Hindrances

Chapter 8

When I finally did fall asleep, my dreams were only vivid flashbacks. I didn't even realize that I still had all of those memories, but they had finally resurfaced.

Mr Cheswick and his family were over for dinner. They had one child, a girl who was slightly younger than me- I vaguely remember her name being Anna. Before we ate, Anna and I were alone in my room, and she told me all of the things her father had done to her. Anna specifically said, "things would be easier if he was gone. Mommy would be happier too."
I wasn't sure how Mr Cheswick was such a close friend to my father, but I suppose he hid his evil side very well.
"Hey Anna, let's go for a walk."
She followed me into the forest. Anna's eyes went wide when I found hemlock. I knew where it was from past walks, where my parents would point to it and say "don't ever go near that." I didn't want to touch the plant directly, so I ripped a piece of cloth off of a dress that I never wore. I folded the hemlock into the cloth and kept it in my pocket.
Mom asked me to set the table for dinner. I requested if I could choose where everyone sat. Mom laughed and said"of course." I didn't want the wrong person to get the tampered with food. I got little pieces of paper and wrote down names in my messy little girl handwriting. Mom left the dining room, so that's was when I acted. Crushing up the hemlock, I slipped it into Mr Cheswick's soup. It blended in with the rest of the herbs well. I asked Mom to call everyone down.
When everyone was seated, we prayed. A thing we did was go around the table and say what we were thankful for. Anna said "friends that help you." Mr Cheswick said "my family."
I said "health and long lives."
Everyone murmured in agreement, and we started eating.
Anna and I kept a sly eye on her father. He quickly finished the bowl, saying "God Bless your cooking, Mrs Hemmings!" Those were actually his last words. His body started trembling, then convulsing. His breathing sped up and he vomited until he finally went limp. My parents were screaming, and Mrs Cheswick pulled out her husband's chair and helped him lay down on the floor. But it was too late.
Everyone suspected his death was due to natural causes. It's not like anyone would outwardly say he was murdered by a six year old girl (it had been about a year since he assulted me at that point). No one would even suspect his daughter was in on it.
A week later, we were gathered around his grave on that hot August day.

I still couldn't feel bad for what I did. I saved his wife and daughter while getting revenge for myself. Yes, I do hate violence, but there comes a point when people just deserve it.
When I woke up, my back was sore. I didn't remember where I was for a moment, but then I heard Mr Lancaster's heavy footsteps in the bedroom.
The door swung open, revealing his surprisingly disheveled self.

And surprisingly handsome...

Well, damn it! I knew I couldn't deny the fact that Mr Lancaster was good looking!

He is a magnificent kisser too.

