on speaker, as he tied his Windsor knot, and pressed call, lifting his chin in the mirror for a better view of knot tying. Not that he needed to look.
The call answered. No one spoke.
“Lilah?” A small huff emanated through the air. Lovely. “Where are you?”
“Eden. It’s monotonous. Empty in fact.” She blew out a breath, coughing after the sound.
“Indeed. And will not be filled until I have remodelled.” Why hadn't he organised that yet? He fired off a text to Marco, telling him that he should send one of his horrendous mood boards. In black. With black designs. He looked through to the hall landing. Perhaps burgundy too. Maybe some orange.
“Have you seen these old ledgers in the back safe?” Lilah mused.
