Chapter Twenty-Four
Oblivious to the closet door being wide open, I stood undressed in the closet. My dress was cast away into the laundry chute, leaving me in naked underneath a bathrobe in front of the dresser; my mind reeled with predictions for what might happen that evening. After the excitement we'd had and the love we'd shared, I yearned for Gavin's return so that we might resume whatever we were going to end up doing for the rest of the night.
My morals were firm in their beliefs, that I was determined to never have pre-marital sex; it was one of the virtues my father had instilled within me. Morals aside, I found myself questioning exactly why abstinence was virtuous. When not presented with the most amazing partner of all time, it was quite easy to declare premarital sex an aberration one would never be guilty of but after the euphoric evening I'd had, holding true to my preconceived belief system was difficult. Put frankly, I still held onto my morals, but I wasn't about to stop myself from having sex, if that's what the situation led to. Granted, I wasn't going to throw myself on the ground and open wide at the first sight of Gavin; inviting sex would flat-out contradict everything I'd ever been taught. In my mind however, I could forgive myself if we ended up getting laid because Gavin and I did what felt right at the time. In a way, it was a more innocent approach to what might ultimately erase my desire to remain a virgin until after my wedding day.
Moving on, I decided a bath for two seemed appropriate, besides, if we were clothed, nothing could happen. In search of my elusive bikini top, I rummaged through the top drawer I remembered seeing it in recently. Naturally, because I was looking for it, finding it took longer than it should have; after a few minutes of frustration, my fingertips felt one of the straps in the back of the drawer beneath several other bras.
The bikini bottom was easier to find because I remembered watching Alexia put it away for me after it had been washed. As I pulled it up to my waist, I had an idea. Imaging it might be cute for Gavin to have to search for his swim trunks, I flung open the neighboring drawer and stepped into the slick shorts.
After tying a bow in the drawstring, I sprinted to the bathroom. The tub's push-button controls and digital readouts stumped me for a moment; I knew the exact temperature I liked but Gavin's tastes weren't so clearly defined. Attempting to find a solution to my dilemma, I contemplated turning on a random mixture of hot and cold water; the luxurious controls made me reconsider for fear of being uncivilized. Because it never occurred to me that what I liked would probably satisfy Gavin as well, regardless of his personal temperature preference, I leaned against the sink to learn patience in silence. It proved arduous.
If I listened carefully and ignored the whisper of my own respiration, I could hear his thumping footsteps coming down the hallway outside. His clunky feet were so large, there was no doubt it was him; since moving to McLeod Manor, I'd heard many people walk up and down the hallway my room was on and Gavin's footsteps were the only ones to ker-thump the way his did.
When I recognized the sound of his approach, my heart skipped three and a half beats but instead of Gavin sauntering into the bathroom, I was met only with confused disappointment. It was Gavin coming back—there was no doubt about it—but he didn't seem to be returning to the correct room.
A twinge of anger dripped into a silent puddle of confusion although I suppressed my exasperation and listened to the echo of two voices on the other side of the bathroom mirror.
"This is the bathroom?" Gavin's voice asked, presumably bored. "Wow, this is a spectacular view!"
"It is, isn't it?" It sounded like Alexia, which made sense if she lived next door, like she claimed.
A toilet flushed behind the wall.
"That was odd," Although I agreed with it, this statement sounded like Gavin was talking to himself as he often did. In light of what he said next, I couldn't be so sure anymore; he could've been talking to Alexia.
"What exactly did you need help with?"
"Come here you," Alexia cackled. "Oh, I, uh, needed you to help moi get my dress off."
What?! Lucidity boiled in me; Gavin had one chance and one chance alone to answer her correctly.
"You're doing a fine job yourself," Gavin commented impatiently, inadvertently sealing his fate.
"Am I?" Alexia sounded like a purring cat. "Then let me help you!"
