5. Brynn
I ’m up with the dawn. Not that I stood a chance of sleeping.
What little I did get was peppered with nightmares, my mind going into overdrive about what happened last night, imagining that my grandfather had walked in and caught us. That he’d had me shipped off somewhere, that I was condemned, that everything he has threatened since the day I came to live with him is actually coming true.
My hands wrap around my body, giving myself a hug I so desperately need.
No one knows. No one saw a thing.
I know that’s the case, because if they did, then I wouldn’t be here. My family would have dragged me from my bed, and I’d already be in hell.
It’s a small comfort to know that. I feel like I’m on eggshells, that there’s a great glass pane beneath my feet and any second it’s going to crack in half, and I’ll fall into the abyss far below.
Conrad is here, in this house somewhere. All it will take is one more incident, one moment, where he is reckless, and it’ll be me who suffers the consequences.
I shake my head, forcing cold water onto my face to try and banish those awful thoughts. I’ve survived so far, haven’t I? I’ve lived here for fifteen awful years. I just need to hold my nerve, keep my head down, and wait. Once this marriage is done, once Giselle is gone, then I know I will have my chance. I know that every watchful gaze on me will ease off enough for me to escape.
And escape I will.
I have my bag packed already. I have it put aside, stashed away. When the moment is here, I will run and I will not look back.
But the moment is not today. The moment is not soon.
I pull out the diary, using those familiar entries to soothe myself. It was my mother’s. Within these pages, it’s like she’s still alive, still here. I’ve read the thing so many times that I can practically recite it word for word. I don’t know how it wasn’t destroyed, I don’t know how it evaded the destruction that my grandfather unleashed upon everything else she’d left behind. But I found it, hidden amongst the books in the library and now, it’s more precious than all the tea in China.
A light tap at my door makes me freeze. As quickly as I can, I stash the little black book away. I don’t trust anyone knowing about it. I know my father would happily destroy this the first moment he gets.
Light pours in as it opens and I see a maid walk inside with a tray.
I kept the curtains drawn, hiding in the darkness, pretending that I didn’t exist.
She glances around, trying to find some surface and then puts the tray down like there might be something nasty lingering in the air. Something contagious.
I can’t blame her. Not really.
They used to be nice to me, friendly. And then Giselle caught one of them laughing and joking, and that was enough to earn the poor girl a beating, to earn us both one because she should know her place, that she is here to work and not have fun.
And me? Well, I’m a Monclere, I’m not meant to fraternise with people far beneath me. Even if I am a bastard, even if I am the lowest of the low. It’s still noble blood in my veins, isn’t it?
The maid nods her head politely at me, then exits like she can’t get away from me fast enough.
As the door shuts, the smell of toast wafts into the room. So they brought me breakfast. I guess that’s my aunt’s doing too. She wouldn’t want me in the dining room, wouldn’t want me anywhere near her precious fiancé.
For the first time in my life, I’m actually grateful to her. I figured I’d be going hungry, would have to steal food from the kitchens and pray I wasn’t caught. But if she’s seeing to this, then at least my confinement won’t be quite as miserable as I anticipated.
I shuffle across the room, perching on the stool and scoff down the slices, only realising how ravenous I am once the taste of melted butter hits my tongue. If I were smart I’d keep some back, put it somewhere for later because there is no guarantee this isn’t my only meal of the day.
But I’m too hungry to care.
I practically lick the plate clean, picking up all the crumbs with the tips of my fingers, and I’m dying for a drink too. I guess a scoop full of water from the bathroom tap will have the suffice.
I don’t know how long I have, but I know I’m running out of time. The car is waiting for me. I need to get going, but the thought of leaving this room, this refuge makes me feel physically sick.
“Brynn.”
My grandfather’s voice makes me freeze.
He rarely comes to this part of the house, and especially not to my bedroom. So, this can’t be good.
“Why is it so dark in here?” He snaps, crossing the space, yanking the heavy curtains apart, and a brightness I was not prepared for fills the room.
I throw my arm up, trying to shade my eyes and he spots the movement, grabbing hold of me.
“When you’re done skulking.” He says, dragging me out.
My heart seems to leap. I don’t know where we’re headed, I don’t know where he’s taking me, but every step sends more panic through me.
I try to speak, to ask him but my words catch in my throat and I can’t get a single syllable out. I hate the effect he has on me. I hate the way my fear manifests itself in this way, rendering me mute.
We go down a flight of stairs, then another, when we get outside the cool morning air hits me like a tidal wave.
“The car has been waiting for over ten minutes.” He states and with relief I realise that’s all this is. I’m late for school.
He narrows his eyes before grabbing my chin. “You think you’re the only one who needs it?” He snarls. Like he doesn’t have a dozen other cars he can use, like he doesn’t have a helicopter too, and a private jet. “You think this entire house revolves around you?”
“Nuh nuh nnnoo.” I stammer, forcing out a gasp.
He rolls his eyes before shoving me on.
“I’ll be speaking to the school. Ensuring they understand your tardiness is not because I had any need of you.”
I wince, hearing the unspoken words. That I’ll be punished for this. Beaten. As a Monclere, I’m allowed to be late to class if my family has some urgent business, if there’s a legitimate reason for it. Only, my grandfather is ensuring they know that’s not the case this time.
It’s my own stupid fault. My own failure for letting my fear take over and for not paying better attention.
“And I’ll be having another word about your damned speech.” He says as he pushes me into the back so hard that my face smacks into the leather.
I don’t have time to reply, not that he wants one. He likes me seen and not heard. No, he likes me not seen and not heard. Better he pretend I don’t exist at all than have to look at me and see the sins of my mother. To be reminded of the daughter he believed was perfect, until she wasn’t.
I lift my hand, rubbing at my throat like that might be the magic fix, like that might somehow sort my speech impediment.
The car shoots off, slamming me back once more. My eyes meet the drivers through the rear-view mirror and there’s a hint of sympathy, but he makes sure he doesn’t say anything. We’re being watched. Every inch of this driveway has security cameras pointed at it. It’s another reason I need to plan my escape very, very carefully. I can’t simply grab my bag and wander off.
Once we make it out past the massive wrought iron gates and onto the country lane, I let out a sigh of relief. No, I’m not exactly free but it feels freeing to be just out of that oppressive house and away from them, if only for a few hours.
“I’ll go as fast as I can.” He says.
“Don’t bother.” I reply. Although I’m grateful for this one act of kindness, it’s not worth the risk. “They’ll be watching still. They’ll know when I turn up. And besides, my grandfather is probably on the phone to the headmaster this very second.”
I’ve never had an issue speaking with the servants, at least, speaking with those who I know are friendly. It’s my family I struggle with. My family who put the fear of God into me. Whenever I see them, whenever they’re tormenting me, it’s like my entire body locks up.
Perhaps it’s a survival thing.
If I could actually form words I’d probably fight back, argue more, and we all know where that would get me. Thank God for small mercies then. Being selectively mute means I’m alive, being mute means that I’m not there, not locked away in Oblivion.