Black Rose

Let slip.

Blake smiled and followed Jackson through, and I tried to ignore the churning in my gut. Jackson showed Blake around the track we had made, and demonstrated how it worked, particularly gushing over the bridge we had made, suspended in the air. Blake acted a perfect father figure, gasping in the right places, congratulating Jackson on his creation, smiling across at me every so often.

I hated that he was such a good dad when he was such a shitty person.

After Jackson had finished his grand tour, Blake picked up a train and started moving it around the track. "All aboard!" He called grinning at Jackson.

Jackson's face lit up, and he excitedly grabbed one of the little wooden people that came with the set and put it inside the train. He then looked up at me. "Lia, are you going to play too?"

I couldn't help but smile and moved to go sit down with them, but before I could, Blake cleared his throat.

"I think Lia needs to go get started on dinner." He said, glancing at me with a smug look. "I'm rather hungry. Maybe she could cook chicken, hey?"

"Chicken!" Jackson said excitedly. "I love chicken!"

Blake grinned and looked up at me. I avoided his gaze, my eyes stinging. He watched me for another moment before clearing his throat.

"Alright then, that chook won't cook itself. Get to it, my rose." He said.

I nodded and silently left the room, shutting the door behind me.

When I was on my own, I let the tears slip out, not fully sure why I was even crying. After a few moments, I forced myself to stop crying and do what Blake told me to, the dutiful housewife.

I found chicken breasts in the fridge, along with bounds of fresh fruit and veg, and plenty of sauces and dressings. After a while trying to figure out what to do, I finally decided to cook some lemon and herb chicken my mum used to make. I got through it pretty quickly, and within ten minutes, I had the chicken grilling in a pan.

It was then that Blake came out of Jackson's room, but Jackson didn't follow. He smiled at me as he walked across to the counter. "What's cooking, good looking?"

I pursed my lips, not wanting to give in to his attempts at charm.

His smile faltered. "What? What's wrong?"

"Why were you so rude to me in there? In front of Jackson?" I asked in a low voice, as I grabbed a tea towel and wiped chicken grease from my hands.

He laughed. "Why, you worried what he thinks of you?"

I frowned at him, clenching the teatowel in my fist. "Yes."

He rolled his eyes. "He's two, Rose. It doesn't matter what he thinks of you."

"Four, actually," I said quietly.

He paused, watching me for a second. Then he asked quizzingly, "What are you trying to gain here, Rose? What do you want?"

I looked down, focusing on the teatowel, ringing it between my hands. "I don't know."

He scoffed. "No, I think you do. Tell me, my Rose. What do you want?"

"I-" I hesitated, looking up at him again. He was looking at me with curious interest. I swallowed my hesitation and spoke, trying to sound stronger than I felt. "I want to protect him."

Blake scoffed at me. "Need I remind you, Rose, he's not your son."

"Yeah, and he's not yours either." I spat out. He went still, silent, glaring at me. I knew then that I had crossed a line, but yet I couldn't quell the anger burning within me. I wasn't about to back down.