The thudding clash of two bodies coming together rattled the mirror on this side of the wall between myself and the primal behavior going on in Alexia's bathroom.
I wanted to vomit.
"I'm fine, thank you."
"Tell me, what do you think of the view?" Alexia's sickening tone was drunk with lust. Her tone was sickening because it was a carnal omen foreshadowing sexual activity. More than that, it sickened me because Gavin was involved.
"I told you already, it's marvelous. I'm going now." Gavin would have used the same monotonous tone if I'd been the one making the passes, as it should've been. He was so fascinatingly dull, not that I'd ever tell him so after what I'd heard.
"You're so intriguing," Alexia mused; I could just see her caressing his bare chest. How I wished for a double-barreled shotgun.
"I'm ready to get it going whenever you are," She continued, "Love."
"Get down!" Gavin commanded forcefully; he'd never spoken to me with that much passion. "NOW!"
"Oh yes!" Alexia cheered as the gut-wrenching noise of two huddled-together bodies impacting the floor preceded a deafening shattering sound. My first thoughts overflowed with utter disgust; how violent could two people screw each other?!
Literally milliseconds later, McLeod Manor's sprinkler system cut on followed immediately by a recording of Sir Harold's voice over the intercom.
"Attention residents and guests of McLeod Manor, do not be alarmed; the sprinklers have come on because McLeod Manor has come under siege. I, Sir Harold McLeod, assure you McLeod Manor is perfectly safe. The activated sprinkler system and the self-locking doors are a precautionary measure designed to resist all attacks of this sort, and that in a matter of hours, you will be free once more to roam McLeod Manor. If you have any questions, the Servants will be glad to assist you and until the siege has ended and the doors unlocked, please remain calm and stay where you are."
On cue, the bathroom door swung closed, latched, and locked. Panicking, I leapt at the door and pounded my clenched fists on it, having reached the door after hearing a deadbolt slide into the doorframe. As I turned, I saw a greasy ear print smeared on the bathroom mirror; I hadn't realized that I'd had my ear pressed against the reflective glass.
Realizing the hopelessness of my situation, I leaned against the door and slid to the floor where I sat crying tears hidden in the icy downpour from the bathroom's only fire sprinkler. According to the ticking clock on the wall next to the toilet, I sat there for three hours weeping until my nose was clogged by the build up of snot.
It was Sir Harold who rescued me from my prison. Sir Harold, and Jade to be precise.
They unlocked the door and pulled it open, causing me to tumble backwards onto their feet.
I didn't care the sopping bathrobe I wore was untied, nor that Jade and Sir Harold saw pale white cleavage beneath a black bikini top and an inward-facing navel three or four inches above a neon orange male swimsuit. I didn't even care about the clumsy weight stretching out the bathrobe and making it uncomfortable to wear. All I cared about was finding that damn bastard whom I had deigned to kiss.
Apparently Sir Harold was intimidated by the drops of water coalescing at the end of my bangs and rolling off my cheeks; he surrendered his keys the moment he understood I was taking them.
Padding across the soft carpet, I seethed in cold, silent rage. The door to the room next to mine creaked open and I took my time finding the bathroom; this was the maddest I'd been in a long time, and I was expressing it my way. Most people were consumed by rage but unlike them, I didn't need to become a wild boar to express my frustration. All I needed was a scowl; the angrier I became, the calmer I appeared.
The door to the cursed bathroom of that harlot's revolved on its hinges at a snail's pace but still it wasn't slow enough to satisfy me. Even the fumbling of the keys in the lock happened too fast for my liking.
An all-too-familiar concrete, the color of a mutt's urine spot on an otherwise blemish-free yard crunched beneath my bare feet. The heinous decoration covered every surface the original toxic gas had touched; the moldy shower curtain straind beneath the concrete's added weight and as I stood there, it stretched off its rings and crumpled to the shower floor.
