Breaking Glass

(14) Things Change

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Chapter fourteen

"No... No..." I whispered.

"It is the only logical explanation, Rose," Lydia responded.

"But we used protection!" I yelled and then clamped a hand over my mouth - it wasn't smart to be talking about such subjects so loudly in the house of my father. Wait... Did we? I wasn't so sure as to what happened that night. Or day. Whichever it was. Aiden should remember, but it's not as if I could ask him.

"Oh yes, I'm sure swine entrails are quite the protection," Lydia remarked sarcastically, earning a scowl from me. Yes, I had been very easy on her lately, but that is because we had gotten so much closer. No need to step over the line.

"To be honest, I don't remember if we did," I said.

"Well, my dear, why don't you ask him?" Lydia asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Lydia! I cannot speak of such atrocities with him! Especially not after what I did!" I exclaimed, clenching my jaw.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because... because I - I told him that it would be best if we didn't see each other anymore," I stuttered.

"Why did you do that!" Lydia shouted, grabbing my hand.

"I - I was... Am scared," I mumbled.

"Of what?" she asked.

"Oh getting hurt," I replied with a frown. I felt my lip quivering a small amount.

"Oh, Rose, my sweet Rose. Don't you see?" Lydia wrapped her arms around me and began to rock back and forth.

"What do I need to see?" I asked.

"Being so callous to people is not protecting you from them! You're only exposing yourself to yourself! Which hurts you more when you are lonely," she explained.

"I'm not lonely," I muttered.

"Oh yes you are. Look at yourself. You are the most beautiful woman in all of Britain. Maybe even the world. People want to love you. But you don't want to let them." She stopped rocking me and turned my face so I could look at her.

"People don't want to love who I am. They want to love what I look like," I said, my breath hitching as I was really trying to fight back tears.

"They would be able to love who you are if you gave them a reason to," Lydia said.

"But then I feel like I wouldn't be myself!"

"Who you are now is not who you really are."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"This... Façade of yours. So sour, so mean, so bitter. It is not who you are," she said.

"Yes it is," I muttered dryly.

"Rose, you may not know this, but I am trained in the ways of the mind. The Americans call it psychology. I know-"

"You are from America?" I asked, stunned.

"No, no, my dear. I am from Wales," Lydia replied.

"Then why did you use the Americas as an example for something?"

"Here where we live, the profession I am trained in is not a profession. It is rather a hobby, or pastime. But in the Americas, it is something people of high valor pay to receive," she said.