Chapter 22 #2
“Yet you let him back into your house. I’m trying to figure out what you find so special about him. Do you know how to read?” the man asks me. I can tell he’s a vampire and it makes me wary of him, but I’m pretty sure Atticus wouldn’t allow another vampire to consume me.
“Of course I do. I am an earl.”
“An earl, eh?”
“His father was an earl before he died. He is not an earl. He is a thief and a liar.”
“And yet you didn’t crush his throat the moment he walked in through that door. Atticus, are you getting soft?”
I stare at Atticus, who is glowering at me, and ask, “Can I have my old room?”
“No, you can sleep in the stable.”
“Okay,” I say. I carry my stuff out to the stable and dump it in the hayloft before heading out to the field. I spend all day being yelled at for not being fast enough. And only after blisters have formed on my hands do I retreat to the hayloft.
I lay down the blanket I have and curl up, holding myself as I begin to cry. I hate everything. I hate everyone. I hate this life. I hate the loneliness that creeps up inside of me.
I hate—
“I am trying to enjoy my brief free time away from that dreadful man by brushing my horse, and I don’t want to have to listen to never-ending sobs. Do you mind?” Atticus grumbles, looking down at me. I didn’t even hear him climb up into the hayloft with me.
I stare up at him while I wonder why I keep coming back to this place. “Would you notice if I died?”
“Yes, because I’d have to find someone to dispose of your body. It would be rather inconvenient, so I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“More inconvenient than keeping me alive?” I ask.
He considers this for a bit. “You are quite irritating… don’t try me too hard.”
“I fell in love with a man for two years… he told me he’d give me the world, only for me to find out he was getting married to a woman and had been fucking other men behind my back.”
“You think I could possibly care about your drama? What would you like me to do? Would you like me to eat him?”
I smile. “I don’t wish him dead, but if you could terrorize him, I would very much enjoy it.”
“Well, if I’m ever that way and happen to think of you while there, I’ll consider it,” he says dryly. “Now are you done crying so I can groom my horse in peace?”
“I will help,” I say as I follow him down.
He seems displeased by this, especially when I climb onto his horse and lie on his back while Atticus tries to groom around me.
“Will you move?”
“You can brush me too. I like to be pampered.”
“I’m not brushing you. I am this close to dragging you off and dropping you in manure.”
“Hmm… Did you see the pretty horse I brought you?”
“The horse you stole?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not even ashamed of it.”
“Not really. He deserved to have me ransack his entire home, but I thought it’d slow me down on my way to you. So did you see the horse?”
“I did.”
“Impressive, eh?”
“I will… admit he will make a fine breeding stallion.”
Atticus tenses and turns around, and I look over to discover Morpheus standing in the door of the stable. I don’t like how I didn’t hear him or see him until I noticed Atticus looking that way. Fear creeps through my body, making me slide off the horse and want to go back up to my blanket.
“You don’t need to run,” Morpheus says when he walks in, dragging something behind him.
I soon realize that it’s not something… it’s someone, and Atticus goes rigid beside me.
“Atticus, we had a deal,” Morpheus growls as he drops a man’s body on the ground in front of us. While I never spoke to the man personally, I know he was almost always around Atticus.
“I thought it would be fun to at least get a little information out of him before he died, but he sure was tight-lipped, even until his dying breath. He must have really cared about you, Atticus. That was his downfall. It always is. It’s a wonder you still surround yourself with people the way you do. ”
Suddenly, there’s a hand on me and I jerk back, slamming into the vampire holding me. I never even saw him move. The fear I’d felt the day my parents died tears through me. Have I forgotten how horrifying these monsters are just because I’ve never seen Atticus move like this?
“I bet this one is a talker,” Morpheus muses, his fingers trailing up my throat. I feel like he could snap it with ease, yet all I can do is stand here. I’m panicking, I can’t breathe… he’s going to kill me.
“I agreed to your terms,” Atticus says, voice calm and cold.
“Yes, but you’ve tried my patience. Don’t try it again,” Morpheus snarls, throwing me so hard I slam into the side of the stall. Pain spikes into my head as my vision explodes into darkness before I hit the ground.
When I wake, I discover that I’m lying on my blanket. My head swims when I sit up, but I force myself to crawl over to the edge of the hayloft so I can take a peek to see if he’s gone. Thankfully, the stable is free of anyone but the old man who tends to the horses.
I tentatively climb down and look over at the streaks of blood he’s trying to clean up while tears run down his cheeks. He must have been close to the man who died.
“W-Where is Atticus?”
“He’s digging a grave. You’d do best to leave him alone,” he says, but I slip out of the stable. My head hurts, and anytime I move it too quickly, my vision swims, but I still manage to find him out at the family graves just beyond the manor, digging a hole by the light of a lantern.
I slowly walk up to him, though I’m well aware he would have heard me long before I arrived. When I get close, I see that he has the grave half dug, and the body lies a few feet from it, covered by a blanket.
I can taste blood in my mouth, and I feel it drying on the side of my face.
My head is swimming, so I end up squatting down next to the grave.
Atticus doesn’t say anything to me, and I don’t say anything to him.
Carefully, I reach up and touch my head.
My fingers come back red with blood. When the hole is deep enough, he reaches out and grabs me instead of the dead man.
“W-What are you doing?” I ask, anxious and on edge after the attack.
“Take that horse of yours and ride down south to the auction. Sell it, take the money, and do something with your life. You are educated and intelligent, yet you want to punish yourself for some fucking reason, so you do stupid shit like this. If you stay here, the next grave I’ll be digging is yours.
You’re lucky he didn’t kill you when he threw you. ”
“Why do I have to leave?”
He grabs me by the chin and forces my head up. “Every single person who lies in these graves is someone he’s killed.”
“Why?”
“To remind me that I’m not allowed to be happy. That I’m not allowed to have anyone in my life.” His grip on me tightens before he pushes me away. “Now leave me be. I want to be alone. Go find a room in the manor, if that’ll keep you quiet, and leave when morning comes.”
I hesitate before returning to the stable to gather my things. When I step outside, instead of heading for the manor, I find myself walking back to where I left him, and I discover him kneeling down next to the dead man, his head on the man’s chest.
I’ve never seen Atticus like this in all of the years I’ve known him. He’s always been cold to me, but he’s never been completely indifferent, so I’ve greedily latched on to him whenever I’ve dropped to my lowest. He’s been my rock in this ruthless world.
And now…
Now he wants me to flee this place. To leave him… and never come back.
I turn away and hurry toward the manor, hoping for a place to call my own, determined not to leave.