Temper: Book One of the Taboo Series, page 17
I stood and prepared to bolt as he trembled in rage. My heart began an unsteady, painful drum. “Then why is he with her?”
He shook his head as he bellowed, “Why isn’t he with you?”
I straightened my spine with pride as I screamed the truth, “I can’t give him what he wants.”
✷✴✷
The house was redecorated, the alarms were the newest technology, and I held the protection of the local police. I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer.
I hadn’t decided what to do with their room, but it was the one place in the house left untouched except for Stan’s room. I took the stairs with dread and opened the door.
How different my life and heart would be had they stayed. I didn’t know who to blame anymore. I could no longer bite at the soul of Ruth when I didn’t understand her trauma and had tried to slip beneath the darkness myself.
I stared around the room, feeling as empty. What had I done to displease God so much?
Chapter 34- Fresh
I shook the handle of the locked closet door, contemplating how to get it open. My feet moved back as I inspected the hinges.
It wasn't pure anger surging in my chest. It was helplessness. Elizabeth still held a splinter of control by locking this closet.
The realization spun in my head. The answer was simple. I had fought to regain security and power, and she could no longer contain me with locks.
A strange smirk tilted my lips as I spun toward my parents’ bathroom, opening the linen closet. Father didn’t have many tools, but I lifted his hammer. I was calm as I walked back through the room, aimed at the wood, and threw all of my weight behind the hammer.
It was fulfilling to stare at the round dent of splinters. I swung repeatedly and unrepenting. I damaged the wall and door until the hammer slipped from my fingers, through the large black hole into the dark closet.
The wood bit into my skin as I reached through. I turned the lock and the knob, pulling my wrist free. I stared at the bracelet of blood droplets and clicked on the light.
Nostalgia glowed in my heart as I peered around. Mother’s clothes still hung and Father’s drawers were still open with socks spilling. The closet was a pleasant mess. At first glance I couldn't find any reason for Elizabeth to lock the door.
I saw the large, shrouded portrait in the back where it sat since I was young. I remembered when it sat on Ruth’s mantle. I didn’t recall much about the painting aside from Mother being the focal point.
I stepped closer, pulling at the white sheet. I paused as I noticed the pale, dirty suitcase peeking out from behind the massive frame.
Curiosity tugged as I retrieved it. I had hidden in their closet many times to cower from thunder, and again years later after the terrible encounter with Beau. The suitcase had not been there.
I dropped to the floor and pulled it close. The faint scent of dirt and dust surrounded the cracked leather. The rusted hinges and handle crumbled into dust as I opened the suitcase. Old clothes lay in it but I was drawn to the massive, black, leather-bound book.
I opened the water-damaged cover. A woman’s scrawl was in the top left corner, ‘Adelaide.’ Beneath that, childish letters spelled ‘William.’
My stomach twisted as I thumbed the pages. Feminine, beautiful cursive flowed in lines of poetry but the margins and empty pages filled with William's thoughts.
Page after page his handwriting matured until it was oddly familiar. I couldn’t stand to read his words though curiosity sank its fangs into me.
I held in my hands the thoughts of a villain and the memories of a terrible mind. I let my eyes trail along the beautiful scripts of poetry. I felt the woman’s optimism wane the deeper into the book I read. My heart ruptured as it absorbed a poem about her son.
The pain in my chest at her devotion was almost pleasant. I pitied her. What became of her? Did William hurt her, too?
I threw the book back down and began rifling through the filthy clothes. A wooden ring box fell from the folded sleeves of a man’s shirt.
The size of the shirt was too long and slim. It would have fit Hugh, but never Father. I opened the box and peered down into the pristine shimmer of a diamond engagement ring.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the entire collection belonged to a terrible time. I snapped the suitcase closed and kicked it into the empty room.
I turned and reminded myself to finish the purge. I needed to rid my home of its history of violence. I would finish what I started and hopefully feel new.
I began pulling the sheet from the portrait while staring at Ruth’s soft smile. Dust coated the protection from having lain dormant for over a decade. I deliberated on if I should hang it somewhere in the house.
Father once asked to put it in his study, but Mother was been adamant to hide it away. It never held much meaning to me other than to stand for Ruth’s beauty and importance.
I wasn’t torn when they covered and moved it in one of Mother’s dizzying spells of purging. I laughed quietly to myself, musing how she would approve of my manic shift within the house.
In the portrait she sat in front of her family with her ankles crossed. Behind her stood Elizabeth, her smile forced and uncomfortable. Grandfather hovered to the right, alive and jovial. His hair was still mostly red with his shape beginning to round. His green eyes laughed and I wanted so much to smile with him.
I remembered sitting on his lap as he promised to love and protect me. I believed him then. I tried to push away all he allowed to be done to me but I didn’t hold the strength. My throat burned with anger and I looked away. My heart sank as my eyes continued to grace the canvas.
I stared at Hugh on the other side of Elizabeth, but it wasn’t him. My Hugh was taller than Elizabeth.
The hair was the same, especially since Hugh wore it wild. Their build was almost identical along with their high cheekbones and enviable lashes. The full, devastating lips looked like they would taste of cinnamon, but the man in the picture lacked scars from teeth.
