Butterflies. So many butterflies. Blue. Orange. Yellow. Green. None that I know the names of, but all of which are as different as the next. Stepping inside is like stepping into the world of Alice in Wonderland. Otherworldly. Mushroom stools, a colorful rocking chair, a caterpillar shaped bookcase, an assortment of toys placed meticulously around the room, and butterfly painted letters hanging from the wall, spelling EZEKIEL. These are the details I find behind the forbidden door in Roman Berkshire's bachelor pad. From all the baby photos hanging on the walls, this room feels like it's somewhere between a baby room and a shrine.
From all the possible things this room could have been, this was not what I expected. I'm staring at the large block letters and those baby photos, taking in the child's room around me, while Roman shares his story from the doorway. This is one of those stories that you read in horror books or watch in those thriller movies. Definitely not something that I would hear back in Maywood. Those horror stories just didn't happen back in our small town. But this, this is real to Roman. These events are common in his dangerous world. No one bats an eyelash. Another Tuesday.
He tells the story with a voice as cold as ice. Much similar to how I imagine Amelia must have spoken on a regular basis. I quickly realize it's a disguise to make himself seem stronger than he actually feels telling this story. That ice cracks a bit as he describes the state he found his son in. His voice wavers, telling me that he's doing everything in his power not to be swallowed by the emotion that must be flowing in while he shares this part of his life with me. Thankful that I have my back turned to him, I allow quiet tears to slide down my cheeks. One after the other. Looking at the photos of the smiling and giggling boy, it's hard to imagine the same one described in Roman's story. It's not until the end of the story that he hesitates for so long that I'm tempted to turn around. But before I can, he begins the ending. By the way his words shake, at the very least, I know he isn't proud of his behavior. It doesn't make it any easier to hear nor imagine, but it makes it easier to know that he's human. Because if anyone else had heard this story, they would think otherwise.
My hand flies to my mouth to silence any sounds that might escape as I listen to him describe the way he killed his wife. Killed the woman who took his child's life. It's violent. Ruthless. Terrifying. There's not many times that I think about how it would feel to be a judge. I also never thought about it enough to be thankful not to be one. With a story like this one, how can someone really believe the world is so simple as black and white? At one point in time, I was one of those people. Everything was either good or bad. Meeting Roman has changed everything. The world is gray. Nothing is simple. Especially the man standing behind me. An eerie stillness descends over the room, preoccupying the space between us. The ball is in my court. Either I walk away from this mess or I give him the benefit of the doubt.
Do I believe him completely? Sure, he's lied about plenty since we've met. But for once, all the pieces are falling in place and it's all making sense. James didn't lie. Roman did kill his wife. Just not in the way he made it out to be. No one knew the truth. No one, but Scarlette. And now, no one, but me. I do believe him. I do believe he's trusted me enough to share this deep dark secret with me. This might make me the biggest idiot on the planet, but I decide to listen to my gut.
The only way I find fit to end this suffocating silence is spinning on my heels and throwing my arms around him. By the way he stumbles back, a moment of hesitation passing and then wraps his arms around my waist, he's just as surprised as I am. I didn't think. I just acted. I can't remember a time in my life I've ever done that, but he brings out that side of me that I never knew existed. All I wanna do is comfort him in the way he hasn't since the loss of his child. People didn't look at him feeling sorry for his situation, but as a monster who felt no remorse for his wrong doings. There are still so many unanswered questions, but for now, I'll sit knowing that Roman Berkshire is not the monster that others, or himself, think he is.
Neither of us say anything. The quiet isn't something that either of us run away from. Rather, something we embrace. Time is nonexistent. We stand there for what feels like forever and like no time at all. Nevertheless, minutes pass, holding each other as if we're keeping ourselves grounded.
