Page 44 of Depravity

My mother would become frozen, still as a statue. Magnus would scoop the baby up and the three of us would leave, passing the doctor as he rolled in a machine that seemed to resemble some sort of medieval torture device.

And then those screams.

They’d ring out in the hall, ring out through the entire house.

My hands find my ears, my teeth clench as if I can hear them now.

Make it stop. Make it stop.

I shake my head, burying those childish thoughts. What else was my father to do? He could hardly let her descend further into her madness. No, she needed to be treated. She needed to be stopped.

My hands shake as I open up her jewellery box. Inside I rifle past the smaller items, and my fingers close around the cool smoothness of an emerald pendant as big as a quail’s egg. I pull it out, holding it up, admiring its beauty.

It’s a necklace my grandmother had, one that her mother had before her. It’s a family heirloom, a piece of genuine Blake History. I brush my thumb over the surface, imagining how beautiful this will look nestled between Brynn’s breasts.

As I slip it into my pocket, I can feel the weight of it pulling the fabric down, pressing against my thigh.

Women like jewellery, they like shiny things and pretty pieces. Maybe this will be enough to buy my new wife’s love. Maybe this will make her happy enough that she’ll stop being such a little bitch.

Maybe.

She’s in that same fucking pose as I walk in.

Curled up, staring out the window like she’s serving a life sentence. I grit my teeth, feeling that flash of anger once more.

Why isn’t she happy? Why isn’t she grateful?

I know what her life was like back at the Monclere house. I know they beat her, starved her, and treated her like shit. She lived in some crappy old wing of the house, right over the servant quarters, as if she were little more than trash.

But here she is a queen. Here she can have anything she wants.

I let out a snarl before I can stop it and she takes a sharp breath, flinching as she forces herself to look at me.

“Come here,” I say quietly.

Her eyes dart to my hand, to the holdall.

“Wha, wha, what is that..?” She stammers.

“Your things.”

She frowns deeper, like I’m speaking a foreign language.

“Come here right now.” I snap, losing what little patience I have left.

She scrambles up, her eyes going wide as she moves to obey me and I’ll admit, I like the look of fear on her face.

I drop the bag, letting it fall with a thud. She stops in front of me, just out of reach and I take a step, closing the distance. For a second, we just stare at one another. At least, I stare at her while she stares at my feet like she doesn’t have the balls to look me in the eye.

“I got you something.” I say, pulling the necklace from my pocket. As I hold it out in front of her face, she doesn’t react. “It belonged to my mother.” I add.

Still nothing.

I undo the chain, fixing it around her neck and it sits there glinting, just as perfectly as I imagined.

God, she’s so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.

Her big doe eyes seem to well with tears and for one brief moment, I think it’s with joy. With love, that she understands what her place now is and that she’s fully accepting it.

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