Chapter Ten
Instead of returning directly to the house, I drove around town for a little while, even driving back out to Matthew’s alleged school, before finally gritting my teeth and returning to the house. I hated that I was having second thoughts about Vic, and that the fear response of my own body had surprised me, caught me off guard.
As soon as I walked in the door, I felt the atmosphere shift. There was an indescribable tension in the air, and I could hear agitated voices upstairs.
I walked up the stairs as quickly as I could, my hand gripping the banister with every step. I was nearly shoved to the side when Margaret came rushing out of Edith’s room, her cheeks red, and her jaw clenched.
A moment later, I heard footsteps and the door to Vic’s bedroom closing.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Margaret said nothing but hurried down the stairs, her arms wrapped tight around her torso, her fingers twisting viciously at the material of her sweater on either side.
I proceeded more cautiously toward Edith’s bedroom. A small lamp in the corner was on, giving some spare illumination to the closed off, blacked out room.
Matthew was seated in a chair at the edge of Edith’s bed. His glasses were at the end of his nose, barely staying on as he made notes on a folded piece of paper. At intervals, he would reach out and test her heartbeat against his watch. Other times, he would open her eyelid to study the movement beneath carefully, before making another entry on the paper.
I drew a little closer, looking over his shoulder. It seemed the notes he made were in the same code I had observed in the basement.
Edith suddenly twisted in the bed, her eyelids flying open, and her wide, absent gaze blazing in my direction. Her eyes rolled back, and she dropped to the mattress again.
Matthew did not look over his shoulder.
“Margaret, if you will not leave me and my patient alone…”
“It’s not Margaret,” I said.
He glanced over his shoulder dismissively. “You can go too.”
“Is she okay?” I asked, walking further into the room until I was standing next to Matthew.
He looked me over, his lips hitching into a smug smile as he took in my slightly disheveled appearance. I suppose it wasn’t surprising that Vic might have told him about our encounters, but Matthew didn’t need to be so obvious in his disapproval.
“She is doing a little worse than I’d expected,” he said. “I won’t lie; it is unfortunate.”
“What happened in the basement the other day, I never…” I trailed off.
“Sleep walking is a common side effect of many medications. My treatment is no different,” he said in an almost bored voice.
“And sleep attacking?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You seem easily startled, but, if you like, I can include your feelings of fear in my notes.”
“Please do,” I said, before leaving the room.
It didn’t matter what he said; I knew what I saw. Besides, the laboratory would have the results in two days. I only had to wait until then.
I knocked on Vic’s door and Matthew’s shoulders tensed.
It opened and Vic appeared in the doorway, a little rumpled, a little tired, but undeniably handsome. His eyes seemed somehow bluer and clearer than they had been when I’d seen him last, only a few hours earlier.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said.
He leaned in the doorway, his grey t-shirt hitching up a little. He touched my hip and drew me towards him.
This time, I shook him off.
“Margaret seems upset,” I said. “Have you talked to Matthew?”
He smiled patiently, as though indulging the whims of a child, and walked across the hall to the room where his mother lay unconscious.
“She okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” Matthew said. “Her condition’s been unstable for a while now; it’s only natural.”
Vic walked to the other side of the bed, so he could face Matthew over Edith’s reclined body.
“Her lips seem purplish,” he said. He lifted up the edge of the bedsheet. “So do her fingertips.”
“Circulation is poor. Her heartrate is significantly slower than her baseline,” Matthew responded, idly writing on a fresh sheet of paper.
“Is there anything Nadia or I can do?” Vic asked.
Matthew shook his head. “Even that nurse is superfluous at this stage.”
Vic nodded and gave Matthew’s shoulder a squeeze as he walked past. Vic took my wrist in his hand, and this nearness enveloped me in his warm, musky aura. Without saying another word, he led me downstairs to the kitchen.
“I know it may seem scary, but I’m used to seeing her like this,” he said. “She’s been in poor health for a while. For my own sanity, I’ve had to disconnect.”
“I get that,” I said. I rested my hand on his elbow as he leaned against the counter. “It’s just strange to see. I’ve never come across anything like Edith’s affliction.”
“No one has,” he said, sighing. “That’s why Matthew is so valuable, why I have to give him the space he needs, even if that means getting rid of Margaret.”
At this, I was taken aback.
“You fired Margaret?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do. She was making it so Matthew couldn’t tend to my mother. Margaret can stay in the house for as long as it takes her to find a new place, but I get the sense that she’d rather leave now. Still, if you see her, please let her know that she’s welcome to stay as long as she needs.”
At this, I was openly surprised. I knew our relationship was moving abnormally fast, but to be treated as though I spoke with any authority in this household was absurd.
Vic seemed to sense this, because he put his arm around my shoulder. “I’m not trying to put you in an uncomfortable position. If it comes up naturally, please help her understand this.”
I nodded numbly, melting into the sensation of having his arms around me. I feared that we were both victims of an intense infatuation that was destined to be short-lived. How else could I explain the hold he had over me?
Vic returned upstairs to spend time with Matthew in Edith’s room, while I idly continued the work I had begun with my sketches, this time seating myself at the kitchen table. I could hear the low voices coming from above and I stilled my hands, trying to catch even fragments of the conversation. Footsteps neared the kitchen and my heart began beating rapidly, the flush of adrenaline filling me.