I could feel his black, shining curls in my hands, his lips against mine, and his ribs beneath my fingers.
I squinted at the golden brown eyes of the man in the portrait and heard the faint whisper in my head again, William.
I sank to the floor, my mind unhinging and heart devouring itself. I tried to remind myself how little I meant to him as my stomach twisted.
He stepped away from me long enough ago for the new realization to not fracture my soul.
It wasn’t true. It simply reminded me that he was my first love, my best friend, and my savior. I stared at the portrait, feeling naive and lost as bile rose in my throat.
I could feel Hugh’s hand in my hair, his heart against mine, his body in my own. He had brought me to the edge of the world and we had crashed over together.
This was our payment. The resemblance and its meaning were undeniable.
After all I had survived, I had underestimated how cruel fate could be.
✷✴✷
The following fall I enrolled in school though still unsure of what I was meant to do with my life. I realized I had never fully intended to survive so long and all the dreams from before my time with Elizabeth felt empty. They didn’t belong to the person I became.
In classes, I was secluded and small compared to the other students. No one turned my way and questions were never directed towards me. I excelled in the classwork of the typical prerequisites but apparently never outgrew my social ineptitude.
I was left an empty shell. It was a constant struggle to keep the gnawing thoughts and memories at bay. I walked through time, watching it dissolve without meaning. It was the way I fought to find peace and control though I would never be truly free.
As the frost began to bite, a cold wind from my past caressed my life. I dressed and smelled the fresh muffins rising in the oven. I descended the stairs and everything felt normal- until the gate alarm announced a visiter.
I peered through the curtains to see her standing tall next to a shiny black town car. My heart thundered in my chest. I rushed to the kitchen. Stan’s eyes widened as I pulled a long, sharp knife from the butcher’s block.
“Is this it?” He asked as though never truly expecting our lives to be interrupted again.
“Stay here and watch from the window. If she gets through the gate call the police,” I commanded.
I tucked the knife into the waist of my skirt to hide it. His mind spurred at his own memories of her power, “They will do nothing against her.”
I turned to him and tried to smile with assurance. “Maybe not in her county, but here, they’re mine. The department got their Christmas bonus a month early this year.”
Appreciation and fear lit his eyes. I knew what he saw as he watched me turn away. His wary eyes reflected the image of a young Elizabeth.
I turned with my head held high and stepped out into the swirling wind, staring her down as I neared. I stopped within a yard of the gate as she smirked through bars at me.
“You feel strong, don’t you little girl?” She asked, her gloved hand gesturing around her. “Safe?”
I glared at her as I tried to hide my fear. “Why are you here, Elizabeth?”
She leaned down, reached into the car, and pulled a long white box from the car. “I came to invite you to the annual Christmas Eve ball. It’s a little different this year.” She stooped and set the package on the ground next to the gate, her smile bright with amusement. She stepped back as though expecting me to obey.
My skin prickled but not from the chill of the weather. “No,” I laughed. My rage burned so deep I began to sweat.
“If you feel it’s necessary to test me, I can show you how weak your pitiful attempts at defense are.” Undertones of a plan sparkled in her eyes. She hoped I would say no so she could crush me with her superiority.
Claws of terror pierced my mind. “You’re bluffing.” The words tasted naive and childish as they left my lips.
She lifted her hand, a simple signal. I whirled as a loud, electrical pop filled the air.
I spun, searching for the source of the noise. The seconds seemed to last forever. My veins emptied as the gate began to creak open. Nothing stood between her and me. I shifted defensively and refused to show her my fear. I tried to calculate how quickly I could grab the knife if she chose to lunge.
The front door swung in and a man pushed Stan from the house. His hands were raised and his lips pulled into a tight grimace.
“You see?” she sang. “The more you bend to my will, the safer you are.”
I stepped back, trying to keep an eye on the man I recognized as Elizabeth’s chauffeur as he stood behind Stan, too close. “Fine. I'll come. Now leave us alone.”
Elizabeth gave a short nod to the man who stepped away from Stan, tucking away a weapon of his own as he neared me.
Stan stood, unsure for a moment. I could see his need to pursue the intruder. I caught his eye and shook my head firmly. The man had a gun. The knife scraping my back felt useless.
“I'll have you retrieved and escorted to the ball Christmas Eve.”
I bared my teeth, “I’ll drive myself.” I glared at the man who passed me with a devious smile.
“You’ll do as you're told, or I’ll take it as an invitation to return.”
“Why do you even want me there?” I screamed, the frustration rising around me and whirling into a storm.
Her eyes shone with pure rage. She pulled away from the vehicle, stepping toward me. Her teeth hissed as she seethed. “My favorite toy has been broken for months. I’ve granted him enough time to lament you.” The honesty she was exuding was baffling, yet I could see it in her stance. She had nothing to fear. “I’ve warned him. Now it’s time for him to see what happens when he doesn’t comply.”
She spun from me as my brain ticked at her words. She settled into the car and I shivered as they disappeared from view.
“What are we going to do?” Stan asked.
