Temper: Book One of the Taboo Series, page 7
The kitchen was immaculate and empty. I huffed, spun from the room, and rushed from the house. Every step towards the garden seemed to raise alarms in my head.
They were shrieking as I came around the last bend. Hugh wasn’t there but something was different. I stepped forward. The fountain still flung water into the air, the flowers danced, and the colors charred my mind with too much movement, but it all felt off. I turned, trying to pinpoint the difference.
I gasped at the deep hole where there had been a thorny bush of white roses. Large, white rocks filled the earth and glared in the sunlight.
Impossible explanations fluttered through my thoughts before my logic returned. I remembered her bloody, dirty nails and the mess of her hair. I couldn’t understand her glowing elation after such terrible destruction.
Before I could stop myself I charged through the garden. I couldn’t stop as I rushed into the house, up the curving steps, and down the hall. I couldn’t decipher the sadness from the rage. I didn’t dare imagine Hugh’s reaction. I stopped at her open office door, my knees unsteady and lungs gasping.
She leaned back in her chair as she saw me. Her pale, ice blue eyes filled with triumph as she smirked. She knew I would come to her.
My hands ran cold as I returned the stare, my mouth and throat dry with fear and adrenaline. “Why?” The word came out weak and pathetic. Her eyes, identical to Mother’s yet full of contempt, distracted me from the emotions and bore new ones.
She stood and rounded her desk with her head held high. Her movements were fluid as her eyes dripped with pride. She stepped too close, but I refused to back away and show intimidation even as my body begged me to run. She towered over me and looked down her straight nose as her lips lifted into a smile of disgust.
“No one gives themselves a single rose,” she hissed.
My mind and body numbed. “Excuse me?”
She bent to look straight into my shocked face. “You stay away from Hugh. I will create hell and push you into the abyss before I see you destroy him.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” I defended, proud of the strength returning to my voice.
I hid the shiver creeping up my spine as she snarled, “You were born from the womb of all that is wrong. It’s in your veins. I won’t allow you to poison him.”
I backed away, my blood rushing to my feet. “You’re not making sense-,” I jumped as the door to the room slammed closed inches from my face.
I bit back a scream of indignation. The image of her eyes so full of loathing weakened me. I backed towards the stairs with shaking limbs, trying to grasp a thread of understanding.
I turned to see him standing shocked, pale, and quaking on the steps.
Vivid words spewed from his mouth as I pushed at him, blocked his way, and pulled from the door. His rage burned around us yet I didn’t fear him. I feared for him.
“She can’t treat you that way. Did you even hear her?” His tirade continued as tears of desperation clouded my eyes, terrified Elizabeth would hear him. His voice raised in an attempt to lure her to him for the fight.
“Please, Hugh. We can talk about this somewhere else.”
He turned and halted the vile words on his lips as he recognized my fear. He froze as worry began to replace the violence possessing him.
He let me lead him down the stairs by the hand. I turned us into Ruth’s bedroom and closed the door. I fumbled in an attempt to lock it before glancing down. It was reversed to be locked from the outside.
His quick pacing caught my attention. He raged back and forth across my room as his hands pulled at the ebony spirals and his teeth bit into his lips. “I don’t understand,” he would repeat at crazed intervals.
I did. She helped raise Hugh. He was the grandchild she never truly received. Her words twisted my heart but I had to believe her intentions were to protect Hugh. Why she thought my presence would be so detrimental to him I didn’t know.
You’re your mother’s daughter.
I doubted I would ever know what Ruth had done so long ago to merit such strong hatred. Hugh continued pacing as her words echoed in my head. I was terrified of the fate my mother released me to. My eyes fell to the reversed lock on the door as doubt flickered across my thoughts.
“Hugh?” His face was still livid when he paused and turned to me. His eyes grew with the realization of what I would say. “We can’t do this.”
He shook his curls in frustration. His long gait carried him across the room too fast. His hands came to either side of my face. His touch was already too intimate- too comfortable. “You’re scared.”
“No,” I lied. I was terrified of what she might do to me and the loss Hugh and Hannah would suffer at my hand.
I tried to convince him with my voice and face but his body was too close. He could feel the heat burning through me into his palms and my heart digging itself from my chest.
His hands wrapped around my waist. There was something dark and frightening in his touch yet the strange sensation was comforting. “I promise we’ll be more careful.” Promise sparkled in his eyes, making me fall into his well of hope.
Though I couldn’t release my fears I sighed and relented. I let his sincere faith fuel my optimism. I would be more vigilant of the next attack. There would be another one. I could feel its imminence in the air.
✷✴✷
Angst swelled in the mansion as the days counting down to Hugh leaving for school flicked by. We were bent in our need to see how deep our new form of friendship could go but we couldn’t even speak. I saw him often but he was stalked constantly by his mother or Elizabeth.
Grandmother would watch us and our expressions when we glanced in each other's direction. She lit with satisfaction when we ignored each other.
She always showed her displeasure if our lips hinted a smile by glaring in my direction and luring Hugh from the room. He despised having to pretend to be baited simply for peace but allowed it.