The repugnant locks of the degenerate Alexia Davis were nearly concealed beneath the evidence of a Catrion attack. Apart from a pink thong, she was clad only in her concrete shell; decadent evening wear, two gloves, and a bra were on the tiled floor nearby.
Gavin was diagonal on top of Alexia. One hand looked like it had firmly grasped her bare breast before death walked by the shattered window. His other hand was on the ground next to Alexia; his pinky was kept warm beneath the waist strap of Alexia's garment. Her thong was tugged beneath her waist and a butt cheek by Gavin's lifeless hand; as a result, the skimpy triangle covering her crotch revealed a few curly hairs.
I'd seen Gavin lay his head the way it laid many times before, only then he'd been asleep on my stomach, not some wench's. One ear was smashed into Alexia's soft side; I imagined Gavin, in his infidelity, found pleasure out of the position. That pervert probably had laid that way on me so he could stare beneath the elastic of my pants and underwear as he was doing with his mistress.
As if Gavin's hold on her wasn't enough to torment me, the toilet rug at his feet was scrunched up like he'd made a mad dash to scoot close enough to Alexia to insert himself. I pictured the wrinkled carpet beneath the balls of his feet as a feeble attempt to gain leverage.
Not hearing Sir Harold note the broken window and remnants of a glass orb, I leapt farther into the bathroom and delivered a kick so hard to Gavin's side, he rolled, and Alexia's thong stretched down another two inches.
"Come here Sruun," Sir Harold coaxed. My response was to hurl his keys at his head.
Because there wasn't anything else I could do, I stepped out of the bathroom but that was the only reason I did. Sir Harold had nothing to do with it.
Jade touched my shoulder as I stormed past. Little did she know her attempt to calm me had backfired.
"Please refrain from touching me with those unholy appendages of yours. I don't know where they've been and I sincerely doubt you wash them as much as you need to."
Jade slowly withdrew her hand. "Sruun?" She sounded hurt. Good for her.
"Don't make a cliché out of my name—I happen to like it." I snapped over my shoulder while marching to my room.
She didn't answer me, which was probably for the best.
Gavin's audacity was appalling. I thought I could trust him, that I was his alone, but there it was, out in the open, that he didn't mind keeping concubines.
The more I thought about it, the more sense it made; he'd always fancied that garden tool. I saw it in the way he looked at her. I could even hear his voice quiver when he talked to her! In my opinion, he got off easy.
Slamming the door to my room and locking it shot behind me, I kicked Gavin's pile of junk off my bag and rummaged through it for my knife. Gavin didn't like my use for the blessed knife, but that made my use of it this time so much sweeter. Anything I could do to anger him was worth more to me than every ounce of happiness I'd ever felt. For his betrayal, he deserved whatever my irreparably heart could conjure up as vengeance. My only regret was that he was dead before I could stab wedge hundreds of splintering toothpicks into every single hole his body had.
He really was dead. The realization alone was more painful than the curved lines forming on my arm. I wanted to die if only to be with him.
Gasps of shooting pain and unrelenting grief escaped the same lips which had once savored the putrid slime secreted by Gavin's kiss. All I could do was concentrate and cut ever deeper. My incisions were so many, my blood drained freely.
Sorrow seeped from my tired complexion as the oxygen-rich vein juice dyed multiple white washcloths crimson; for the first time, I was afraid of what I'd done. My physical pain slowly replaced my emotional pain, but I was too dizzy to appreciate it. My world bobbled up and down, side to side, and along the diagonals as complete blackness consumed me.
Though I could barely see straight, I was conscious enough to realize this time I'd cut too much…every other time, I took breaks from the cutting to bandage the wounds, but this time there was too much blood too fast…if I didn't patch myself up fast, it was entirely conceivable that I'd get my chance to murder Gavin before the night was over…my hands…weren't working anymore…I couldn't stop the bleeding…yet I wasn't done cutting…I still had so much more emotion to let loose…but too much blood…no…it's…not…fair…job…not…done…
And then there was darkness.
