Temper: Book One of the Taboo Series, page 13
He stood and zipped his jeans closed. We were silent as he lifted my hand to his lips and walked back to the house.
He spun to me before we could step into the house. “Soon,” he reminded me. He lifted me for a kiss as we separated in the dining room, his spirit brooding. Before he turned away I caught a glint of determination in his eyes. Worry and pride danced in my chest as he walked away.
I knew the key held answers. I prayed they could heal Earnest and Hugh. The heaviness of the burdens made me want to run away, but I couldn’t be so callous. Earnest took me into his house out of obligation. He always looked away from the neglect and abuse I suffered. I envied his ability to shut off empathy for another’s need.
I turned into Earnest’s room and heard the silence. His chest rose and fell frighteningly shallow. Panic surged as I rushed to the machines.
I grabbed the chords from the floor battled to connect them to their instruments and put them back on him. Even his oxygen machine was shut down.
I had no idea what I was doing.
Intuition screamed it was the moment they made all finishing attempts. His skin was sallow. If it wasn’t for the rasps in his chest I would have already thought him dead.
Adrenaline consumed me as I started flipping switches yet failing to connect tubes or sensors. Tears spilled down my face in desperation and rage as high-pitched squeals from the machinery filled the air. I wanted to cover my ears, the screams telling me I was doing everything wrong. I was lost in a hell of flashing lights with his soul on the edge, falling away because of my own ineptitude.
He never flinched or moved to block the deafening sounds. I didn’t hear the drum of running feet. All I knew to do was fight as a fist wrapped around my neck and began dragging me across the room.
I tore into soft skin with my nails, refusing to be broken again, locked away, beaten, and starved. I felt the threat in the gripping hands. I heard it in the muffled voice far from my mind. Sparks flashed in my eyes as I tried to escape.
Life froze as my eyes met Grandfathers. His hand lifted and reached for me. I felt his desire to finally save me.
Too late.
Chapter 25- Smear
His fingers slumped, his eyes lost focus, and his chest deflated. The stillness of the air and room slammed into me.
I bit down hard on the hand loosened in shock. I twisted out of reach and scrambled to my feet.
I stared into the palest blue eyes hosting the darkest soul. Elizabeth cradled her hand as blood streamed from my teeth marks. I expected her other hand to raise. When it collided with my cheek, bitterness spilled through my veins.
The monster she created sprang forth. I became possessed by the menace I fought too long to repress. I laughed at her deviant snarl as every nerve in my body burned away. The pain from her fist should have rocked me, but it was simply an invitation.
I lunged. Her hands knotted in my hair as she fought to distance herself from my fury. I buried all of my rage into her through my nails and fists. I connected my frustration and pain into every bone I could reach, unable to see through the veil of hair.
Her cries strengthened my power. I pressed against her, refusing to allow her freedom from her own creation. She crumbled as I threw my elbow into her face. She was on her knees, screaming and begging me to stop. It felt right.
I couldn't rationalize. I never cared to gain control. I channeled the agony from every drop of blood she ever shed from my body, every moment of hunger and weakness she forced me to endure. I could taste her flesh in my teeth. I could smell her blood. I needed to forever feel her failing beneath me. I lifted my foot and aimed for her ribs as my body was snapped back.
The arms restraining me from behind were too strong to break through. I threw my head back, kicked, and twisted.
I fought the blows of sanity pushing into me as I was forced to still. A deep, cracking moan rattled in her chest. A grin spread across my lips as I peered down at her. She hid her face behind her hands as she pulled into a ball of terror and shock.
I knew somewhere deep in the quietest parts of my mind it was wrong. The venom didn’t belong to who I wanted to be, but the toxic fury felt pure. I worshiped the creature I became for such a small, victorious moment.
I was lifted and carried from the room. I barely made an effort to fight the hands I came to recognize. My feet landed hard on the wood floor of Ruth's bedroom as the door slammed closed. My chest still heaved as I tried to regain control. My body didn’t understand what happened though my heart still rang with war-cries.
He’s gone. The paralyzing thought began to creep into my mind as Hugh’s voice tried to disconnect me from the monster.
The beast possessing me growled and backed into a shadowed corner of my mind. Hugh's arms circled me and I gladly stepped against his damp chest. I could hear his own struggle for composure. If he was frightened I should be terrified.
He brushed the hair from my face. His hand pulled away and I stared at the blood that tinted his fingers. Fascination saturated his whisper. “You’re beautiful.”
My head rested against his chest as I tried to find mental balance. His heartbeat was heavy as though he was the one who maimed the demon. His lips caressed my face. I inhaled his calmness and pulled it as far into my being as I could. “What happened?” he asked into my hair.
“Grandfather died.” It sounded too simple for it to have unleashed my own demon. I pulled back as he dragged his long fingers through his hair. His eyes closed tight against his own guilt. “This isn’t your fault, Hugh. You didn’t harm him,” I reminded him. He nodded in understanding but remained wordless. He seemed lost and scared as he looked me over and began checking for new bruises.
The war had started. I knew my tantrum and the fury that bellowed within me had angered her. I would soon be made small again by her hand.
