The Ravishing

Cassius had forbidden me to see what lay within. Which made it all the more intriguing. But that was when I’d first arrived in this house.

I eased the key into the lock, proud of myself to see it fit.

With things different between us, this wouldn’t be frowned upon, surely.

So instead of waiting for permission, I followed the saying, ‘it’s easier asking for forgiveness.’ And we were closer now, more trusting.

The door was heavier than expected. The wood, thick and aged. Time had done nothing to soften the hard lines.

Just inside, I took in the dark and dusty sight. The scent of mildew and mustiness hit me, and something else.

Death.

I took the steps down even though they threatened to crack and crumble beneath my feet. They didn’t look safe. They led to a torn and faded red carpet that was covered with slippery green moss.

Braving to go farther into the dilapidated chapel, it reminded me of the place time had forgotten. Dust particles danced high before the faded stained glass windows.

I glanced at the banister surrounding the altar at the front. It looked even worse in its faded and rotting state with half the spindles missing. Walking down the center, I looked from left to right—

Someone had done this.

More damage had been wreaked than just the hand of nature.

Though nature had woven herself into every corner, every crevice, and every surface. The air smelled as though all living creatures, including rodents and bugs, that had once scurried in had been unable to find their way out.

No life could live here.

This place reminded me of an aging photograph.

A tomb draped in cobwebs.

Tiny streams of light fought against the dirt, allowing little visibility.

An eerie silence surrounded the stale air.

Each step I took creaked.

Why had this place been left to rot?

Moving over to one of the statues, I peered up at what had once been a marble sculpture of Mary Magdalene. Swiping a layer of soot off her feet, it left a dark smudge on my palm.

This place was filthy. The saint who’d once had a prominent position must have meant something to someone once. Maybe Cassius’s mom had placed her here.

Beside my footprints were the fresh prints of a man’s shoe, proving someone had been here recently. Standing where I stood. Perhaps he, too, had looked up at the saint with equal awe—or maybe with sadness that she’d been so badly neglected.

There were so many questions. I didn’t know where to start to make sense of any of this. One thing was for sure, this had once been a family sanctuary, and it had carried weight and meaning. And if I guessed correctly, my father’s men had done this.

Leaving Cassius to abandon it. Or maybe he came in here from time to time to stoke his fury and keep his hate constant.

This was a crypt of devastating memories.

A warm sense of purpose overtook me. I could make this place a secret project. While Cassius was at work, I’d sneak in here and clean up this place. It would give me something of value to do.

There had to be something to use to clean it.

I looked around, and at the back of the chapel, I found a closet door and opened it cautiously, terrified something might scurry out at me. Inside laid a discarded, beaten-up broom. Reaching in, I grabbed it and brought it out, giving it a try. I wiped a streak of dust off the floor and made my way along.

This would take months. Still, there’d be more cleaning products in the house. I’d make it a wonderful surprise for him. Maybe even bring him in blindfolded and watch his reaction to all my work.

The door creaked on its hinges.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Cassius’s voice bellowed from across the way, cutting through the silence like a serrated knife aiming for bone.

I went to answer, but he cut me off.

“I warned you never to come in here!” His rage was palpable.

He’d paused on the threshold, his eyes wide as they watched where I’d attempted to sweep, as though it was me who’d made all this mess. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to make it beaut—”

“You had no right.” He swept his hands through the air. “No fucking right.” He pivoted fast, heading out and slamming the door on the way with a bang.

The walls shuddered, dust powdering up. The building creaked and strained as though the building itself had come alive with monstrous memories.

Dread drenched the air.

I stood still.

Shocked and bruised at his outrage.

But even as I trembled, I knew. Knew I had to find him. Had to search for him.

A part of me warned that I should let him calm down first, but I hated the thought that I’d done anything to bring him pain.

Being with Cassius and understanding him was like learning to speak a language you never heard before. One you rarely interpreted. The only way to truly understand him was to coax a meaning to all of this out of him.