OPHELIA: Chapter 10

Blurb

Elizabeth Lockwick wants one thing… to ensure Ophelia remains dead.

For years she’s weaved a life seen through rose-coloured glasses in idyllic Vermont with her husband Sebastian Lockwick, an alluring man with a broken moral compass, whose intent lies in protecting his wife. However, apart from her unorthodox understanding of Sebastian’s dark and gritty hidden nature, she finds herself slipping away from her sanity in maintaining this picturesque life.

After receiving a gruesome gift from an unknown sender threatening to expose her, she finds herself haunted and possibly hunted by her buried past.

In order to make things right for herself and ensure that her secret is hidden, she reluctantly travels back to her sleepy small hometown in Wisconsin. A town where young girls seem to be mysteriously disappearing. There, she reunites with the dysfunctional Pierre-Louis’, a French-American family who sheltered her in their manor in her time of need.

With time slipping away, she struggles with her guilt and a dangerous affair and realizes that perhaps Ophelia wasn’t dead after all these years.

Elizabeth suddenly finds herself caught in a game of cat and mouse, unsure of which she really is this time and who she can trust.

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Chapter 10

Present.

The roof was wetter than she was tonight. Heavy raindrops pounded on, turning into a storm of desire and frustration. He was gone longer than she’d expected. Not a single call. The past few days with these unwanted guests in her house made her uneasy, to say the least. Yet, wanted by her husband. Who the hell told him he could make a decision like that without her? God, he frustrated the shit out of her. God, did she love him anyway. It’s a good thing love had no meaning between them.

Elizabeth twirled her wedding ring around her delicate finger and shifted restlessly on the empty bed. What an empty promise he made to her. What a mirage of a relationship. What the world saw was nothing near the truth. It’s simply what he wanted them to see. Their marriage wasn’t even real to begin with. The feeling of loneliness crept up between her legs. A feeling she knew too well. She shifted again. The nerve that man had to leave her here like this for days. Treating her like some housekeeper. She was thirsty. Really thirsty. The bottles at the bedside table had all been drained from earlier today. Wine was a brutal thing when too much was swallowed. She hated cramps with a passion but at least she wasn’t pregnant. She hated when he wasn’t around her when she felt like this. He was fun to pretend around, she had to admit that.

Deciding to refill the water mug which spilled to the floor, she pushed herself off the bed and threw over a white shirt of her husband’s. This was the closest she felt to him in days, somehow it warmed her heart. She chuckled at the thought. So helplessly in love. Brushing her fingertips over the assortment of his cologne, she opted for her favourite. Musky. Dark. Sensual. Charming. Everything she’d describe Sebastian Lockwick to be. Thank god he was an attractive bastard who smelt like heavenly hell. That made this whole lie so much easier.

The lights of the hall had been buried in darkness, yet the moonlight fought through the windows which luminated the moon-crest sloped staircase. The warm soles of her feet licked the icy marble beneath her as she made her way into the kitchen. Her eyes burned from the lack of sleep and worry. Men.

The sound of the ice maker suddenly startled her, causing her to spill the water she was pouring into a glass. “Shit.” As she pressed the rim of the glass to her lips, the sound of a hushed door closing grasped her attention. 11:55pm. Who could have been down here so late? Was someone breaking in? Surely, she could have handled the situation herself. Grabbing a hold of the nearest knife at the counter, she carefully trailed towards the sound.

A blanket of silence fell upon her at the sight of her husband drenched in blood, white shirt now wine, the tang of metallic red sin caressed her nose, his hair soaked in thick salted sweat and blood that slicked to his forehead. His eyes, however, reflected from the moonlight in its majestic silver blue. Elizabeth frowned deeply as he stalked toward her and stood inches apart. 

“Well, you’re bloody late.” She broke the silence, annoyed.

Sebastian gave out a low chuckle, astonished at his wife’s dry humor, “A pun? Really?”

“How dare you leave me here like this,” she softly raged, bringing the knife up to his throat, “How fking dare you.”

“Love,” he cooed into her left ear, and pulled her tenderly by the waist, clasping the spaces between them. “I missed you too.”

“Are you forgetting the knife in my hand, Sebastian?” She warned.

“Go ahead, stab me.”

Sighing, she dropped it and wrapped her arms around his red moist neck. Swiftly, scooping her into his arms and perching her upon the kitchen’s island. “I should get cleaned up,” he suggested, “I don’t want you getting ill.”

He’s a good actor she thought.

“No, no. I’m not waiting anymore,” Elizabeth breathed shortly, locking her legs around him. She needed to search him. Pressing her lips onto his, she’d slip her tongue in through smiles. He tasted like blood and vodka. Whose blood was this? She hadn’t even known. His hands travelled along her naked legs, as she moaned into him. Up. She searched his left pockets. Up. And then right. All clear. Pulling away slightly, she kept an arm’s length, breathed, and slapped him across the face. She wasn’t in the mood to pretend this late at night.

“You’re upset. I shouldn’t have left like that. I know. Thing got… complicated,” he motioned to his drenched attire. Elizabeth locked the bathroom door behind her and let out a heavy shiver. Whose blood was this? Who did he hurt? Did they have to move again? No. She was beginning to settle in here. He couldn’t fk this up for her. They had a deal. They protect each other. No questions asked. They both learned to respect that. Right? He was no saint and nor was she. This was survival. That’s all she knew. Yet, she found herself hurting on days. He wouldn’t ruin this for her. Would he? Tears begin streaming down her cheeks. Not because she wanted this life, but because she was scared it would all fall apart. She was scared that her past would finally catch up to her and destroy this little world she built. God, if there was one, gave her a second chance when she met Sebastian in the hospital four years ago. It was a sinful blessing. Sometimes she wondered if it was God who gave her that chance but then she reminded herself that the devil is on no one’s side but his own. And that was understood from experience. She had flushed all the medication into the toilet and replaced them with others earlier today, just to be safe. Her tears hadn’t stopped. It seemed to be coming from the pain within her heart. Whose blood was this? A sudden panicked thought crossed her mind and she anxiously dialed Sally’s number whilst blocking hers. A soft relief fell across her shoulders upon hearing the sleepy girl’s voice. Hanging up, she sat on the floor near the toilet and threw up. This entire scenario was nauseating. The blood. The blood reminded her of home. Her thoughts kept falling back on Claire Marie. They won’t hurt that little girl the way they hurt her, would they? No. Elizabeth sobbed, trying to convince herself, but it was too much now. She kept herself away for too long and people were dead because of her. The guilt raped her conscience. She had to go back, no matter how much she didn’t want to.

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