Page 43 of No Saint

“Fine, just getting some water,” I lie.

“Let me,” he offers.

“No, it’s okay, I can’t sleep anyway.”

“Okay.” He agrees, “would you like me to escort you?”

“Can you just stay here?” I glance back at the door, “Lincoln is still sleeping.”

He nods once, “Of course.”

It was a strange experience with these men. Granted the majority were grouchy and violent, their eyes judging and their mouth giving away exactly how they felt but these ones, they didn’t fit. Like they had two different personalities, one side being the violent and deadly men they were and the other, more gentle, kind even.

I get to the end of the hall and turn back, “What’s your name?”

He snaps his head to me, brows lowering, “Mine?”

I nod.

“Nate, Mrs Saint,” he says, “My name is Nate.”

“You can call me Amelia,” I tell him.

“Mr Saint wouldn’t agree.”

I smirk, “I don’t give a fuck what Gabriel wants.”

I leave him with a smile and head downstairs, the place dark but I know it isn’t sleeping. There will be more guards where Nate came from but hidden, shrouded in the shadows in the corners or behind closed doors.

My feet slap on the marble floors as I make my way to the dining room and find the box exactly where it was left hours ago except now my sons favorite stuffed animal sits on top. It was a bunny, with big floppy ears, it’s fur a light purple and I’d picked it up at a yard sale when he was about six months old and he’d slept with it ever since. Gabriel must have snatched it when he decided to rifle through my apartment and the sight of it makes my heart stutter.

I move the stuffed toy out of the way and open the lid again. It had been too long since I’d even looked in my sketchbook and much longer since I’d felt the vibration of a pencil scratching across the surface of a page. I flick through the pages, my heart feeling light as I recognize my own sketches, the familiar falls of the skirts and dresses I’d created and the intricate details I’d applied to the lacy lingerie designs.

My fingers brush the expensive leather of the book Gabriel had purchased.

I needed this.

I wanted to draw again, I wanted to let all these ideas flow, so I pack it all away, lay the bunny on top and lift it from the table, carrying it out of the dining room and back up to my room.

Nate smiles and opens my door, closing it behind me with a soft click.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep again tonight, I was pumped with excitement at the prospect of creating again, of letting all these ideas I’ve had over the past god knows how long exit my brain.

I switch on the lamp at the side of the bed, glancing to Lincoln to make sure he remains asleep in the sudden light and when he does, I open to the first page on the new sketchbook and select my pencil from the array Gabriel had gifted.

My ideas flow, the image in my head being printed directly onto the paper before me, line after line, I create, carving out a figure and then dressing it in the most stunning dress I’ve ever created. It’s floor length, a deep black in color but set with silver diamonds that hide beneath the sheer lining I manipulate over the main dress. It has a deep, plunging V neckline that stops just above the naval and thin straps that guide it down into a low backline. The skirt of the dress has two slits, almost hidden by the amount of material on the bottom half but I could picture a model walking in it, her legs peeking out from between the carefully placed cuts on the skirt. It would fold between with each step, keeping her protected while teasing at the feminine curves of her thighs.

The colors I select bring out each highlight of the dress, each sparkle of the inset gems, some of which would never be seen at the same time. I draw the dress in different angles, from behind and the side, showing off the delicate and yet remarkable lines of the way it would fall.

By the time I was finished with the initial design the sun was rising, fiery oranges and pinks slashing through the morning sky, wispy clouds forming above a calm sea.

I look down at the gown, my hand aching from use and smile, feeling a little more free than I did the day before. It was a weight lifted from my soul in a way. I’d stifled my passion, pushed it way down and let time pass by. Lincoln would forever be my main focus but in the quiet moments there was no reason why I couldn’t enjoy something like this just for me.

It’s just as I am packing away the equipment that Lincoln begins to stir, and I don’t manage to get it all away before he starts to cry for attention.

I leave it on the bed to attend to my son, taking him through to the en-suite bathroom to give him a wash and get ready for the day. Twenty minutes later I exit only to find Gabriel in the room, staring down at the dress I had created.

“You have an extraordinary talent, Amelia,” he tells me, not looking away from the dress, “It is wasted if you do not do something with it.”

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