OPHELIA: Chapter 46
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 46
A sudden sinking feeling fell over her. The call suddenly disconnected, there wasn’t even a signal to get onto him again. Her feet felt like ice attached to the floorboard. A silence washed over her. She felt nauseated, sick, uneasy. Eyes were staring at the nape of her neck.
Slowly, she turned. Sally stood there, four feet away, with a gun aimed to Ophelia’s face.
“You b*tch,” Ophelia breathed.
“I’ve been called worse.”
“Why?”
“You know why, Lily pie.”
“You’re one of them, in that Cult.”
Sally laughed, “Something like that, but my agenda is a little more personal.”
Ophelia took a few steps back as Sally stalked towards her, “I don’t understand.”
“You just love killing people’s brother’s, don’t you? Like you did with Jame Lockwick and Dean. You think people don’t know what you did? We all know and yet you come back in this town and roam around freely. It doesn’t settle well with us.”
“I don’t know a Dean.”
“Oh please, you stuffed a dead man’s finger into his mouth. Don’t play dumb with me as if you don’t remember.”
Ophelia scowled, and anger ignited with her, “That dead man as you would call him, was killed by your people and he has a name, his name is Monty. And secondly, if you truly must know, it was Sebastian who killed your brother.”
“No!” She shouted, “You can’t manipulate me, you’re a liar like they say. You’re a psychotic liar!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You act so dumb. You know, that Stefan isn’t as stupid as I thought he was. He was so suspicious of me when I came to the house. I had a feeling he knew, his eyes were challenging, I like a challenge. Who knows, maybe I might take a little bite of that Pierre-Louis you so much adore. He should have told you his suspicions,” she laughed, “I can’t imagine how guilty he’d feel when you’re dead and he realizes he should have told you, but don’t worry, I’ll comfort.”
“You talk more sh*t that I thought you did the first time I met you.”
“Oh, I struck a nerve, have I?”
Ophelia scoffed at the pathetic woman before her, “You’re not even his type.”
“Oh Lily, doesn’t seem like you’re anyone’s type. Even Christopher didn’t want you. Oh right, you don’t know,” she chuckled waving the gun silly above her head, “You know, he was incredibly pissed when you killed his lover Dean. He wanted to kill you right then and there but we had to control him and devise a plan.”
“Well congratulations,” Ophelia applauded her dryly.
“Poor Frank though, I had to get rid of him, he was a new recruit, and you know how new member are. Too much work if you ask me.”
“And what about the baby?”
“Oh,” she laughed, “That’s Dean’s. My brother’s.”
Ophelia frowned.
“You’re so judgmental!” Sally stomped her foot at the ground like a child, “It’s what Father Greywood wanted, a blessed child.”
“You’re all mad.”
Sally clicked the gun, threatening her finger on the trigger.
“You won’t kill me,” Ophelia said, “I’m worth much more to them alive than I am dead.”
“You’re right,” she said lowering the gun, “But he might.”
Her face melted into a wicked smirk as she turned to the side where someone’s footsteps were now heard entering. The smell of coffee and cheap cologne tangled through the air. A smell she knew all too well. A smell that made her sick to the bone as she remembered the person who wore it. Christopher Cane grinned as he came into view.
“My,” he said with a plastered expression on his face, “You look quite nervous. Are you surprised to see me?”
Ophelia frowned as her movement’s remained cautious, “I expect nothing less from you, Cane. A snake doesn’t turn into a puppy. You were always deceitful.”
“You see, that’s the problem with you,” he chuckled as he neared her and pulled out his gun. He pressed it against the side of her neck threateningly, “You have this pretty face, but boy when you talk, you say all the wrong things.”
“Christopher!” Sally suddenly warned, “You know we can’t kill her! It’s not our call, those instructions were specific! You can’t just-” He suddenly swung in a full force hitting the gun against her face where she staggered back and fell to the ground in a groan.
“Nag, nag, nag,” he mocked and turned back to Ophelia, “It’s all she ever does. Isn’t the place much more peaceful now?”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, I do. And when I’m done with you, then there’ll be nothing left.” He gripped a handful of her hair and tightened his hold on it. “Killing Dean was your mistake because I’m not forgiving.”
Pain trickled through her head, “I didn’t kill Dean.”
“Liar,” he tugged her hair harder causing her to yelp a little.
“I- didn’t- I didn’t kill him. Cane-”
“He was my friend.” He suddenly threw her to the floor with a force. Her head hit the grated wall but she tried to sit steady. He kept the gun’s aim on her.