✷✴✷
Hugh became pacified when he realized I came to no harm. I pulled the door open and peered across to Grandfather’s room. Electricity whizzed through my veins at the sight of his shape beneath a white sheet. There was a large smear of blood on the floor where she crumbled.
I stood in the hall to watch and listen from all sides as Hugh slipped from the room. He hesitated at the thought of leaving me. I put a hand to his chest, nudging him away. “I’ll be fine,” I lied.
I worried she would lock me away again. I slid the key from against my heart and looked over the shape. I knew there was limited time before she would appear with revenge in hand.
I hurried across the hall into Earnest’s room. I kept my ears trained for footsteps as I began to search. I pulled picture frames from the wall, rifled through drawers, and threw all of the clothes in the closet to the side. I expected to find a safe or maybe a lockbox but there was none.
There was a safe in Grandmother’s study, but it was modernized with a key code. I sunk to the floor, stared at her blood, and tried not to be too angry that he didn’t tell me more.
I knew of no other locks besides those on doors. It looked small but the house was old. Hope swelled in me at the idea of him giving me a way to escape if she were to lock me away again. I rushed back to my room and pushed the key into the knob. It wouldn’t turn.
My eyes darted with my thoughts as I peered towards the locked door down from my own. I slipped from my shoes for stealth. I paused, doubt pecking at my mind. I fantasized often about the danger hidden within the room.
The key slid in. I swayed in the hall, unable to decide if I should venture into the unknown, or run from it.
My eyes fastened closed as the door slipped open. When no growls met my ears I chanced a peek. My eyes widened as they took in the room.
It was too similar to Mother’s room back home. Small differences caught my eye but were inconsequential compared to the intense similarities. The red carpet, crimson walls, and canopy bed were exact replicas. Which room was created as a reminder, that one or hers?
I locked the door behind myself before tucking the key back into hiding. I stepped toward the picture that stood on the nightstand. It was the sole personal item in the room. The glass was gone from the frame but for one long, sharp shard. I looked down at a dusty and faded picture.
In it, a young Elizabeth grinned up at me. The shadowed side of her face was darkened further by a bruise around her eye. Her arm was wrapped around a young boy with short, dark, curling sprouts of hair and warm brown eyes. He felt familiar by the shape of his little nose and chin. His cheeks seemed too thin for such a young age. His eyes had witnessed too much.
William.
The realization shook me with a whisper from deep within the walls. I stood with a snap of my spine. I stared at the mysterious younger brother of Elizabeth. He looked so innocent next to her.
I peered across the room, still unsure of why it was so important. The reflection of Ruth’s room back home held no significance. It could have been a coincidence.
I began to open the empty drawers, peered beneath the bed, and searched the empty closet. There was nothing but a suit wrapped in plastic hanging on the rod. I noted the height and thinness of the man who must have worn it. It would have fit Hugh almost perfectly.
As I turned I saw the pages that weren’t tucked well enough beneath the mattress. I pulled one out while trying not to tear the old, brittle paper.
Ruth stared at me from the newspaper, young and smiling. She was a modern princess. The headline read, “Missing and unstable.”
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I shoved the mattress, revealing hidden the pages. They were the secrets of the family he wanted me to find, scattered beneath a red canopy.
I stared down at the box spring covered with old pages from similar newspapers. My eyes jumped from picture to picture as I tried to absorb the headlines.
I began to collect them and skim the words. With every article, my heart dropped further from my body.
Every page named William and Ruth. There were clips from amber alerts announcing my mother's kidnapping. Disbelief clouded my thoughts as I sunk to the floor, rereading every word.
Elizabeth made Ruth look guilty for destroying William and punished me for the sins of my mother. The secret pages revealed the truth behind her lies.
I stared at the images. Some pictures were black and white while others were faded colors, but all were too grainy and old. There was something wrong with every picture as though the ink was smeared over the man’s face with tears and fingerprints. My blood froze as I lifted the last page.
The picture was untouched. It was insanity captured and printed. It was faded from age but still too clear.
She looked feral- raw and covered in blood. Her teeth were bared in a savage scream. Her clothes were torn, her hair limp, and everything was smeared with a layer of blood. Bruises riddled her face and body as black sutures protruded from her hairline. There was so much pain in the one picture.
In the background stood the door to a beaten house. Propped between two police officers stood the villain. His head lolled back as his chest glowed pale and bare. Blood saturated the features of his face.
Blood poured from a gaping wound in his abdomen. His jeans lay opened. I couldn’t imagine the horrors the simple observation meant.
I sunk onto the floor and prayed for her to hear me. I heard the screams in my mind. I felt her fear and wanted to block it out. I hated my grandfather for wanting me to find the history. Even in death, his intentions remained cruel.
Grandmother loved William even after what he did to her daughter. She already won in a sense. She let him break Ruth. I could feel the weight of her sin. It wasn’t enough for her. I sat and stared at the pages for too long, absorbing their meaning.
I steadied my emotions and dried my face. I felt as though I betrayed my mother for despising her after giving in to the trauma. I still couldn't fathom why she took her life on that particular day but swore to look deeper into her past.
