Panem Et Circenses

Twenty Four.

Twenty Four.

Bernard sighed and sat down at the desk. He seemed to turn away from me and I could only imagine what could possibly be going through his head. I so desperately wanted to start a fire in the fireplace, but I had never been taught how to. It wasn’t a job for me. In the silence, I began thinking of my family. I didn’t quite want to because every time I did, I only hated Bernard more. I needed Alexander at that moment. He would know exactly what to tell me. In a way, he was almost like my older brother. I yawned and sat deeper into the couch. It was strange, I was almost never tired and yet all I wanted to do at that moment was sleep.

“Why does everything have to be so messed up?” Bernard suddenly asked me. I didn’t quite know what he was getting at, so I just gave him an odd look. “I mean everything. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for the people that were born into being witches or fae people or anything.”

“You know, I liked it better when you didn’t talk to me,” I coldly said before realizing how mean my words actually were. He looked over to me with a raised eyebrow.

“Really now? First you want me to talk more, and now you don’t? Make up your damn mind. Why do you always have to be in the exact places I am going to? I show up somewhere and you're there. Mind your own damn business while you're at it!” He irritably said back to me.

“I don’t mean to be, for your information. Not that it matters to you either way. At the end of the day you'll still be that uncaring and heartless person who killed my family. I can't wait until this whole blasics thing is over with, so things can return to normal.”

He slammed the bottle down on the desk causing me to flinch. “The only thing I regret about killing your family is being stuck with you.” he stated, to my shock. “If you hadn’t noticed, these past months I’ve tried to be as nice as I possibly could to you. If you don’t want me being nice to you then so be it, I could care less. I don’t think it's me who is the heartless one, I think it's you, Josephine.”

“Maybe to you I am because that is how you treated me for so long. Ever think of that?”

He shook his head and took a drink from the bottle. “I apologized, Josephine. What more could you possibly want? There isn’t much I can do.” I noticed his words were becoming slightly slurred in a way. “That one time, that one time I saw you when we were at Jack's estate and I wasn’t drunk, I really got a chance to look at you. I kept thinking how stupid I must have been. Even though I didn’t tell you, I made it a point to try being nicer to you.”

“Why?”

“You know what? Just forget I said anything. I have more important things to worry about than you.”

With that last statement, he stood up and took the bottle and a newspaper with him up the stairs. I debated whether or not I should have called something out to him, but decided against it as he seemed pretty annoyed with me at that moment. As much as I tried to will myself to not care, I really did. It made me angry with myself and with him for being nice to me. In a way, this reminded me of my relationship with Timothy. True, it had been a long time ago but the same thoughts went through my head back then. I didn’t understand why things had to be so complicated, but they were. I knew that if I tried talking to Bernard about it, he would just yell at me. He was drunk anyways, his opinion didn’t matter. I could wait for Alexander to return, but his answer would be something along the lines of 'I think you did the wrong thing this time'.

I took an unneeded breath and shrugged off his jacket, going for mine instead. As quietly as I possibly could, I I started up the stairs. The door to the office was cracked open and I could smell cigarette smoke coming through. The other room, the bedroom, was wide open. I silently cursed in my head before catching myself. That wasn’t something any lady should think. I sighed and pushed the office door open. Bernard immediately looked over at me with a glare, half a cigarette in his hand.