Oblivious to the closet door being wide open, I stood undressed in the closet. My dress was cast away into the laundry chute, leaving me in naked underneath a bathrobe in front of the dresser; my mind reeled with predictions for what might happen that evening. After the excitement we'd had and the love we'd shared, I yearned for Gavin's return so that we might resume whatever we were going to end up doing for the rest of the night.
My morals were firm in their beliefs, that I was determined to never have pre-marital sex; it was one of the virtues my father had instilled within me. Morals aside, I found myself questioning exactly why abstinence was virtuous. When not presented with the most amazing partner of all time, it was quite easy to declare premarital sex an aberration one would never be guilty of but after the euphoric evening I'd had, holding true to my preconceived belief system was difficult. Put frankly, I still held onto my morals, but I wasn't about to stop myself from having sex, if that's what the situation led to. Granted, I wasn't going to throw myself on the ground and open wide at the first sight of Gavin; inviting sex would flat-out contradict everything I'd ever been taught. In my mind however, I could forgive myself if we ended up getting laid because Gavin and I did what felt right at the time. In a way, it was a more innocent approach to what might ultimately erase my desire to remain a virgin until after my wedding day.
Moving on, I decided a bath for two seemed appropriate, besides, if we were clothed, nothing could happen. In search of my elusive bikini top, I rummaged through the top drawer I remembered seeing it in recently. Naturally, because I was looking for it, finding it took longer than it should have; after a few minutes of frustration, my fingertips felt one of the straps in the back of the drawer beneath several other bras.
The bikini bottom was easier to find because I remembered watching Alexia put it away for me after it had been washed. As I pulled it up to my waist, I had an idea. Imaging it might be cute for Gavin to have to search for his swim trunks, I flung open the neighboring drawer and stepped into the slick shorts.
After tying a bow in the drawstring, I sprinted to the bathroom. The tub's push-button controls and digital readouts stumped me for a moment; I knew the exact temperature I liked but Gavin's tastes weren't so clearly defined. Attempting to find a solution to my dilemma, I contemplated turning on a random mixture of hot and cold water; the luxurious controls made me reconsider for fear of being uncivilized. Because it never occurred to me that what I liked would probably satisfy Gavin as well, regardless of his personal temperature preference, I leaned against the sink to learn patience in silence. It proved arduous.
If I listened carefully and ignored the whisper of my own respiration, I could hear his thumping footsteps coming down the hallway outside. His clunky feet were so large, there was no doubt it was him; since moving to McLeod Manor, I'd heard many people walk up and down the hallway my room was on and Gavin's footsteps were the only ones to ker-thump the way his did.
When I recognized the sound of his approach, my heart skipped three and a half beats but instead of Gavin sauntering into the bathroom, I was met only with confused disappointment. It was Gavin coming back—there was no doubt about it—but he didn't seem to be returning to the correct room.
A twinge of anger dripped into a silent puddle of confusion although I suppressed my exasperation and listened to the echo of two voices on the other side of the bathroom mirror.
"This is the bathroom?" Gavin's voice asked, presumably bored. "Wow, this is a spectacular view!"
"It is, isn't it?" It sounded like Alexia, which made sense if she lived next door, like she claimed.
A toilet flushed behind the wall.
"That was odd," Although I agreed with it, this statement sounded like Gavin was talking to himself as he often did. In light of what he said next, I couldn't be so sure anymore; he could've been talking to Alexia.
"What exactly did you need help with?"
"Come here you," Alexia cackled. "Oh, I, uh, needed you to help moi get my dress off."
What?! Lucidity boiled in me; Gavin had one chance and one chance alone to answer her correctly.
"You're doing a fine job yourself," Gavin commented impatiently, inadvertently sealing his fate.
"Am I?" Alexia sounded like a purring cat. "Then let me help you!"
The thudding clash of two bodies coming together rattled the mirror on this side of the wall between myself and the primal behavior going on in Alexia's bathroom.