I stood, threw the pages back, and pulled the mattress over to hide the secrets meant to deter and destroy me. She’d find no weakness in my heart. She’d fail beneath me again. I’d give everything to feel it.
Chapter 26- Carved
The weeks ticked by with no sight of Elizabeth. She was absent even from meals. Every plate set before me gave a shiver of nerves yet remained meatless. I trusted nothing. Hugh was still to come home on the weekends from what I understood, but I could taste the difference in the air and the food.
I asked Hannah, the butler, and anyone else that I could find when Grandfather’s funeral was. No one knew. Docile Hannah lost herself to the frustration. My questions sent her into a rant about disrespect and her inclination to find other work.
I wanted to ask where her son was but knew I couldn’t. The wicked joy we shared in the garden and the comfort we brought each other in Ruth’s room were our last moments. I wandered the house and gardens to search for him every weekend. I never could find him and he never came to me.
I doubted he and Elizabeth came to a different agreement. He would have told me. I began to see signs of him. He would arrange the books in the library so the titles matched up to spell sweet messages. Once I found a bundle of cold, brittle white roses on the bench in the garden. They stood out against the decay and dormant plants.
Mr. Hubert finally returned to finish my education. There were a few weeks of work left before I could receive my diploma and rushed through it, desperate for a reprieve from the torrid emotions possessing me.
A month slipped by and my sweet clues and messages suddenly vanished. The delusion of a runaway marriage faded in a coal-black smoke.
I sat at breakfast and stared at my plate with wary observation. I had yet to decipher what the meals signified. I glanced up in silent surprise and trepidation as Elizabeth sat.
She looked me in the eyes as she placed her napkin in her lap. Her focus never strayed from mine as a servant rushed from the swinging kitchen doors. She said nothing as she sat but her grinning gaze never left me. I kept my spine straight and arched my brow in my polite way of barbarically banging my chest.
My heart worked itself into a frenzy. I kept my movements calm and stoic. Simply lifting the glass of tea to my lips was a chore. I didn’t dare stand first and let her see my knees shake.
When she stood I saw the gleam in her eyes and the smirk on her lips. She pranced from the room but I didn’t dare loosen my muscles and sink into my chair as I wanted. I was paranoid her eyes were still on me and she was watching from around the corner.
My thoughts were trapped by the joy and satisfaction she exuded. Victory had shone in her eyes.
Our days continued in the same exhausting manner. Her presence weighed against mine as she tried to dominate at meals. I began to hear her stepping softly behind me as she followed me through the house. I realized she was tracking me and keeping my routine. It was disconcerting, yet I feigned oblivion.
Spring brought its havoc. The garden began to reach to the sky with long fingered branches. Hugh wasn’t there to tame it. There was no love to bring it to life as week after week I realized no colors bloomed.
Worry for him overshadowed my self-pity. I needed to know why he vanished. I feared Elizabeth did something to him. Terrible images of her keeping him trapped in her own box began to invade my days.
The day before my seventeenth birthday I lost hope. I came to the conclusion that I had exaggerated his love. I must have gripped too strongly or frightened him away with my storm.
I lay trying to sleep as the anxiety crept into my mind. Always I tossed and turned, but that night felt more solemn. My tears spread across the pillow as the clock counted the hours toward sunrise. My parents’ death was still vivid in my memory. It tore through me as the rain beat against the window, mimicking the haunting day and taunting me.
Once again, I lost my mind. The footsteps in the hall couldn’t be his. My imaginary Hugh hesitated at the door. I sat up as he walked away.
I slipped from the bed, desperate to know if he was real. I had to hear his voice. I hurried to the door and threw it open to see him slip from view up the narrow steps.
I crossed my arms over my nightgown and chased after him. I jumped the creaking step and crept along the left, more quiet side. His shadow danced on the wall from the open study.
I listened to the hiss of whispers as I stepped closer. His tone echoed with resonating anger, “Is it true?”
She attempted to calm and comfort him with her voice. “It’s never mattered, not then and not now. Deep down you’ve always known it, William.”
His desperate voice pleaded for her to listen, “You need help.” I angled myself to peer into the room.
Elizabeth shot out her hand. His face twisted with fury as she struck him but he remained silent. His entire being tensed as he fought for control. His image was devastating as I tasted his inner grief.
Elizabeth screeched as she struggled to maintain her dignity and control over the situation, “Listen,” she commanded as he tried to turn away from her.
She gripped his arms and twisted until he spun on her with clenched fists. She refused to allow him to escape. She rammed him back until he was against the wall lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the pond.
“You know better.” Her tone slipped back into the strange mimic of Ruth with a slow tempo of syllables. “Never to leave me again. You know what to do. Close your eyes.”
Her fingers wrapped in his curls as he glared down at her. He seemed to be daring her with his eyes. I covered my gasp as she snapped his head forward before slamming it into the glass. A web of cracks seeped along the length.
I readied to fling myself into the room to save him but his eyes shut tight as though in avid prayer. My head began to spin as Elizabeth laughed, victorious. She won her prize too easily.
She wrapped her arms around him and pressed a kiss to his neck. My stomach twisted as I waited for him to push her away. Instead, his hands lifted to rest on her hips.
