Page 68 of Cardinal House

I’m not trying to hide myself from him, continuing up the path, striding steps that take me up the three front stairs to the door. Fingers curling around the brass knob, I push it open, the scent of cigars flooding out into the fresh air, tainting the night with its vile odour.

Sickness swirls inside my stomach, bile rushing up my throat and coating the back of my tongue, but I step through the opening like I’m entering a part of my life I didn’t believe was real until right at this very moment.

The foyer is full of guards, every instinct inside of me is screaming at me not to look at them, which is why I lift my chin, staring each and every one of them in the face. Not one of them shies away, letting me see them and their blank stares. Men who have had their big hands on my nude body, holding me down and muffling my screams with their palms as they helped my uncle abuse me.

Pain shoots up my spine. A phantom bolt of agony driving up through my coccyx and ripping its way into my chest. I know it’s not real, I know there’s no blood dripping down my thighs, even though my brain makes me believe that there is. The feeling of crimson running down the backs of my legs, leaving little bloody footsteps in my wake.

It makes the loose elastic around my hips, small cotton knickers covering my private parts, feel as tight as a noose as I start up the stairs. No one tries to stop me, as though they knew I was coming. Sentry along the walls, stationed on every fourth step. Lining the long hallway on the upper floor that leads to our rooms.

Our.

Nothing in this house was ever mine.

Not even me.

I’m numb by the time I reach the furthest door. The wooden barriers opening for me as I approach. Everything exactly as it was the last time I was here.

The drive home is silent, but I’m rushing with anxiety. Adrenaline pings through me like splinted shards of glass, nicking at my veins as they ricochet through me.

The guard who came to collect me isn’t new, I can only tell that by a feeling, the way he moves like the rest of them, four steps ahead or behind me at all times, no eye contact, no touching. Opening and closing doors for me, ushering me silently into the car, in fact, the words he spoke to me in the hospital entrance are the only ones he ever has. I don’t look at him, my eyes lowered to my hands in my lap.

I think of Wolf Blackwell, only moments ago, telling me he could keep me safe.

Me telling him I know but leaving without him anyway.

He’s a stranger.

One that treats me with kindness and respect, secret smiles and soft touches. His scent of lilies and teakwood, makes him smell exactly like he is, strong but delicate. Soft.

With me.

I should have let him take me away, keep me safe.

I think of his mouth brushing mine, his whispered words pressing to my mouth, and I wish that I had kissed him. I wish that I had let my fingers dance across his tanned skin, let his rough hands meet my flesh.

It’s too late for wishes now.

Mine would never be granted anyway.

The car door opens once we stop, my footsteps taking me automatically up the path. It doesn’t occur to me to run, this is such routine now, that I just do as I should. If I were watching someone else do this, I know I’d be screaming at them to turn around and try to escape.

Instead, I’m walking through the upper floor of the house, and entering our rooms made to look like a romantic space, but instead hold sadistic intent and are used to inflict pain and torment.

“Luna,” Uncle Nolan greets with that slash of a sick smile across his mouth, “I’ve been waiting for you, sweet girl.”

That’s how he greets me now. From his relaxed slouch in his leather chair, positioned in front of the fire, flames roaring behind the grate. His green eyes come to mine, hard and terrifying, and I feel as though I am six years old all over again.

“What did you do to my mother?” I demand it, my voice as loud as I can get to project from my wobbly lip.

My body trembles, teeth clenching, but he doesn’t even look surprised by the question. Doesn’t look like he’s seen a ghost. As though he knew all along that I wasn’t dead.

Nolan doesn’t bother standing. Instead, he just smirks, running that gaze up the length of me.

“You’re stronger than I thought, sweet girl,” his lips curl into an award winning smile. “Much stronger than poor, ungrateful, Lucia.” He chuckles, flicking a hand towards his guards, dismissing them from the room. “She was so perfect, looked just like you, you could have been twins.” He sighs whimsically, like he would have loved to have the two of us together. “She spooked too easy. I came on too strong. I’ll admit, I wanted to wine and dine her. I sent her lavish gifts, sent you plenty of toys, too, trying to win her over. But she rejected it all, every advance, every offer, every door I tried, she slammed in my face. Told me I was scaring her, lied about having a husband in an attempt to frighten me off. But I wanted you,” he tells me, flicking his green eyes onto mine. “I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

“So you killed her?” It’s a whisper, the question, and I hate that it sounds so small, so weak, but I’m trembling with rage.

“For you,” he breathes, like it means something more than him wanting to kidnap and abuse a child. “Everything I have ever done has been for you.” Nolan pushes up from the chair and I hold myself still, even though it takes every ounce of strength in me, I don’t move. “So, how do you think it felt when I saw you with him.” He spits on the floor at my feet, his upper lip lifting from his teeth, snarling at me. “I watch every fucking camera in that hospital when you’re there. You think I was going to let you be stolen from me?!”

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