“He was your lover,” she said softly.
“What? What the fk did you say?” He yelled in frustration, clearly not liking her use of words.
“You’re gay. You were always gay, weren’t you?”
“Fking b*tch if I ever hear you-”
Ophelia spoke carefully and softly towards him, “There’s nothing wrong with it. There’s nothing wrong loving him.”
“Shut up!”
“It all makes sense now- why you felt uncomfortable with me- I wouldn’t have judged you, Christopher.” She kept her tone gentle and stood with her hands slightly up.
“I’m not gay!”
“Don’t deny it. You have to accept it. You have to accept who you are, who you love,” she continued trying to buy herself time to reach for the old lamp behind her, “It’s okay to like men.”
He neared her, lowering the gun. This was her chance. She swung her hand with a vigor. The old broken lamp smashed against the side of his head as he staggered back. His gun slipped out of his hand. She was about to run towards it but he kicked it aside. It wouldn’t have made sense. Instead, she bolted out of the room. Her feet ached as she ran down the flight of stairs. It was as if she was walking on pins while bare feet. It was as if the time itself was slowing on her, as if it wasn’t even on her side. His footsteps thudded mercilessly behind her. A trail of vengeance.
Sally had her car keys. She couldn’t even make use of the car. It now made sense why Sally was so insistent on driving. She just wanted to keep the keys. Ophelia had no choice but to run. If she ran down the roadway which she came then Cane would have a clear shot at her. Her brain was working fast. Thinking of an idea. She had to run the opposite direction. There was an old farm there. Through the cornfield. Someone could have helped her. There at least had to be a phone. She mentally kicked herself for dropping hers. She hadn’t even realized when she did.
Her bones ached within her as she ran towards the old dirt track with corn field on either side. She processed all this information that she learnt all at once. God. What happened to Charlie? God, keep him safe.
Christopher shot from behind but missed. Ophelia dashed into the field for cover and ran forward. The prickles of the leaves all sliced against her tender skin. The sun peeked through the tall grass as she ran. Her soles were sore, and her breaths were jagged. She didn’t want to die. Not today at least.
Fear and rage pierced her insides. It was eating within the walls of her soul. There was so much hate and resentment that Christopher held towards her, his eyes were almost soulless. She stumbled and fell but picked herself up. Her elbows were grazed badly. Ophelia knew she had to keep moving. Heavy shuffling of the tall grass was heard swiftly on her trail. No matter what, she had to survive. And old wooden farmhouse soon came into view.
“Elizabeth!” Cane screamed in a loud laughter, “I see you, b*tch!”
She bolted towards the house and pushed open the front door. She shut it back and pulled the large table behind it. Her breaths staggered back as she did. No one seemed to be home. She reached for the telephone. Out of order. Ophelia slammed it back down. Frustration was wickedly sipping her blood like wine. The house was small and quaint. She looked around quickly for anything she could have used. There was no gun nor shotgun in the single bedroom stand. Instead, she grabbed a knife and held it firmly with her as Cane banged against the front door.
His rage gave him the strength to push open the door. He was a monster she thought. He always was. There was a time Ophelia thought him to be a gentleman. Almost prince like. And now, now he stood before her with venom laced in his saliva. His wicked words and wicked ways laughed at her. She mentally scolded herself. He played her so well. He played everyone so fking well. She never realized how dangerous he was. He was the kind of person who was utterly, sickly charismatic, yet there was nothing genuine about him for it was all a front. A façade. No one would suspect the ‘nice guy’, the guy who buys you flowers on your first date, who opens doors for everyone, who tidies the table before leaving a restaurant. The one who is ‘easy-going’, and ‘polite’, and ‘sweet’. Hell, he could have killed her right now and walked out the door with everyone still thinking him to be the person he pretends to be. Ophelia knew better, he was nothing but a manipulative bastard. He had used her once, hurt her, insulted her, tried to ruin her, he had his people helping him. He wasn’t just a narcissist. He was just a cu*t. And that- was the biggest truth of Christopher Cane.
He had a clear shot of her. He could have taken it. Instead, he chuckled and tucked the gun into his pocket, “Alright, let’s play a game.”
She scowled, “You’ve played enough games with me.” Her blood was boiling. She wanted to take the knife and slice those big ears off. He would have probably looked better without them.
“Thank God Sebastian decided to take you off my hands.”