I wished more than anything for Mother so I could complain and have someone to listen or maybe even understand. I tried to hold onto my need to not need her or even my father. I felt guilty for the slow detachment but dependence on the deceased was unhealthy.
Hannah became my small amount of contact again. Sometimes I would make her sit and talk with me though she preferred conversations about Ruth. I enjoyed hearing about Hannah’s sister and nieces in Maine. Often she could see little things within me and compared them to my mother. I knew she meant them as compliments but every kind word set a burning coal in my heart.
Weeks passed and I heard the frustration in his voice when he was near. He would try to escape Elizabeth by telling her he couldn’t concentrate on his work with her talking to him. He’d snap at his mother before apologizing for being rude. He sulked and begged them both for privacy, space, and oxygen. Neither gave in.
I would stand in doorways and hide in shadows to listen and watch. We were both waiting for the slightest opportunity. In the apex of his irritation, he would smile, sensing me. He didn’t always look in my direction but when he did his eyes lit with brilliance and humor behind the back of whoever was intruding on his space.
Chapter 12- Saturated
The weekend of his departure arrived and the house fell even darker. Everyone seemed to be in mourning but I was excited for him. He was escaping to a true home. I tried to swallow the envy.
I laid in my bed Sunday night knowing he would leave early the next morning. His mother and Elizabeth believed he rented an apartment in the city. I fantasized about going home to visit Stan, Hugh, my doe, and her growing children.
I dreamed that night of family. Stan, Dad, Ruth, even my father’s parents were there though I never got to them. I also dreamed of Hugh. I heard his voice and felt his hands in my hair. “I miss you,” he whispered in the dark. His sweet, gentle kiss grazed my face, cheeks, jaw, and eyelids before brushing across my lips.
I released my hands to their own will and relished in the sensations as they climbed his back, gracing his arms. His lips tasted like cinnamon. His muscles tightened beneath my singing palms. His curls were almost intangible in their softness.
“Hugh?” My eyes snapped open as I realized my dream felt too real.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling back. I could hear his embarrassment as I felt my own. “I wanted to say goodbye. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
He tried to rise from the bed but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. The light in his eyes and the gentleness that defined him warmed my being. “You’re not going to shave your hair before you leave?” I asked, reaching up to pull my fingers through the growing sprouts of spirals where he usually shaved. It was shocking to finally be able to touch. I slipped into awe as I marveled at him.
He shook his head as his cheeks flushed with annoyance, “Elizabeth said she won't let me go to school and keep my job unless I grew it out until it’s even.”
I blinked up at him in confusion. “Why?”
“She says it looks more professional. I don’t know how. It’s a mess. I suggested shaving it all off but she says she wants me to keep it long.”
His bewilderment matched my own. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to upset her.” His teeth began their usual work. His eyes gleamed with a repressed fear to match my own. One solitary rose on my nightstand had instigated her to rip up the entire bush and salt the earth. We couldn’t predict what his disobedience would reap.“You’re going to do great in school.”
His lips flinched into a faltering, nervous smile of appreciation. I pulled him to me. His soft lips were feather soft among the braille-like scars. I beat away the violence of the flame threatening to consume me as his gentle hands pressed me to him. We tested our boundaries of comfort, bringing each other a reprieve from the torment on his last night.
✷✴✷
The room was still dark when I rolled over and pulled the cover from my face, searching for what woke me.
I blew at the downy curl tickling my cheek. An arm tightened around me and pulled me closer. A contented sigh escaped my throat as I bathed in his vanilla scent.
My body froze in terror before awakening in a panicked frenzy. “Hugh, get up,” I hissed, shaking him. I had drifted back to sleep with his fingertips dancing across the tender flesh of my wrist. He must have succumbed as well.
He opened his eyes as a sweet smile drew across his face. Realization struck as his face froze and morphed into shock and outrage. He sprung from the bed, “I’m so sorry.”
He pressed a quick, harsh kiss to my lips before shooting from the room. My erratic heart drummed as I fell back against the sheets.
My muscles tensed at the sound of low heels snapping against the hallway floor. The movement halted outside of the room. I pulled the blanket over my face and stilled as the knob turned.
I feigned sleep but could feel her eyes searching the room. I shivered beneath her gaze as I fought back the terrible visions of what she might do if she saw him escape. The door closed with a quiet snap but my lungs refused to fill.
I laid awake in bed until the sun fully rose. I showered and tried to present myself without fear. When I entered the dining room Elizabeth was already seated and waiting for breakfast.
I noticed Grandfather wasn’t joining us. His absence was an omen. Elizabeth eyed me as I sat. I fixed a serene smile on my face, “Good morning.”
She gave a tiny huff before turning back to the clipboard in her hands. After a few moments of silence, she pulled her napkin to settle across her lap. A manservant rushed from the kitchen, having been watching through a crack in the door, his silver tray held high.
Was Grandmother still suspicious? She showed no anger as she thanked the gentleman who set our plates in front of us.
“Pardon,” I called to him after glancing at my meal.
“No.”
We both turned to look at Elizabeth. The waiter didn’t try to hide his discomfort as he backed toward the kitchen doors.
