OPHELIA: Chapter 26

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.

Leave a comment/ feedback/ thoughts on this chapter for more.

Chapter 26

 

After greeting Victor goodbye, Sebastian headed to his car soaking in the damp moonlit sky. He was somewhat enjoying and amusing himself with his new findings. A petite head leaned against the headrest of the passenger seat. He chuckled, knowing who it was and closed the door as he entered.

“Well well well, if it isn’t my darling wife.”

“Spare me,” Ophelia scoffed.

“Ophelia’s a lovely name. You should have stuck with it.”

“Why are you here, Sebastian?”

“I should be asking you that. Weren’t you supposed to be at a job?”

“I am,” she frowned and noticed that the lawn lights had just been turned on. “Drive. I don’t want to have this conversation in front here right now.”

Her tone somewhat amused him. She wasn’t the well put together woman he had left back in Vermont. A subtleness and vulnerability leaked out of her almost like a plaster trying to stop a wound from feverishly bleeding out. He could have told she hated this softness that befell her. It somehow made her feel weak yet she concealed her fear within her in tight knots hoping it won’t pull apart. Doing as she requested, he drove along the silent empty road before them.

“We all have our reasons why we’re here, love.”

She sighed at his way of speaking to her with its empty meanings.

“Victor’s your father?” He continued in question.

“Something like that,” Ophelia answered then turned to him confused, “You never asked me about my past. Why now?”

“I never asked you about your past because you never wanted me to, so I respected that.”

Respect. Perhaps that was the word? She couldn’t describe the unorthodox manner in which her relationship with Sebastian was based on. “I’m sorry.”

Her apology caught him off guard. “For?”

“How unconventional our relationship is. Or whatever this is.”

“Don’t apologize. We have an understanding. That’s what matters. We support each other without question nor have you questioned my actions or my past, I appreciate that.”

“And if I betray you?”

He turned to her and smiled. A simple smile. A knowing smile. “You won’t.”

Taking the tension away from the topic, she brought up Sebastian’s Vermont house guests. “How’s Christopher and his uncivilized fiancée?”

“They left a while ago.”

“I see,” she murmured and looked out the window, “Stop the car.”

“What?” He voiced, surprised.

“I’ll be getting off here.”

“It’s pitch dark in the middle of God’s knows where.” Sebastian protested. “It’s lonely.”

“It’s perfect,” she insisted, “Don’t question my actions Sebastian. I know someone who lives up the hill. I’m going to visit her.” Ophelia smiled in amusement, “Are you worried about me, Mr. Lockwick?”

Before she opened the car door, he touched the bandage on her forehead and kept his lips in a thin straight line of disapproval. His thumb grazed over her soft cheek and ran over her bottom lip, “You will always be my Elizabeth,” he said leaning in.

Ophelia pulled away with a pained look drenching her features, “Elizabeth isn’t real, Sebastian.”

“She is to me,” he finished and unlocked the car door for her to leave.

Ophelia tried to smile as she left. She looked as the car drove off, leaving her behind. Looking up the grassy hill, she walked along the track to her lie. There was no friend she was visiting. She just wanted to be alone. There used to be an old farmhouse up on the hill just at the edge of the forest. When she was younger, she remembered, she’d leave and spend her time here. Waiting for the sunrise while she sat on the back porch of the house. The sunrise always reminded her of a new hope, that maybe just maybe one day the darkness would go away from within her. It reminded her or mercy or redemption. She would always question, had she not done what she did, would she be more at peace or worse?

The door to the old farmhouse had now been broken off and laying on the floor like a dead old piece of rotting wood. A terrible stench fumed the air. Dust and cobweb hovered above her like swaying birds. The floorboard creaked with every entered step she took. Used condoms pilled in scatters on the floor. It was all disgusting. It had never been like this when she used to come here but then again she reminded herself that was years ago, a different time and a different generation. 

Ophelia turned on her phone’s flashlight and headed to the back porch of the house. Upon opening the door to the porch, she noticed something sparkle on the floor. Loose pink gemstones scattered between the floorboard spaces along with a half-eaten pack of chips-ahoy and an empty bottle of Moscato. She pulled the door open to sit on the porch. The moonlight dimed down upon her like a battery on low. The wind stalled in its sometimes shifts. A thought ran through her mind. She had to choose eventually. She had to give an answer and the truth was that she wasn’t sure of it. Her heart wanted to be with Stefan. Everything in her wanted to be with him. He was the only one that made her feel like herself. He felt like her home. Yet, her fear of losing homes ached within her. Would that be safe? Could she possibly be putting him in danger with that decision? And then there was Sebastian, did she love him? No. She respected him, held gratitude towards him, her silence was safe and understood with him regardless of how dangerous he may have been to others. He was kind to her and offered her a second chance. How could she betray him? How could she be so selfish?

Her thought pounded within her skull. It felt like cracking. The air seemed to thin around her. Her legs ached from the position she was sitting in. Ophelia stood, walking down the slope and along the track in the forest. Just a short quick walk she convinced herself. This always helped her. The time alone always helped. The seconds swiftly turned to minutes and the trail disappeared. She was walking in a straight line anyway, she couldn’t get lost. As she walked, she suddenly stumbled over a gentle hill, grazing her elbow on the coarse grass.

“Fuck,” she mumbled as she sat upright and inhaled a somewhat fowl stench. It was an odd looking, too perfectly placed, hill with dried leaves covering. Her heart suddenly hammered within her and her body somehow knew before her mind could process what was happening. “No,” her voice dried silently as her fingers worked within the dirt. Digging through, she felt as if time slowed and a heavy force pulling her away. The old wind now chilled her pores to stand at attention as her fingers blistered with her aggressive digging until it felt something soft and fleshy beneath. Please God, no. Those words repeated inside her like a prayer begging for mercy until she had been bringing it through her throat through sobs. It was no hill. She dug through the shallow grave to dust the dirt off the little girl’s once beautiful, now decomposing face.

“No. Please, please,” she sobbed, trying to dust the dirt off the child. Her voice ached in sores and her stomach pitted in a nauseating agony. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be Claire-Marie. Not her. This couldn’t be. She tried to convince herself but the girl’s remaining features was already too familiar to her. Her once soft yellow hair now halfway gone, her blue consuming eyes now eaten out by worms, her pink rosy cheeks now devoid of colour. Ophelia threw up from the pungent stench of the dead girl she cradled in her arms as she sobbed tasting the saltiness of her tears seep into her wails.

She grabbed her phone from the dirt and in an endless tremble, scrambled the numbers into the phone, pressing it to her ear. Within the second ring, Stefan’s voice soothed into the call. She couldn’t speak. Her voice numbed. He had been asking where she was, if she was alright, but all that came out was inaudible.

“Ophelia, it’s alright, just please,” worried plagued his tone, “Please tell me where you are.”

“Stef-stef- she’s-” she ached, “I have her. I- I found-” her voice broke before saying her name. “Claire. C-call Charlie- not sheriff- please.”

A sharp deep inhale stung through the call. His heart ached. He knew. He knew that she was no more. He felt himself crumble, guilt filled through him like a wicked poison, he should have been here, but he wasn’t. What kind of a brother was he? What kind of a son was he? Ophelia was breaking down on the other end of the call, she shouldn’t have had to experience this. She’d been through enough trauma.

His silence on the other end of the call ached within her. He was breaking too.

**

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