𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝕭𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘 ⤞ 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡

5 | 𝐎𝐡, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞?

       Tex's dark, heavily emotional eyes were glued to the angry colored "scratches" that adorned her sun-kissed skin. With a sad smile, he pressed his pink lips to the marks, soothing the stinging sensation almost instantly, "If you stop, I'll stop. Deal?"

       Tossing her worn t-shirt to the tile floor, Penelope pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, trying to ease the pressure building in her cranium. The mere thoughts, or memories, of that beautiful boy made her head spin, and not in the ways it used to. Her heart didn't pound when a faint image sprayed itself behind her eyes, and her stomach didn't fill with butterflies. Instead, her chest filled with an ache so terrible, it left her completely breathless, and the muscles of her stomach would spasm, making it seem like her insides were ripping at the seams.

       Tex LaMontange's untimely death didn't simply break her heart; it destroyed her will to live. Every morning that she awoken, a dreadful feeling settled in the pit of her gut, knowing that she had lived to see another lonely, dreary day. Her friends tried their best, and yet, their attempts couldn't have been more futile. There wasn't a thing a living person could do to stop her dreadful course. Penelope would implode on herself if she continued on the derailed path she was taking, and she didn't give a single fuck about the consequences.

       With a tearful sigh, she continued to undress herself, taking off all articles of clothing that clung to her, including the rings that gripped onto her knuckles and the chain that rested against her collar bone. The steam emitting from the scolding water welcomed Penelope into its suffocating embrace. She eagerly closed herself in with the sticky atmosphere, and slowly slid down beneath the water, enjoying the silence that followed her descent.

THE FIDGETY BODY BELONGING TO THE LAUNDRESS OF THE HOTEL APPEARED IN THE MIDDLE OF ROOM 64.

       Go into her room, and retrieve that damned necklace, Mr. March's diabolical tone rung throughout his minion's head. Do not return without obtaining it. Understand?

       Ms. Evers', already and continuously, scattered brain became even more detached at the odd request. Why on Earth would he need such a flimsy article of jewelry? She hadn't the slightest clue, but as she stood in the shadows of the room, Ms. Evers caught a glimpse of the true beauty that was Penelope O'Hare. With her long legs and flawless face, Penelope was a sight that could make the strongest of men weep for her attention. There was no mistaking the plans her employer had for the beautiful girl. But, the murderous and villainous man Ms. Evers had come to adore wasn't known for taking interest in anything other than his former wife.

       In fact, for most of her employment at the Hotel Cortez, Mr. March had been utterly obsessed with the woman known as The Countess, even after she'd turned him in to the authorities for his "uncivilized" extra circulars. That vile excuse of a woman had occupied so much of Mr. March's brilliant brain that it nearly made the laundress weep from seeing the man she harbored such powerful emotions for suffer in such a way.

       Perhaps, the reason behind his unusual behavior, and interest, in the peculiar guest was that he seemed for a companion, someone to share his crowned achievements with. Of course, the laundress would've been more than willing to spread herself out for that beautiful man, but whatever James Patrick March wanted, he very well got, and he yearned for that damaged brunette. And he would get her, no matter the cost, no matter the consequences.

       Ms. Evers swallowed the unpleasant lump in her throat, and cautiously took a few steps forward. The red headed woman was ready to vanish if the bathroom door was abruptly opened, but she prayed that Miss O'Hare enjoyed extensive bathing sessions. For if she did not, the necklace would have to be left behind, and Mr. March would not favor the absence of it in his hands. An uneasy feeling settled in her unused gut as she approached the bedside table, which happened to be near the adjoined washroom. Reaching out, Ms. Evers silently picked up the silver chain from its resting place, being certain to leave everything else untouched, leaving no evidence of her appearance, before slipping it into the pocket of her apron.

       The air in the room shifted as she vanished, but Penelope was too consumed by her own demented thoughts to notice, and continued to simmer in the tub. Ms. Evers reappeared on the other side of the hotel room's door, and was met by a smoldering look given by, none other than, Mr. March. As always, he was dressed as if he'd stepped through some sort of mystical portal, "Did you retrieve it?"

       "Yes, sir," Was the quiet reply, and Ms. Evers' fingers presented the article of jewelry without a moment's hesitation.

       The metal was chilled as it met the skin of his palm with a soft clink, and a pleased sound flooded his throat, "Very good, Ms. Evers. Now, every little piece will fall precisely into place."

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