Atlas #2
“Aw, come here,” Father coos, and Abigail runs to his arms, just as she has done a million times before. Just as I had done a million times when I was a young thing, too.
“Isn’t it just lovely how Julian cares for you?” Mother asks Abigail. “How he is willing to play with you on days when he isn’t working? He must truly care for you, sweetheart.”
“Yes, it’s not weird at all,” Atticus says sarcastically. He grabs his book, lying back down on the chaise. “Are we not concerned with how much time our male attendee is spending with our nine-year-old?”
“Atticus!” Father bellows. “Julian is a good man and has never given us a reason to doubt him. I will hear nothing more of this.”
My older brother just shrugs.
“Would anyone like tea? I’m going to ask Barfred.” I stand, unable to take any more conversation situated around Julian. I’m already sad enough as it is.
Mother frowns at me, but says, “Yes, darling. Thank you.”
Atticus makes an affirmative noise in the back of his throat.
“I will be back, then.” I slip out of the drawing room, descending the main staircase slowly.
I couldn’t take another moment of that conversation. Not only I would look suspicious to my family for getting defensive for Julian, but just hearing his name also makes me depressed.
For some reason, I really thought being cured would fix everything. But now that I’m here, really considering all angles, it doesn’t matter if the incubus never comes to me again. It’s already fucked me. Once Julian learns of this—and if we became involved, he inevitably would—he’d still leave.
Why would Julian settle for spoiled goods?
Just as my loafers hit the hardwood of the main foyer, his voice rings out.
“Young Master Atlas?” Julian looks exhausted. As if he hasn’t slept, as if he’s barely holding himself together.
I take a single step toward him.
“What… what’s wrong?”
He’s standing between Hall E1 and Hall E2, the back courtyard doors behind him, his hands nervously fiddling at his navel over his grey crewneck sweater.
Julian’s black hair is a mess, sticking up in random places and covering his forehead. His sweatpants are wrinkled, and he’s wearing house slippers.
It is a little past lunchtime.
“Can I speak with you?” he asks. His voice sounds rough, as if he hasn’t spoken in a long time, or he hasn’t stopped talking for hours.
“Um… sure.” I wince, immediately regretting my decision.
Being close to him, being alone with him—either will only hurt me worse in the long run. I must begin protecting my heart against him.
“Please follow me.” He turns and heads toward Hall E2, and what I assume will be his bedroom.
I’m right. As he walks into his quarters, I pause at the doorway, taking in the messy duvet and hot temperature. The air inside feels humid.
“Are you coming in?” he asks nervously, standing at the foot of his bed.
Taking a deep breath, I step inside, closing Julian’s bedroom door behind me. This is the second time I’ve been in here, yet it feels so much more insidious this time.
What does he intend to say? What does he intend to do to me?
“What can I do for you?” I ask him, my own anxiety rising by the second.
Julian stares at me, almost as if in disbelief. Then, in a flash, he’s right in front of me.
“Are you alright?” His hands are all over me: tracing my arms, my stomach, my chest, and eventually settling on my neck.
I stand completely rigid, eyes wide as I stare at him,who towers over me in utter confusion.
“Y-yes?” I finally stutter.
“Are you sure? Because last night you had so many scary marks. I’m not sure how bad they were, but I know they weren’t fatal, so I just washed them with soap, ya know?” he explains quickly, concerned eyes searching mine.
My entire heart shatters. I stop breathing. I can feel the barbed wire as it wraps around my throat, the sorrow as it seeps into my skin and strangles me.
“What?” I whisper.
“Last night,” he rushes out, “Abigail called because she heard a lot of banging, and I could hear you crying and yelling, so I… I know I shouldn’t have, but I went upstairs. And I saw… I saw that thing. What it was doing to you.”
He stops, as if waiting for my response. When I just stand here, staring at him with wide, shell-shocked eyes, he continues.
“After it left, I washed you up so that you’d feel better. And once you were safe in bed, I went back to my room, that way neither of us would get into trouble.”
I can feel my body moving. I have no thoughts, so I know I’m not doing it intentionally, but I feel my hands lift and remove his from my neck before taking a step back. My back hits the door.
“You… you went into the west tower after dark,” I repeat.
“What was that thing, Atlas?” Julian questions, swallowing up the distance I just created as he takes a step toward me. “Why was it fucking you so brutally?”
I flinch, my eyes falling from his to stare at his sweatshirt. I can’t handle the disgust, the judgment. I wish I could disappear; I wish he’d leave me alone.
What do I do? I never intended for him to see.
And worse… oh, god… this means…
I’m not cured at all—Julian interrupted.
“Atlas.” Julian’s hands take hold of my face, his palms cradling my cheeks. “Look at me! Is this your condition? Your curse? That some monster comes from the shadows and fucks you until you cry?”
I stare into his dark eyes. He’s panicked, concerned, disgusted. I can see it all there—and I hate it. And I hate that he gave me this false hope. That I was allowed to believe I was free for a single moment.
“He wasn’t a monster. You saw my boyfriend.” The lie slips from my mouth so easily, I’m almost startled by it.
Julian’s face goes completely blank, his hands tightening on my cheeks. “… What?”
“You saw my boyfriend and me having sex. Which was very inappropriate, I might add. I may find myself reporting this to my father.” The threat in my voice is clear, and I do everything in my power to keep from shaking.
To keep from crying.
Hold onto your anger, Atlas.
“No,” Julian demands, a look of determined irritation taking over his features. “I saw it. I saw the black eyes and the sharp teeth. I heard it. Then it fucking disappeared right in front of me! No human can do that, Atlas. Don’t lie to me.”