I wanted to vomit.
"I'm fine, thank you."
"Tell me, what do you think of the view?" Alexia's sickening tone was drunk with lust. Her tone was sickening because it was a carnal omen foreshadowing sexual activity. More than that, it sickened me because Gavin was involved.
"I told you already, it's marvelous. I'm going now." Gavin would have used the same monotonous tone if I'd been the one making the passes, as it should've been. He was so fascinatingly dull, not that I'd ever tell him so after what I'd heard.
"You're so intriguing," Alexia mused; I could just see her caressing his bare chest. How I wished for a double-barreled shotgun.
"I'm ready to get it going whenever you are," She continued, "Love."
"Get down!" Gavin commanded forcefully; he'd never spoken to me with that much passion. "NOW!"
"Oh yes!" Alexia cheered as the gut-wrenching noise of two huddled-together bodies impacting the floor preceded a deafening shattering sound. My first thoughts overflowed with utter disgust; how violent could two people screw each other?!
Literally milliseconds later, McLeod Manor's sprinkler system cut on followed immediately by a recording of Sir Harold's voice over the intercom.
"Attention residents and guests of McLeod Manor, do not be alarmed; the sprinklers have come on because McLeod Manor has come under siege. I, Sir Harold McLeod, assure you McLeod Manor is perfectly safe. The activated sprinkler system and the self-locking doors are a precautionary measure designed to resist all attacks of this sort, and that in a matter of hours, you will be free once more to roam McLeod Manor. If you have any questions, the Servants will be glad to assist you and until the siege has ended and the doors unlocked, please remain calm and stay where you are."
On cue, the bathroom door swung closed, latched, and locked. Panicking, I leapt at the door and pounded my clenched fists on it, having reached the door after hearing a deadbolt slide into the doorframe. As I turned, I saw a greasy ear print smeared on the bathroom mirror; I hadn't realized that I'd had my ear pressed against the reflective glass.
Realizing the hopelessness of my situation, I leaned against the door and slid to the floor where I sat crying tears hidden in the icy downpour from the bathroom's only fire sprinkler. According to the ticking clock on the wall next to the toilet, I sat there for three hours weeping until my nose was clogged by the build up of snot.
It was Sir Harold who rescued me from my prison. Sir Harold, and Jade to be precise.
They unlocked the door and pulled it open, causing me to tumble backwards onto their feet.
I didn't care the sopping bathrobe I wore was untied, nor that Jade and Sir Harold saw pale white cleavage beneath a black bikini top and an inward-facing navel three or four inches above a neon orange male swimsuit. I didn't even care about the clumsy weight stretching out the bathrobe and making it uncomfortable to wear. All I cared about was finding that damn bastard whom I had deigned to kiss.
Apparently Sir Harold was intimidated by the drops of water coalescing at the end of my bangs and rolling off my cheeks; he surrendered his keys the moment he understood I was taking them.
Padding across the soft carpet, I seethed in cold, silent rage. The door to the room next to mine creaked open and I took my time finding the bathroom; this was the maddest I'd been in a long time, and I was expressing it my way. Most people were consumed by rage but unlike them, I didn't need to become a wild boar to express my frustration. All I needed was a scowl; the angrier I became, the calmer I appeared.
The door to the cursed bathroom of that harlot's revolved on its hinges at a snail's pace but still it wasn't slow enough to satisfy me. Even the fumbling of the keys in the lock happened too fast for my liking.
An all-too-familiar concrete, the color of a mutt's urine spot on an otherwise blemish-free yard crunched beneath my bare feet. The heinous decoration covered every surface the original toxic gas had touched; the moldy shower curtain straind beneath the concrete's added weight and as I stood there, it stretched off its rings and crumpled to the shower floor.