To my disappointment, only Margaret entered the room. Her cheeks were still red, and it seemed she had nearly worn a hole in her sleeve with her worrying of the fabric.
She looked sharply at me when she entered. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, as though she had recently been crying. I thought back to the brief crying episode I had experienced earlier that day, and realized I had yet to wash, my body still deliciously covered in and filled by Vic’s essence.
I pulled the hem of my skirt downward a little, suddenly self-conscious about my state.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She shrugged as she went to the sink and poured herself a glass of water.
“I’m not surprised. The second that man entered the house, I knew it was all over,” she said.
“I’m sure Matthew doesn’t mean—”
She shook her head as she took a gulp of water, her back still to me.
“Not Matthew…Vic,” she said. “He’s got it out for me.”
I tried not to roll my eyes too hard.
“He asked me to tell you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” I said. I tried to make my voice as gentle and smooth as I could. I moved a little closer to her, though felt awkward in doing so.
Margaret snorted out a derisive laugh. “And I thought you were here to work on your paintings. Tell me, just how much progress have you made?”
I was a little confused, but unsure of what to say. Margaret’s back was still to me, and I crossed my arms.
“And yet, you seem to be keeping yourself busy,” she spat, when it was clear I would not answer.
“What?” I asked. I drew a little closer.
Margaret turned on her heel, whirling around to face me. “Being Vic’s whore seems to keep you plenty occupied.”
I slapped her across the face, and the sound of my open palm striking her cheek echoed through the room.
Margaret clutched her cheek and glared at me. She raised her fist, but I grabbed her hand, and slapped her again with my free palm.
“Let go of me,” Margaret yelled, straining against my hold on her wrist.
I seemed to be possessed of some physical strength I had never experienced before. Instead of letting her go, I dug my nails into her wrist, while she wrenched her body away from me. I felt my fingertips become wet with her blood as I clutched harder and dug deeper.
She tried to pull back, but I struck her across the face again, while dragging her closer with my bloody grip.
“Please,” Margaret sobbed, now tugging against her own elbow. “Please let go of me.”
“Nadia!”
I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist and a hand pried my fingers loose. I sank back against Vic’s chest, watching numbly as Margaret stumbled from the room, her hand clutching the shredded skin.
“Nadia, what happened?” Vic asked.
He tilted my face towards him, his brow furrowing as he took in my expression. His arm stayed wrapped around my waist as he drew me near. There, within the shelter of his embrace, I felt safe again.
I shook my head, tears welling in my eyes.
“I don’t know. She said something, and I lost control of myself,” I said.
“Let’s go up,” Vic said, his voice low and gentle.
He kept his arms around me as we walked up the stairs. The door to Edith’s bedroom was ajar, perhaps left open by Vic in his rush to break up the fight occurring in the kitchen.
Vic gently steered me into my bedroom and switched on the overhead light to disperse the evening shadows. Alone, I walked into the bathroom and began running a bath, filling the pristine tub with the hottest water the faucet could summon.
I silently stripped and stepped in. My skin became red where the water touched me, and I noticed the bath taking on a crimson tinge. It was then that I realized I had not washed Margaret’s blood from my hands.
I sank further down into the scalding water, slipping my head beneath the surface. Perhaps the nurse’s blood would provide an antidote to whatever fury had possessed me earlier. Maybe a small dose of what had nearly engulfed me would make me immune.
Vic came into the bathroom. He stared for a long time at my body beneath the water, the surface lapping at my breasts as I reclined in the tub.
Wordlessly, he knelt down next to me. His fingers found my neck, and wrapped upwards to my jaw. He angled my face towards him for a deep, invasive kiss, before slipping his fingers beneath the water to my wrist. He brought my hand above the surface, and studied it.
I could see the blood still lodged beneath my fingernails, and so could he. To my surprise, he drew my hand to his mouth and sucked each of my fingers individually, his tongue playing against the tip of each nail, as though trying to draw Margaret’s blood into his mouth and down his throat.
As much as I may have wanted to withdraw my hand, I only watched as he returned to each finger, his warm, eager mouth sending a shiver of unadulterated pleasure down my spine.
Keeping hold of my hand, he pressed it against his chest and pulled me forward for another kiss. I wrapped my arm around his neck, not worried about the water I was soaking into his shirt. I ran my fingers through his hair, playing with the damp, dark strands. He pulled back a little, his blue eyes wide and intensely focused on mine.
“You’re everything I could have dreamed of,” he breathed against my cheek.
I stayed silent, my heart beating fast as I was engulfed by the scorching heat of the water and the masculine warmth from Vic’s strong body. He leaned over the side of the bathtub and wrapped both arms tight around me, trying to draw my naked, drenched body closer to him.
When I was done, Vic lifted me from the bathtub. I rested my head against his chest as he carried me to the bed. The cotton of his t-shirt quickly became soaked, and I could feel the crude strength of his body beneath the wet fabric.
Laying me down on the blanket, Vic stripped off his clothes and slipped into bed with me. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close.
Though it was still light outside, I fell asleep like this: naked, wet, and held tight by a man who had, only moments before, sucked the blood off my fingers.