Page 18 of Deliria

My father fixes her with a look that tells her to shut the fuck up while I take a long swig of my coffee.

“The doctor is going to be flying over later.” I state once I’ve finished it.

“Good.”

“I’ve asked for more medication. Stronger stuff. He said he can provide us with whatever we need, but we have to be careful of doses and drug interactions.”

We have to mix the drugs in with her food, hide it in ways she can’t discover after her last major episode almost got one of the staff killed. I don’t like doing it. I don’t like betraying her likethat, but it’s what’s necessary. It’s what we have to do to keep her safe, to keep her sane.

My father nods while my mother rolls her eyes as if this is all some sort of joke.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering.” She huffs. “If it were me, I’d give her the entire lot and be done with it.”

“Irene.” My father snaps.

“There’s a million reasons why you should just cut your losses now.” She continues. As if we’re not all aware of how much my wife is insured for. How much I’d make if she did suddenly pop her clogs.

“I’m not prepared to do that.” I state. I know it’s always been about appearances to her, but this is about more than that, far more. My eyes meet my father’s and I know he understands, that he gets it. This is about doing what is right, not what is easy. If we put the hard work in now, then we will reap everything we deserve in due course.

I push back my chair, stalking out of the room. Whatever her opinions are on the matter, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve enough on my plate as it is and I don’t need her bullshit muddying the situation further.

I walk through the house, noting the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Where this island sits in relation to the mainland means we’re far more exposed to the elements. And we also have our own microclimate. One that is far more tempestuous - not that I mind. I like the rain. I like the chaos. It just makes access shitty when your main means of transportation is by air.

In my office, I grab my things, wondering if I should even bother going in. I could just as easily work from home, and it would mean I could keep a better eye on Scarlett. It would also mean I’m here if the weather does take a bad turn and we’re cut off for more than just a few hours.

At the window I can just make her out, her figure tiny and frail against the darkening backdrop as she wanders down the track.

What is she hoping to achieve? What sort of salvation does she think she will find out there in the cold?

I don’t want to think about the crazy voices in her head. About that irrational part of her that is clearly taking over again. But I curl my fists, growing more frustrated as I watch her slowly disappear.

Had I not told her yesterday that she isn’t to go out of sight? Had I not made myself abundantly clear? There’s enough of the beach by the track to fill all her damned want for it. What possible reason does she have to keep wandering off?

I thought we’d started to make some headway. I thought she was starting to be obedient. Now I can see I was sorely mistaken on that front.

My wife is a headstrong, determined woman, and despite everything, despite her poor health, she seems determined to do as she pleases.

Well, two can play that game.

If she fights me, I’ll only make my point clearer.

I don’t care how far I have to go. What I have to resort to.

If I have to lock her away, then I will. If I have to tie her to the bed, then fine.

I don’t care what has to be done. She will learn who is in control here. That she is mine. And I can do with her as I please.

Scarlett

The wind tugs at the hem of my thick wool coat, the salty air filling my lungs with each breath I take.

The beach is completely deserted, not that I expected otherwise. The only sounds are the distant cries of the gulls and the rhythmic crash of the waves against the shore.

It’s peaceful here, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of the mansion.

For a little while I just sit there in the dunes, breathing in air that feels lighter and far less oppressive than what circulates in that house.

My hands dig into the sand. I pull out a stone, tossing it angrily into the water.

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