“I don’t eat this.” I pointed to the large slab of ham laying across the potatoes and eggs.
“You do now,” she said with a light tone of glee.
The room chilled. “No. I don’t.” She raised her chin a degree as she stared me down. I flinched back at the motion I recognized to be a mimic of Ruth’s stance of defiance. It incensed me. “Even Ruth was supportive of my lifestyle,” I spat.
I lifted the ham from the plate and tried to mask my nausea at the texture. I placed it in my napkin and rolled it up. She watched me as I lifted a potato to my lips and smiled. Her eyes screamed with fury at my calm audacity.
Her chair squealed as she shot up and ripped the plate out from under me. I jumped as she flung it to the floor with a crash. She stood shaking in rage over the mess of food and China.
“How was that necessary?” I stood and backed away as calmly as I could.
She stepped closer. The fire in her eyes and the thrill of the hunt in her smile was terrifying. “You will do as you are told. ”
“I don’t eat meat. I won’t be bullied into giving up my morals because you have some inane need to punish me.”
A dry laugh rose from her as she lifted her face. Fear trembled through my spine. “This isn’t about punishment. Though if it were, you couldn’t possibly believe it to be undeserved.” I gulped at the sarcasm saturating her tone. All amusement drained from her expression, “you will learn your place.”
“And where is that?” I asked, trying to keep the venom from my own tone.
“Beneath me.”
Shock made my mouth fall open. “That was rude,” I stammered without wit. Tears stung my eyes but I refused to let them spill as she watched. Her lips curled into a cruel smirk as she realized my emotions. I wanted to pick up the pieces of the plate and fling them into her face. “Why are you doing this?”
She answered with a harsh evasion, “If you do not eat what you are given then you will not eat at all.” I shook my head hard. “Fine.” Excitement lit her eyes.
She’s enjoying this.
She swept from the room as I stood to quiver in shock, my adrenaline still screaming at me to run.
Chapter 13- Amuse-bouche
I paced the library through the day, unable to stay still. Confusion and fear danced in my mind yet the low rumble of my empty stomach made me furious. I tried to comprehend her sudden thirst for complete control.
Hugh.
I sunk to the loveseat. I assumed she witnessed his escape and was enacting her threat to protect him. I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t admit it and simply communicate with me.
I laughed at myself in the empty room. I couldn’t expect the woman who physically and emotionally abused my mother to be rational.
I tried to calm and gather my usual compassion. Her actions were inexcusable but if there was some way I could make it through a few days until she calmed all would go back to normal. Even she wasn’t insane enough to starve another person for too long.
The logic helped to calm my pace. An idea clamped onto my brain and I grasped at it. I spun from the library and hurried on tiptoes through the dining room to the empty kitchen. I crept towards the refrigerator in hope of finding vegetables, bread, or anything else I could hide away in my bedroom. Elizabeth’s breakdown could last for days.
I stared at the handles with a quiet cry of dismay. A wide lock was clamped across. Panic seized me. I had no other ideas or plan. I tried to step calmly up the stairs. I knocked quietly on the door across from Ruth’s as I suppressed the wave of emotions.
“Grandfather?” I hissed through the door, knocking again. I heard a muffled thud from in the room. The knob was locked and I knocked harder. He’s ignoring me.
Sadness and despair churned into a fueling battle of anger. I pulled back my arm and hit the door as hard as I could. I gasped as I calmed and pain radiated from my knuckles.
I cradled my hand against my chest as I waited in silence. I hated the thought of throwing a tantrum for the first time since I wore diapers, but I was ready to tear the mansion apart.
✷✴✷
For days Grandfather was served every meal in his room away from me. Grandmother watched with amusement and irritation as I pushed away from the meat on my plates. I picked through the sides for anything not soaked in the juices of death and cruelty. With every passing day, the pain grew in my stomach along with the fatigue. I became weak, physically and mentally.
She became crueler with every meal until there was nothing edible on my plate. Days passed and she never gave in or apologized. Her glee at my discomfort grew.
Friday evening I stared down at the fillet soaking the white china in blood. I glared at Elizabeth’s darker steak with her potatoes and asparagus saturated in butter sauce.
I lifted my fork and debated if I was quick enough to snatch some of the green from beneath her nose and run quick enough. I could grab the whole plate and throw the steak at her. I fantasized about lifting the slab of meat from my plate and smacking her in the face with it. I envisioned her mouth falling with shock as the blood splattered. She wouldn’t expect any of it.
Instead, I pushed myself away from the table without pardon and stumbled behind the staircase to the library. She didn’t call after me. She could feel me crumbling.
I sat for hours in the dim light, surrounded by dust and shelves of books. They blurred together in my vision as crimson seeped in from the edges. I stared at nothing but the red in my eyes.
I hated my mother more in that moment than I hated the Grandmother stealing my integrity or the coward I called Grandfather. Ruth was the cruelest of them all. She was the one whose actions placed me in that home.
“Olivia?”
I turned at his voice. He stood staring from the doorway. His face twisted in worry as he looked me over. I hadn’t realized it was already the weekend. I tried to smile and lift my eyes to him without wavering.
