Chapter 55 Delilah
DELILAH
The house is filled with the soft scent of vanilla as I sit at the piano, entertaining Helene while she sips her tea. I can almost convince myself the man sitting beside me on the bench is Kane as my blistered fingertips dance across the keys.
Keep playing.
Keep playing so the memories stay away.
Just keep playing; he’ll come back.
Helene sets her cup on the saucer. “You may stop now.”
I stand, making sure I don’t make a sound or scrape the bench against the floor as I snatch the small sand timer from the top of the piano.
Lennox rests his hand on my lower back as he guides me down from the raised platform of the domed atrium to stop me from falling since I’m not allowed crutches anymore.
He’s stayed too long already, so I limp ahead to sit in front of Helene with my back to her, my knees bent.
“I’m ready, Mother,” I say, holding the sand timer so tightly there’ll be a groove in my palm of the ornate edges.
She places her cup on the marble side table as she shoos Lennox away with her other hand.
He doesn’t look at me as he walks out. Helene opens the drawer of the side table to take out her tools.
Relief slowly replaces the tension in my shoulders when she carefully pulls the ivory handled brush through my shoulder-length hair.
“You’re a good dolly,” she coos, sweeping the bristles through the ends of my hair. “I’ll look after you.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Such a pretty dolly,” she whispers, passing me a matching handheld mirror. The ivory has been carved to look like hands are holding the reflective glass in place, the bottom of the handle a coiled snake.
She knows the loss of not having her children, her husband, and being trapped.
Everything she does is for my benefit, so we’re lucky we have each other.
She cares about me. That care is shown as she parts my hair in the middle, brushes one part over my shoulder, then begins to section the other into four to braid it.
“I’m the only one who’s here for you, sweet girl.” She crosses the first section over the second.
“I know, Mother. Thank you.”
The glass of the sand timer shifts from how tightly I’m holding it, but she doesn’t rip it out of my hand as she continues braiding my hair. “I’ve looked after you over the years, have I not? Even as Kane abandoned you?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Will you be a good dolly to earn your stay from now?” She pulls my hair to tighten the braid. Instead of moving to the next section, she grips it even harder so my neck is strained, forcing me to look up at the ceiling.
“Yes, Mother.” My voice is weaker from the tension she’s adding to my throat as she pulls harder. “I’ll do what you say. No one else has looked after me.”
“Good dolly,” she coos, loosening her hold on my hair. “Do you remember everything I’ve given you?”
I nod as my fingers tighten around the small sand timer in fear of it being taken away.
“Tell me,” she demands.
“You allowed me to hold her,” I whisper.
She strokes my hair. “For the first and last time.”
Emotion burns my throat at the reminder of my baby girl—mine and Kane’s. She was small but perfect. I made her wrong, but I’ll be good instead of angering Helene, so she won’t tell Kane when he comes back. I’ll explain it to him. The memory of our baby won’t be dictated by Helene then.
She reaches around me, prying my fingers off the small sand timer, taking another thing from me. “If you’re good, I’ll allow you to visit her. Would you like that, sweet girl?”
I quickly nod, uncaring about the braids in my hair.
“Sweet girl,” she says so softly I can feel the warmth in her voice brush my nape. “You will be collected shortly to perform, like you did for your parents’ parties.”
“Th-then I’ll have her back?”
“That’s right. You’ll earn her back as long as you’re a good girl for me.”
I nod again. I can do it though. It will be the same as the other times I’ve left. I’ll have to play the piano for the masked guests while Rowan has one of his parties. If I keep playing, I might be able to earn Kane back too. I have to listen, no fighting or arguing. No trying to leave.
Just listen to what Helene tells me to do. Then life is easier.
She finishes braiding my hair before sending me to get ready. Sitting on the floor has turned my ass numb and I have to limp out of the room, but I remind myself I’ll get my baby back as soon as I’ve done what she wants. The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be back with her.
I have to grip the railing to help me climb the spiral staircase, one foot in front of the other, getting further away from my baby. Helene is right about him being angry with me, which is why he hasn’t come back.
I keep walking until I get to my room. Then away from everyone else, my body gives out. My knees crumble under the weight of the sand timer being taken away from me but I don’t hit the floor as a gloved hand reaches out, taking hold of my forearm.
Lennox keeps me standing as I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. “She took my baby,” I cry in the last safe place I have.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’ll get her back.”
“No, I have to go again.”
He’s been here longer than he’s usually allowed to stay, but he makes no attempt to leave as he gently pulls me back, stroking my cheek with the back of his gloved fingers.
“Run this time,” he softly urges. “Don’t come back.”
I’ve spent years listening to him tell me to run. Each time, he’s angry when I arrive back to the island because I never listen to him. He doesn’t get it. I have to be here or I’ll lose my baby all over again.
“Not without my baby.” I step back to get away from his coaxing.
He holds my shoulders, forcing me to remain in place as his voice hardens. “She’s not here, Delilah. Your baby died. There’s nothing you can do.”
“Shut up!”
“No. Listen to me. Your baby isn’t here. Nothing exists for you here other than pain. You’ve earned more freedom. Now, you run. You do not look back and you do not wait.”
“Kane will come back,” I whisper through tears as the sun shines on the wall Kane painted for me in one of our last moments together. “He won’t be able to find me if I go.”
Lennox’s face falls as he dips his head to catch my eyes. “Kane’s dead, little doe.”
“No,” I snap, pushing him away.
It’s the same lie over and over and over again. Kane isn’t dead. They don’t know him; they don’t know this is his trick. He’s already done it once, but I won’t make the same mistake again.