And oh, what he did the other night-

Yes, that was pretty good too. I could feel my subconscious roll her eyes at me.
Mr Lancaster made eye contact with me before wordlessly stalking away to the deck, but I wasn't about to let this silent treatment continue. So I followed him up.
"Mr Lancaster?" I said it gently so he wouldn't get angry. Whether he heard me or not, he didn't respond, so I called out to him a bit louder.
"Mr Lancaster!"
Out on the deck, his hands were on the rails as he looked contemplatively out to the ocean. The sun was still rising, casting an orange glow onto him.
"Hm?"
Mr Lancaster didn't look at me. He didn't even give me the satisfaction of getting a monosyllabic answer.
"We need to talk."
"Hm."
I shook my head out of frustration.
"Would you like to speak like you're an adult?"
He hesitated, while his eye contact never broke with the ocean.
"Mhn."
I interpreted that as a no.
Exhaling softly, I calmed myself down.
"Mr Lancaster..." I tried, very softly this time. Something in his jaw twitched. Trying to feel bold, I laid my hand on his cheek and gently urged him to look at me. He hesitated, but he allowed the movement.
"Can we please talk, sir?"
I finally looked into his eyes, seeing too much pain.
Pain? A man like himself feeling pain?
"I-I simply cannot figure out why I am acting this way, Miss Hemmings..."
I rested my other hand on his face as well.
"...ever since that night, you have shied away from me, from my touch... I don't understand why it is bothering me, and I certainly don't understand why I care so much."
Mr Lancaster let go of the railing, facing me head on. His arms hung lifelessly by his side.
"That wasn't your fault, sir-"
"Except it was. I should not have left you unattended. I should not have allowed a strange man to be within 30 feet of you. And I certainly shouldn't have allowed for him to get you alone. I knew that a threat would be there! The notes explicitly stated that!"
"I'm not a child that requires constant attention, Mr Lancaster."
"I know, I know. But this one time..."
The sun rose some more. Gentler shades of pink were being reflected into his eyes from the sky. Being cast into the bright light, I could see that Mr Lancaster slept as well as I did last night.
"Mr Lancaster, you look exhausted."
"I am fine."
"You need sleep-"
"No, Miss Hemmings. You did not even get a bed last night."
"That has nothing to do with you sleeping."
"It does, though. Very much so. Miss Hemmings. I already said it, but here it is again: something inside of me makes me care."
"It is normal to at least consider the other people you're frequently around."
"But this is not like that."
Mr Lancaster slammed his fist on the rail, making me lose hold on his face. He then starting pounding the siding as hard as he could.
I held onto his elbows from behind him, trying to render him powerless. Mr Lancaster could have easily broken away from me, as I am much weaker than him, but he didn't.
"Mr Lancaster, stop it!"
He was breathing wildly and shaking heavily, but he was still struggling against me.
"Damien!"
That did it. He froze and he let his hands unclench since they were forming fists.
"Hurting yourself won't make anything better..." I tried to reason.
Mr Lancaster sighed, obviously frustrated.
"I don't do this to make myself feel better! It is just what I deserve!" Mr Lancaster's voice crescendoed from the normal conversation volume to a shout. He said it all in a way that sounded like he was really saying "duh! Why else would I do this?"
I was shocked, but I didn't show it. I had never noticed any of his self destructive tendencies. Now I could think back to all the times I thought he was insane and think about those moments in a different light.
He thought he deserved it all– the isolation, the lack of sleep, the working to death.
I took his hands in mine and lead him under the deck to our room. Mr Lancaster straggled slightly behind, giving me the lead. I took off his top coat and cravat. He tried protesting, but I pressed my finger against his lips. I undid a few buttons on his shirt and pointed to the bed. Mr Lancaster looked confused, but he laid down. I pulled the blankets over him and tucked it up to his chin.
"I am not a child, Miss Hemmings, I do not need you to do this."
"Someone needs to take care of you, especially since you haven't done so in at least ten years."
"Because I have not been a child in ten years."
I sat down on the bed next to him.
"Mr Lancaster-"
He slid his hands out from under the covers and held my hand.
"You could call me Damien once in a while, if you would like to?"
This was the first time he was really  opening up to me. He wasn't drunk and he wasn't lying to me about dreaming. This was as genuine as it could ever get.
I pressed a kiss against the back of his hand as I murmured "Damien" with a playful smirk.
Something in his features relaxed. Mr Lancaster looked more laid back and he almost had a complete smile.
"I care about you, Damien. I don't want to see you hurt yourself."

You finally said it out loud!

Mr Lancaster practically said the same thing to me earlier.

Yes, but you have hardly admitted it to yourself that you care for him! Remember the "I only think he's attractive" line? What happened to that?

Okay, so some things have changed rapidly, but it's not like we're lovers or anything like that.

But what if...?

That was the third voice in my head making it's surprise appearance. I think it's more of a devil than my other, more logical voice.
My logical voice wouldn't have even suggested that the possibility of Mr Lancaster and I... Together... Being romantic...

"Romantic" probably isn't in Mr Lancaster's dictionary!

"I... Am not always as controlled as I may seem to be," he finally admitted. Pressing my hands (while still holding his) against my heart, I gasped, "You might be a human!" in mock shock.
"Miss Hemmings, you do not need to be so boisterous."
Mr Lancaster needed a nice, quiet, low stimulus environment at the moment.
I stood up, letting go of his hands.
"I will check up on you in one hour, to make sure you're resting– not working! You only need to lay there. Or, hell, maybe even sleep!"
I swiftly crossed the room until-
"Amelia? Can I call you that?"
I stopped dead in my tracks.
"Yes."
That wasn't my voice! My voice isn't that soft or that feminine or even delicate!
"Please stay, Amelia."
I turned around. Mr Lancaster looked so lonely. He reminded me of a rejected puppy...
Damn him, I can't reject puppies!
Pulling a chair up next to the bed, I sat down near him.
"No, not like that," he began as he flipped up the blankets, beaconing me to join him, "over here."
I did not bother to get fully dressed today, so I only had my chemise, petticoats, and dress on. That being said, I didn't have to remove any giant metal hoops or anything else like that.
But I did take the dress off. It got a little suffocating once in a while.
The fabric fell to the floor with a whisper and a dull thud. I could tell Mr Lancaster was watching my every move, but I didn't feel self conscious since I wouldn't be fully naked in front of him. Sure, more skin was showing than normal, but there was nothing inherently sexual about it. I wasn't attractive enough to cause a sexual tension with just some bare arms and some legs.
I laid down in the bed next to Mr Lancaster, with my back pressed against his front. His arms wrapped tightly around me as I felt him bury his face against my neck and in my hair.
"You are spoiling me," he whispered against my ear. Mr Lancaster's warm breath stirred my hair, tickling me.
"What do you mean?" I almost added a 'sir' out of habit, but I held that back. Especially since he wanted me to call him Damien once in a while.
"One of the reasons I could not sleep last night was because I have gotten used to you sleeping beside me. It felt wrong without you."
"The feeling is mutual, Damien."
His name still felt weird to say, but it was something that I wanted to get used to.