As if realizing that we can't stay here forever, safe in the tight space we created, we release each other. We look at each other like we're looking for the first time. I guess it kinda is. I no longer see him as the intimidating, publisher bachelor. In this new view, he's a dangerous man with a dark past that was forced upon him. Even deeper, I see a little boy that was broken by his father. And by the look in his eyes, he sees me differently. I don't know how he sees me now, or how he saw me before, but he actually looks at me with something that can only be described as surprise. Like he didn't know this side of me existed. That makes both of us.
Surprisingly enough, after everything that has unfolded over the last few months, I'm handling this much better than I thought was capable. Than he thought I was capable of.
There's so many questions I have, all of which can be answered at another time, but one. "Why didn't you ever tell anyone?" Not knowing what to do with my hands, I cross my arms. "Why'd you just let everyone think you did this horrible thing? Why'd you let them create this narrative that you were this heartless monster? At the very least, why didn't you tell your family the truth? Don't you think they should know that you didn't kill your son?"
It seems that he doesn't know what to do with his hands either because a second later he's tucking his hands away in his pockets. "At the time it was easier to allow them to believe I'd be capable of that, rather than the truth. Somehow, it felt worse that they'd know that my whole marriage was a fucking failure. I was a failure. Instead of protecting my family, it was destroyed under my watch. They wouldn't see Amelia for who she was. Either way, no matter what I said, it would be my fault. At least this whole situation was shaped by my narrative. Instead of being seen as a man who couldn't keep his ducks in a row, lost everything, the rug torn from beneath him, I was a man who was capable of dangerous things. Heartless. Someone to fear. That became useful when it came to the family business. You know what would happen if they all found out that my own wife did this to me? They would destroy all of us. See the Berkshire name as a joke, weak. I did it to keep my family's reputation and mine."
Even after his explanation, I'm still lost. In his world, is image and 'weakness' more important than honesty and morals?
"Sawyer, I need you to understand one thing. The choice of staying or going is yours. Though, you shouldn't make that decision until you have all the facts." Unlike his tone before, he sounds more serious and business like again. If he didn't just grab my hand and hold it in his, I'd think we took ten steps back. "You've caught the attention of the wrong people. Because of me, your life is in danger. All I can do about that is apologize and hope you hear the sincerity in my voice. These people believe that you are an integral part of my life." His gaze leaves mine, only for a moment, looking at our hands. This small gesture is the only part keeping us together. Strangely enough, it brings me comfort knowing that I'm not alone. Even if he is the reason I'm in this mess. "Because of that, they will attempt to use you against me. Whether it be to turn you against me or threaten to harm you to make me their puppet or worse. The possibilities are endless." He brushes the back of my hand with his thumb, distracting me from the real danger that is boiling beneath the surface of this conversation. "The truth is, Sawyer, your family will be in danger the moment you step on Georgia soil. These people will follow you. They'll track every step you take. They'll know your entire childhood, family, and closest friends, before the day is over. Those relationships will be used against you, to draw you in until they have you in the palm of their hands, then use you against me. And trust me, they will do anything to get a grip on you. Including hurting those closest to you." To my disappointment, he drops my hand and takes a step back. He's giving me space, without using his touch to tempt me, to make the decision that's best for me. He's right to, because the second he removes his skin from mine, a wave of fear swoops me off my feet. My whole world has been flipped since meeting Roman Berkshire. Nothing is as it was. Because I decided to turn a blind eye to all the strange things occurring, I am stuck in a world I know nothing about. I'm in danger. Everyone close to me is in danger.
I blame myself for putting myself and those closest to me in harm's way. If I never went against my papa's wishes, followed this little plan he set out for me, things would have been different. Because of my selfishness, I can now get everyone killed.
The choice is not really a choice at all. Either run away and have people study my life, planning to use it against me or, stay here and have Roman's protection. And just like that, my choice is made for me. "I'll stay."
What did you think of this chapter?
I'm currently working on the second draft of Mr. Berkshire, but I want to change the title to something more Greek. This will not affect the currently story.
What title should it be? Mr. Mavros or Mr. Adino?
If you have any ideas for a title, please let me know!