OPHELIA: Chapter 42

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 42

 

Ophelia’s heart fell to the floor. It was as if hell itself was opening beneath her sucking her into its bottomless pit of shit and misery.

“This is madness!” Florence pulled away and went straight up to the sheriff’s face, “What rubbish are you speaking, Gill?”

He ignored her and walked up to Stefan who stood with a stone like, distasteful expression. Though he was silence, his eyebrows were knitted, and his jaws clenched together.

“I believe this is yours?” The sheriff said while hold out a notepad towards Stefan.

“What is this about?”

“Have you seen this girl?” He pulled out a photo of this young girl and showed it to him. Ophelia recognized the girl as one of Terilla’s friends.

“Yes,” Stefan answered blankly, “She was at the church last night. I gave the notepad to her.”

“Well, there it is,” the sheriff said with a mucus like laugh.

Victor scowled, “And what exactly does that prove?”

“Are you people all idiots? The evidence was found on the dead girl showing he’s the culprit.”

“Oh,” Stefan said quite amused, “So you’re trying to cover up a crime using me, Sheriff?”

His response hadn’t sat well with the Sheriff. Within the same moment he signaled the officers to cuff him.

“No,” Ophelia blurted and stood in front of Stefan, taking a hold of his wrists in each hand. Stefan gave her an assuring look, but she couldn’t believe that. Not in this moment. The fear of losing him too was too much.

“How sweet,” the sheriff mocked and kept his eyes stapled onto Ophelia. Stefan, taking note of that, stood in front of her. “You waste too much time, Sheriff Gill.” Stefan said as he held out his hand, “Go on, put the handcuffs on me, my family has to go back to bed.”

Ophelia almost forgot how snarky Stefan could have been. She was always accustomed to his sweet, and gentle side, but there was this side of him. This deep, aching, protectively assertive side when it came to those who disrespected him and the ones he cared about. He never tolerated disrespect in any way of form, especially when it was directed towards her and Charlie.

Florence suddenly sat on the sofa as if her soul had cracked open and left her body. Rosie went to her side as Elaine frowned at the bottom of the staircase near Sally. As Stefan walked past Ophelia he stopped and leaned forwards to what everyone looks like to kiss her on her cheek but instead he whispered something into her ear, “Faire attention.” Be alert.

She watched as he left the room and Victor followed as well to the station. Her body felt frail. This wasn’t happening. She dropped onto the sofa near Rosie whilst a sudden empty feeling hollowed into her soul.

“T’es une raclure de bidet,” Rosie muttered about the sheriff.

“Every member of this family brings shame upon us,” Diane scowled from her seat.

“You can’t really think that Stefan did it. I’m sure he has an alibi. We all know how Gill is. He’s a man who takes action without proper thinking,” Florence protested.

“It’s you I blame,” Diane iced at her again, “You’re a terrible mother, no wonder he lost his way. Look at yourself, you’re nothing but a sad mess of a woman. My son lowered his standard by marrying you. You came from nothing girl, we made you who you are. I gave you a life. You’re nothing. And, you couldn’t even do one thing right by raising your children to a certain standard, but I can’t expect much from a whor-”

“Enough Diane,” Ophelia stood, upset and disgusted by the manner in which Diane was speaking to Florence. It reminded her and made her understand why Florence maintained her stone-like demeanor. Diane always belittled her. She looked for every possible flaw she could find with her and highlighted them drastically. All this was not something she could have understood as a child growing up into this house, but today she understood. She understood how difficult it must have truly been for Florence to live in the shadow of this family. Florence had always been a bold statement to this family, she wasn’t submissive in the way Rosie was. She was utterly, effortlessly herself and Diane hated her for that. She hated that fearless, emotionless look Florence used to give her. She hated her dark, endless, eternal beauty that never seemed to fade. If Ophelia could admit, Diane actually enjoyed seeing Florence so broken and so vulnerable. And, she was using every opportunity to break her even further. That wasn’t something that sat well with Ophelia. It felt wrong. It was a heartless thing to do, especially at this time. She didn’t like the way Diane was speaking to her. It made her uneasy, annoyed, angry. “That’s enough,” Ophelia repeated.

A vicious looked swept across Diane’s face, “Don’t talk back at me, girl.”

“As long as you don’t use that tone with Florence, then I won’t,” she warned, “Stefan isn’t a killer. He’s been set up to cover someone else’s crime. The faster you understand that then the better for everyone.”

She was about to protest but Rosie quickly stood and interjected before the situation flared. “Let me take you up to your room now, it’s time for your medications.”

Diane scowled as Rosie pulled her gently along. Elaine asked Sally to aide her back up to her room, leaving Florence and Ophelia behind.

“It was stupid of you to speak against Diane,” Florence suddenly said whilst looking at her intently from the sofa where she sat.

“I just didn’t like the way she was speaking,” Ophelia answered honestly. She rarely had conversations with Florence, this seemed like one of the very few. Ophelia was about to walk away when Florence called her back, “Come girl, sit with me.”

The request took Ophelia by surprised. It was out of Florence’s nature. Still, she did as she was told. Ophelia, herself, felt as if her heart was gutted out just moments ago. And now, she was here sitting on the same sofa with Florence who had seemed to want her silence company. Florence poured the alcohol thickly in her glass and brought it to her lips. She shouldn’t be drinking, she was on anti-depressants. Ophelia wondered if she should have opposed her, but she knew no good ever came from opposing Florence.

“You do not think I am a bad mother?” She suddenly asked.

Ophelia thought of her answer in response to the question she was asked. She parted he lips about to speak but decided not to. Instead, she shifted a bit uncomfortably on the sofa.

“Be honest with me girl.”

“Yes,” Ophelia replied honestly, “But you’re not the worst. Not in the way Diane was describing.”

Her scoff suddenly turned into sobs. Ophelia felt startled. She hadn’t meant to make her cry. She should have been more empathic to Florence’s situation. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t meant to-”

“No,” Florence cut her off, “I wanted to hate you because you reminded me of her.”

“Of who?”

“Your mother.”

This piece of information was quite new to Ophelia, she always knew Monty to be the family friend but never thought that Florence would even bother to have any relationship with anyone but her own. “You knew my mother?”

“Yes,” she said in a somewhat pained manner. “You look just like her, you know? You walk like her, you talk like her, your mannerisms…”

“Oh,” was all Ophelia could have said. A tiny part of her felt envy. The way Florence spoke about her mother whilst she had not many memories to remember her. “Did you hate my mother?”

Florence looked at her with broken eyes to reflect her soul, “No,” she whispered, “How could I hate the one person who was nice to me in this wretched town? Monty introduced us. Julia was my friend, she treated me like family when I felt like I had none here. She stayed in this damned town until I could have convinced Victor to leave as well.” She stopped and laughed at herself, “I couldn’t convince Victor because he never truly loved me. Our marriage means nothing but economic status. And after all, my daddy was eager to give away his problem child.”

“If you cared about my mother, if you considered her your friend, then why did you wish to hate me so much?”

“Because when I look at you, when I look at you- I see the one person who cared about me in this shitty town that I couldn’t protect. And I feel guilty for making her stay back. Perhaps if she had left with her family, she’d still be alive. Perhaps, you’d still have your mother today and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Perhaps I’m losing my children one by one as my consequence, my karma.”

Ophelia lowered her eyes, unsure of what to think at that very moment. Perhaps. Perhaps, but that was in the past and Ophelia was trying to look forward. And right now, they needed to find out who killed Claire, they needed to get Stefan out of the clutches of authority within this town, and she needed to find out a truth that’s been hidden for far too long.

**

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