Innocence || Paused

chapter thirty-two

| Sylvia |

They weren't home.

"You've GOT to be kidding me!" I screamed, punching the door with so much force I heard a sudden crack as the wood started to splinter.

Now not only was everyone either missing or acting absolutely insane, but I was on my own in the middle of a city of people who would kill me if they had the chance. What was I thinking?

What was happening?

I had searched every room of the house, and while nothing was out of place an eerie cloud seemed to linger around me as I found nothing but silence.

I was finally entering the main hallway again when everything went black.

* * *
TW : Sexual assault
Skip to the next set of stars if you wish to avoid
There are no strong details, only how she feels.

I woke up to lips on me.

Poisonous lips, dripping with acid as they forced themselves against my own.

I'll never forget them.

I'll never forget what you decided to do to me.

Saying I was yours.

That I had somehow ruined myself by letting Ambrose touch me.

How could you say that with a straight face? Ambrose, if anything, was helping me to find myself. You had just forced me to lose myself along the way.

What truly ruined me was you, not him.

How could you not see that?

When you left me I allowed myself to cry for the first time in...what I could only describe as a very long time. The tears had fallen freely, streaking down my face as I screamed out, calling for someone I knew could not possibly hear me.

For he was dead.

***

He was dead.

"Why are you screaming Ambrose's name out?" Xavier smirked, staring down at me with his horrible eyes as soon as I woke up. I'm sure he wanted to feel like he was saving me. He always wanted to be the savior of all.

What a terrible superiority complex.

"He isn't dead." I whispered, my throat raw screaming out by now, each word dragging its jagged nails down the inside of my throat.

Chains tied me down, forcing me to stay inside of the dark room. I wasn't sure where I was, but I knew that a considerable amount of time had passed. The sun had set on the heavy sky, and I could hear music flowing from the window outside.

Hung up on the closet door on the other side of the room was my golden dress.

"If he isn't dead, how could you possibly be my date to the ball tonight, my dear?" Xavier brushed the back of his hand down the side of my face, leaning forward as he kissed my forehead. "I'm going to unlock your chains so you can get ready for tonight, love. We're already incredibly late." He did just as he said, letting them fall to the ground with a heavy clank. "I have someone outside, so don't try anything funny."

His logic was so flawed; all he had to do was steal a stupid golden dress and claim that he had killed both of the twins.

So why did I have a heavy pit at the bottom of my stomach as if I knew something terrible had happened?

Maybe that feeling had nothing to do with the tall man with the deep-set eyes. Maybe instead the feeling stemmed from the betrayal of the last piece of my life left from the other side of the wall. Maybe, just maybe, I was actually upset that my friend wasn't truly my friend.

I was alone now, and the chains were off of my wrist, yet I still felt trapped within these walls. There were bars on the windows, making this room seem more like a prison cell than anything else. I let my fingers linger against the cool metal bars for just a moment, allowing my eyes to close as I pictured how happy I was only one day earlier.

I didn't like to believe that my happiness depended on another person, but hadn't my life improved drastically since I had met Westley? Hadn't I started laughing more since I had met him, and his brother...oh his brother. My Ambrose.

Hadn't I felt emotions I hadn't thought to be possible before due to that man?

Hadn't he made me think more than I ever had to before? He had forced me to open my mind up to a world of possibilities.

Only a day before my heart had been torn between two people, and now...now it was torn for completely different reasons.

I slid the golden dress over my bare body, allowing its smooth fabric to stick to each curve that had begun to develop now that I had access to a steady diet of filling food. My hair fell down my back in gentle waves.

I couldn't be bothered to do anything to it.

What was the point?

He had set up a vanity of makeup on the only piece of furniture in the room besides the bed and the closet wardrobe. He wanted me to look beautiful.

Was I not already?

I didn't bother with more than a gentle dusty lip and a black line across my eyelid of the gel that Livia had called eyeliner. What a fitting name. They truly had far more materials in this higher quality of life.

I took back what I said to Westley the other night on the walk.

I wish I had never climbed over that wall.

I wish I had let myself die.