“In all honestly Cane, I’d rather be killed by Sebastian than you.”
“Yeah well, too bad.”
“You didn’t hate me because I said all the wrong things,” she said suddenly, “You hated me because I spoke the truth. I spoke the truth about you, against you. I spoke out against you and you had no control over that. You hated me because I never allowed you to walk over me. I stood up for myself and you couldn’t manipulate me anymore.”
He clenched his teeth tightly, “You were obsessed with me.”
“You couldn’t control me anymore,” she corrected, “You wanted me to be in love with you, to keep hurting over you, but I wasn’t. I stopped loving you the moment you started disrespecting me. And you couldn’t bear the thought of my attention slipping away from you.”
“You’re talking sh*t. Don’t you see, Elizabeth? You’re crazy. Obsessive. A psycho.”
“No,” she smiled in a soft breath. There was a time when those words would pain her but now there was a peace that swam within her blood and danced against her ivory bones, “I’m not. I never was.” His words had no more effect on her. She was finally free.
He lunged towards her in a sudden bolt, faster than a bullet even could, throwing her back against the wooden floor. He squeezed her wrist together, keeping the knife away and pressing his torso to keep her stapled to the floor.
“You’re nothing but a pathetic, selfish, coward,” she grunted trying to kick him away.
He chuckled, “You see that knife there, I’m going to take it and fk you with it and I’m going to enjoy your cries.”
“You sick bastard.”
Anger pinched through her skin. In a blunt moment, she spat on him, causing him to loosen his grip on her. She had had enough of this. Enough of him. She slashed the knife away and across his face, causing him to stagger back.
“Fk!”
She tried to crawl away but he pulled her leg back, dragging her by the stomach back to him. “Get off me!” She struggled and kicked him across the face.
Ophelia found her balance and pushed herself out of the back door, running towards the barn ahead. The smell of shit moistened the thick air. The wood was old and soaked with the heavy rainwater. Blackened moss was gathered at the corners. It was a dampened epitome of hay and shit puree. There were very few animals in the barn. Two cows mooed lazily, a few chickens and three pigs at the far back pen. At the far-right corner, near the cow, was a shotgun. She quickly went towards it, grabbed it, and hid behind a large haystack.
Christopher’s grainy voice called out to her as he entered the barn.
“Elizabeth,” he called in a singsong voice, “Come out here pretty-pretty-pretty.”
She tried to still her heavy breaths so he wouldn’t hear her.
“Oh, Elizabeth,” he sang again, “Where are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m not your sweetheart,” she iced, and made herself visible. With the shotgun in hand, she aimed it towards him as he moved back. She didn’t want to shoot him. She didn’t want to kill him, but if it led to that she’d be left with no choice.
“Oh, once a murderer always a murderer, eh?”
“You like playing the victim, don’t you, Chris?” she scoffed with an ironic smile, “This is what it looks like by the way.”
He scowled as she aimed at his head.
“You’ve hurt enough girls,” she said as she walked towards him and remained a few feet away.
She pulled the trigger.
It was empty.
Christopher grinned. “I always knew you to be stupid.” He suddenly lunged towards her when she stuck out the knife between them.
His stomach pierced into it as he placed his hands around her neck. As the wound penetrated deeper inside of him, he released his hold on her and staggered back. Ophelia knew the gun was empty. And she knew she had to think of another way. The look on his face was pure hate and scorn. He was confused as he bled from the stomach. His stance wobbled as he walked backwards and fell over the ledge where the pigs were. He could have pulled out his gun and shot her but he didn’t. He lunged at her, and that was purely luck. He never wanted to kill her with a bullet, he wanted to make her slowly suffer before sparing her the mercy of a bullet through the head.
Ophelia looked at the scene before her. There Christopher was, lying face flat in piles and piles of shit, right where he belonged. She stood there for a silent moment and pondered what his last thought must have been. Had it been with her? With his family? Had it been with Dean’s c0ck stuffed into his mouth? She wanted to feel sorry for him, she wanted to feel guilty, she wanted to feel something, but just as her feeling for him died when he disrespected her- when he used her- when he abused her, there she was left to feel an empty nothingness for the body before her. She found it somewhat sinfully amusing how the boy who once made her life hell and used to play the victim was now actually the victim to his own sins. And just like his soul left his body, a weight was simultaneously lifted off her shoulders. He could hurt her no more. She looked down one last time at Christopher, yet all she could see was nothing but pig’s shit.
His chapter with her was finally over.
**
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