I shake my head at the horrifying thought.
“Stop looking at me like that!” I don’t know if the shout is directed at him or at myself.
His intense black pools travel back to my face and stay there. Unmoving. In complete freaking silence.
This is unbearable. I want to drown in the water.
Unable to hold eye contact for long, I tear my gaze from his and focus on his clothes.
He’s wearing a neat elegant tuxedo, its black colour in perfect harmony with his trimmed hair. Power and elegance. He’s dressed to impress. Not that he’s not most days. Only this time, it seems more deliberate.
“Where are you going?” Intolerable silence breaks to shreds at my hesitant question.
“Do you care where I go?”
I shouldn’t, but I do.
You need a slap across the face, Mae.
“Would you stop answering my questions with your own?”
“Where is the fun in that?” He smirks, the gesture’s so mocking, I crave to ruin his sinful features with my nails.
After several minutes of thick silence, he nods and strides out of the bathroom. It’s when I hear the outside door clicking shut that I release the breath I’ve been holding.
I sink further into the now-cool water. A crazy thought forms in my mind.
What if he’s going on a date? Does he have a girlfriend? A wife? He doesn’t seem the type to get involved in such things. But what do I know about him, anyway?
Heck. Why do I even care? He can have them all if he leaves me alone.
My stomach tugs. I stand with a jerk, water splashing all over the floor. This won’t affect me.
I hop out of the bath and dry off.
Once I’m back in the room, I throw on cotton undergarments and a sleeping robe.
I lay on the bed and pull the journal out. At least I have something to do beside the boring circle of sleep, eat, bathe, and repeat.
Oh, and sketching what I abhor.
The second entry is two days after the first.
Aaron lost his voice. He can’t – no – he doesn’t want to speak. The doctor said it’s entirely psychological. I know all too well who caused him the shock. I submitted to my tears and thrashed against Arthur for not protecting our son. He said it was all my fault for going against Ariel in a fight I could’ve never won.
I was at fault for protecting my Aaron and now, I don’t know how to do it anymore.
My heart aches for a little child losing his voice due to a psychological trauma. Aaron’s entourage seems to have everything to do with his depravity. So, Arthur is Aaron’s father. But why didn’t Eva talk about Aaron’s brother? Or is he from another woman?
I turn the page when the door to my room opens. With a quick movement, I slip the journal under the pillow when sitting up. My mouth hangs open when the intruder turns out to be an unfamiliar face.
A slim man in a shining tuxedo stands by the door. He’s similar to Van Gogh’s portrait of Eugène Boch, with the angular features and all— except for maybe his fat nose. The cruel look in his eyes impels
me to get out of the bed.
Kane mentioned that none but himself was allowed in Aaron’s quarters.
“Who are you?” I stand beside the console, eyes searching for a weapon.