“Call the security company and have them fix the gate.” I tried to keep my tone light and not show the confusion pressing me from all sides.
Chapter 35- Ribbon
Her favorite toy, I repeated to myself. He’s not complying. It made no sense to the logic I was reliant on. The dread was heavy as the memories resurfaced.
‘I never had a choice.’ His words were a pendulum in my brain. I tried to clench my heart closed against what it all meant and not give myself to the fantastical thoughts.
‘You’re not safe yet.’ I replayed the words, expression, and tone as a reminder of who he was. I could never place my trust back into those scarred hands. Elizabeth was toying with me but I didn’t understand why.
I would know exactly how deep her words ran if I confronted him. I would look into his eyes as he professed his love for her and let myself be thoroughly decimated by his tongue. He had denied it before and I had allowed him to.
The realization struck me as I thought about the room upstairs. It was closed off. I pretended it was another world apart from my own. The diary still laid in the suitcase.
His father’s diary. Hugh didn’t know.
I grabbed the package, listening for a tick like a bomb on a movie. It was fairly heavy and my curiosity piqued despite myself. I carried it into the house with Stan grim and silent beside me. I set it on the coffee table as Stan busied his hands by lighting a fire.
I lifted the lid to see an invitation laying on a bed of tissue paper. I read the instructions for a masquerade ball, masks mandatory. I pushed aside the thin tissue. My eyes burned at the diamond-crusted fabric folded into the box.
Stan gasped as I lifted the long gown of shimmering, swirling white fabric. Wings unfolded and protruded from the back. It was understated, elegant, and whimsical. The mask shone with the same crystals but as I stared at the gown I saw Ruth in her dress for my party.
I was careful with the fragile silk as I folded it back into the packaging. I wouldn’t wear the gown. I wouldn’t be perceived as innocent and naive. I would never want her to mistake me for obedient- an angel kneeling to a god.
That evening I pulled my old dress form from the back of my closet and began work on my own design.
✷✴✷
Weeks passed too quickly as my anxiety mounted. Stan celebrated the coming holiday in his own, small way. He retrieved Ruth’s beloved old elves from the attic and accumulated new Christmas decorations to suit my obsession for cleansing my soul of the past. I understood his need for the charm of Christmas. It was my first one home, permanently.
He lit a tree and decorated it tastefully. The house glimmered with soft light and his classic Christmas tunes carried throughout the house. I let him believe he raised my spirits to relieve his. It made him feel secure in the belief I was finally acclimating to the love of our home.
He tested the alarms weekly and began to carry a new, small black gun. He wasn’t as soft as he portrayed.
“You don’t have to go to the ball,” he muttered one night after dinner.
“I know.”
I could feel his eyes on my face as I dried the dishes he handed to me. “Are you going to talk to him?”
I pressed my lips together, unable to speak the truth. I couldn’t tell Stan of our relations. It was too damaging to me and I refused to allow that pain to envelope him. “If the opportunity grants itself.”
I didn’t think he would respond. He settled the last of the shining silverware into their slots before turning to me. “I don’t believe in destiny. If you want something you have to take control of your own actions.”
I blinked at him. “I believe in destiny. Some things are simply out of my reach.”
A week before the party we heard the ding of the front gate as the sun began to dip below the treetops. Stan put a bullet in the chamber and I pulled back the thick curtains.
The ostentatious, red Viper was unfamiliar. I could see two people in the vehicle, but recognized neither to be Elizabeth. I glanced at Stan, nodding at him to stay back with his finger on the trigger. I pressed the code to open the front gate.
I opened the front door as the car rolled, smooth and luxurious, to a stop at my front porch. I felt Stan in the shadows of the den peering into the entryway.
A tall, broad man with eyes the color of a tropical sea, olive skin, and rich brown hair stepped from the driver’s side as a woman my own age emerged from the passenger’s.
I looked over her pale skin, ice blue eyes, and flaming red curls. She smiled up at me nervously. She tightened the long coat that matched her eyes. I lifted a hand behind myself, telling Stan to remain calm as the duo stepped towards the stoop.
“May I help you?” I wished I knew how to keep the demand and fear from my voice.
The young woman’s hands shook as she pulled a wrinkled, worn envelope from her pocket. “I’m looking for Hugh? This was his last known address, and I’m worried for him. I haven’t seen or heard from him since his mother passed.”
Her tone was desperate. Her eyes widened as she stared up at me from the powdered ground. I noticed the light dusting of freckles across her nose and the hope in her smile. I glanced at the man behind her, unable to place an age with his face and wise eyes.
“Who are you?” I asked pointedly to the female.
“I’m Anya, Hugh’s -”
“Cousin,” I finished for her, the name clearly imprinted on my mind. I hesitated as she shivered in the cold. I sighed and gave in to my own grooming of etiquette, “Come in where it’s warm.”
I stepped back as my heart skipped with fear. I was welcoming the family of the man who destroyed me into my own home.
I am his family, my mind replied cruelly. My teeth drilled into my tongue as I shoved the thought away. I couldn’t examine the distinction. I doubted I would ever be able to grasp the reality.