Kane’s alive. Asher’s dead.
Lennox flies with me for the first time, but wherever we are is different than the other parties.
It’s colder and rain hits my exposed arms as he guides me into a silent building.
Our steps don’t even echo as we walk deeper into it.
When the door closes behind us, I wait for my mask to be removed so I can see where I’m going.
However, the routine has changed as Lennox places his hand on my lower back to push me forward.
Even when Helene’s perverted gaze has been on us, he keeps his hand near my shoulder blades.
My insides churn as he moves his land lower to cup my ass.
I push myself away from his wandering hand despite how pain shoots up my right leg, nearly crumbling me.
He has never touched me like this. Ever.
Not when he allowed me to hold his hand while I was forced to give birth to a dead baby, or when I was throwing up and he would help me get back into bed.
Not even when he would clean the wounds after I defied Helene.
Now his fingers dig into my bicep as he forces me to remain at his side. His gloves feel different. They’re not as soft, like they haven’t been worn frequently when I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve woken up to see him sleeping in a chair with his gloves on.
We keep walking as his hand roams over my body. The dress Helene provided me with dips low in the back, the small of the hem barely covering my ass. Lenny keeps moving down, down, down, until his gloved hand is between my thighs.
I should’ve listened to Helene when she said he was using me. I should’ve listened to myself when I knew it was strange for a man to spend so much time with me without demanding he be compensated by my body. Three years is his limit. He’s collecting as we walk deeper through the hallway.
A door bangs behind us.
He removes his hand from between my thighs to rip the hood off my head.
Small strands stick to the material, charged with static as I squint into the harsh spotlight illuminating me, the rest of the room blurring into an inky black.
When I lift my hand to take some of the burden off my burning retinas, I notice the man standing beside me isn’t Lenny.
Even though his face is covered in a mirrored shell mask, I know it isn’t him.
This man is shorter, his shoulders thinner. Lenny left me alone with strangers.
I have to play then Helene will be happy. I’ll get them all back. My baby, Kane, and Lenny. All four of us will be allowed to be together, and the latter will be forced to apologize to me for attempting to convince me Kane is dead. I’ll rub it in his face then forgive him.
As I walk closer to the blinding light, there’s no crowd to show Rowan’s parties have begun. The light is coming from another room, seeping out of the doorway I’m pushed through. I look up in an attempt to escape the glare, but the entire box is reflective, even the floor.
I haven’t moved from the middle of the disorientating room when the door slides into place behind me. The lights are cut off next, suspending me into darkness. I hold my hands out in front of me as I slowly turn in a circle at the sound of my own heartbeat amplified in the pitch-black space.
One of the mirrored panels erupts with small dots of light.
All of the reflective surface makes it look like I can fall into them.
My stomach rolls when the dots covering one entire panel slowly move in an arc, sweeping under my feet to go to the opposite wall.
My knees tremble and I hold my arms out to balance myself as the sweeping gets faster.
The lights glaring at me add to the nausea despite the room not moving.
The lights change, sweeping front to back instead of side to side.
The curve widening, reaching the ceiling as I spin.
Or the lights spin. I can’t work it out or stop the bile burning up my throat at the intense motion sickness taking root.
“Stop,” I mumble as saliva pools in my mouth in preparation to carry the bile away.
The lights get faster.
I sway, eventually crumbling as my stomach wins the battle. Vomit soaks the front of my dress as it splashes up from the illuminated, mirrored floor to stick to my hair. The lights don’t stop; neither does my stomach.
I flinch as they get faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Spinning in every direction, dizzying me as they pass.
All while my stomach convulses.
Until it abruptly stops, leaving the lights flashing behind my eyeballs as I continue throwing up. My retching bounces off the reflective walls. I don’t realize how much I’ve sullied myself until the door slowly slides open, allowing a muted light into the room.
The elegant recital gown is stained orange down to my knees where my vomit is pooling. My skin is clammy, sweat beading across my nape, my hair plastered to the side of my face. I wipe across my mouth with the back of my hand as tears mix with the acidic air, burning my eyes.
Dress shoes tap against the glass floor, and I look up as Lenny stops at the edge of the rancid puddle. “Sweet girl,” he coos, shattering me because it’s not my friend, it’s his twin. “I overestimated your resolve.”
“I need to play,” I beg as my limbs quake, hindering me from being able to stand.
“You already have.” He reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. “Now you have a choice. Would you like that, sweet girl?”
I nod, nearly throwing up again at the motion.
“Good girl. You can fight,” he offers, snapping open a narrow velvet case. “Or you can forget until you serve your purpose.”
Loud barks travel through the space, shaking the walls. I whimper as I slide backwards to get away from the punishment. “I’ll forget. I promise, I’ll forget. Let me go back.”
“It is your choice to make.” He tuts as the barking gets louder. The light reflecting off the walls cast him in different shadows like he’s a monster I’ve made up as he lowers to his haunches, rolling something across the floor towards me.
A syringe.
The liquid is clear and there’s a cap covering the sharp point of the needle. But the barking is thunderous, seizing all of my muscles.
“Stop them,” I beg, curling my fingers over the cool glass barrel of the syringe.
“The choice is yours.” He gestures to my hand.
The barking gets louder, paws eagerly padding against the floor. I don’t think as I pull the cap off and push the needle into the thick vein below my thumb on the side of my wrist. My vein burns but once I push the plunger down, sending the full vial of liquid into my blood, my body soon sinks.