The repugnant locks of the degenerate Alexia Davis were nearly concealed beneath the evidence of a Catrion attack. Apart from a pink thong, she was clad only in her concrete shell; decadent evening wear, two gloves, and a bra were on the tiled floor nearby.
Gavin was diagonal on top of Alexia. One hand looked like it had firmly grasped her bare breast before death walked by the shattered window. His other hand was on the ground next to Alexia; his pinky was kept warm beneath the waist strap of Alexia's garment. Her thong was tugged beneath her waist and a butt cheek by Gavin's lifeless hand; as a result, the skimpy triangle covering her crotch revealed a few curly hairs.
I'd seen Gavin lay his head the way it laid many times before, only then he'd been asleep on my stomach, not some wench's. One ear was smashed into Alexia's soft side; I imagined Gavin, in his infidelity, found pleasure out of the position. That pervert probably had laid that way on me so he could stare beneath the elastic of my pants and underwear as he was doing with his mistress.
As if Gavin's hold on her wasn't enough to torment me, the toilet rug at his feet was scrunched up like he'd made a mad dash to scoot close enough to Alexia to insert himself. I pictured the wrinkled carpet beneath the balls of his feet as a feeble attempt to gain leverage.
Not hearing Sir Harold note the broken window and remnants of a glass orb, I leapt farther into the bathroom and delivered a kick so hard to Gavin's side, he rolled, and Alexia's thong stretched down another two inches.
"Come here Sruun," Sir Harold coaxed. My response was to hurl his keys at his head.
Because there wasn't anything else I could do, I stepped out of the bathroom but that was the only reason I did. Sir Harold had nothing to do with it.
Jade touched my shoulder as I stormed past. Little did she know her attempt to calm me had backfired.
"Please refrain from touching me with those unholy appendages of yours. I don't know where they've been and I sincerely doubt you wash them as much as you need to."
Jade slowly withdrew her hand. "Sruun?" She sounded hurt. Good for her.
"Don't make a cliché out of my name—I happen to like it." I snapped over my shoulder while marching to my room.
She didn't answer me, which was probably for the best.
Gavin's audacity was appalling. I thought I could trust him, that I was his alone, but there it was, out in the open, that he didn't mind keeping concubines.
The more I thought about it, the more sense it made; he'd always fancied that garden tool. I saw it in the way he looked at her. I could even hear his voice quiver when he talked to her! In my opinion, he got off easy.
Slamming the door to my room and locking it shot behind me, I kicked Gavin's pile of junk off my bag and rummaged through it for my knife. Gavin didn't like my use for the blessed knife, but that made my use of it this time so much sweeter. Anything I could do to anger him was worth more to me than every ounce of happiness I'd ever felt. For his betrayal, he deserved whatever my irreparably heart could conjure up as vengeance. My only regret was that he was dead before I could stab wedge hundreds of splintering toothpicks into every single hole his body had.
He really was dead. The realization alone was more painful than the curved lines forming on my arm. I wanted to die if only to be with him.
Gasps of shooting pain and unrelenting grief escaped the same lips which had once savored the putrid slime secreted by Gavin's kiss. All I could do was concentrate and cut ever deeper. My incisions were so many, my blood drained freely.
Sorrow seeped from my tired complexion as the oxygen-rich vein juice dyed multiple white washcloths crimson; for the first time, I was afraid of what I'd done. My physical pain slowly replaced my emotional pain, but I was too dizzy to appreciate it. My world bobbled up and down, side to side, and along the diagonals as complete blackness consumed me.
Though I could barely see straight, I was conscious enough to realize this time I'd cut too much…every other time, I took breaks from the cutting to bandage the wounds, but this time there was too much blood too fast…if I didn't patch myself up fast, it was entirely conceivable that I'd get my chance to murder Gavin before the night was over…my hands…weren't working anymore…I couldn't stop the bleeding…yet I wasn't done cutting…I still had so much more emotion to let loose…but too much blood…no…it's…not…fair…job…
And then there was darkness.
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