I jerk up, eyes opening at the speed of lightening, and chest heaving up and down as my body is covered in sweat. Running my hands through my hair, I try and calm down, taking in breathes in sets of threes, my brain fuzzy. My head spins and my vision becomes blurring as a tear escapes. Right away I shoot up my hand to wipe away the evidence of a tear ever falling, looking to my right to see Nixon beside me, asleep as my jaw clenches. I have to go back to sleep. I need to go back into the slumber that I had awoken from, the image of Gavin's limp body flashing through my mind. I can remember the bloody trail his body left behind as Justin dragged it out of the house, how Nixon pulled me into the room, how the moonlight consumed us. After him telling me all of those words about how we could never part, he pulled me into his arms and carried me up the stairs. He laid me down to rest and I've been here sense, getting little naps in here and there as I cannot stop seeing Gavin's dead body.
Warm arms wrap around me, pulling me into a hard chest, lips pressed against my temple. I cringe, wanting to push him away and run, to undo what I have done. I cannot go back to my family, to a mother who judges me, a sister who hates me, and a father who does not understand me. To a family Nixon would not hesitate to harm to get to me. To the woman who he has no idea is carrying his child. After all we have done, I got knocked up, we used protection but that wasn't enough. The protection we used to prevent this from happening means nothing now as he holds me and I hold a secret from him. A secret that keeps me from leaving if I ever told it. But if I ever ran, I only fear what could happen if I decided to run. It is not just my life I will be placing in danger or that I have to look out for, no, I am now also looking out for my child's now as well. No doubt Nixon will catch on, the morning sickness that should be kicking in any second, the cravings, the swollen fingers and feet, not to mention the bump. It's either that I leave before the signs are present and pray he never finds me or I tell Nixon and pray for the best.
The arms loosen their hold as my body remains tense, his eyes meeting mine as he turns my face with his strong fingers. Fingers that could wrap around my neck and twist it at a rate with a force that causes my body to fall limp. "Lily, you knew going behind my back would not be taken lightly," Nixon whispers. "Lily?"
I shake my head, body shaking as I push Nixon away, my whole body jittery as I climb off of the bed and place myself before the balcony doors. My whole body feels as if it is ready to shut down, for my systems to fail and to escape this situation. Nixon watches me as he sits up, curious as he simply awaits my words. I cross my arms, circling my body as I try and give myself any form of comfort. My tongue feels as if it is swollen, my eyes wide, and my throat dry. "You killed him," I whisper, my voice weak as I begin to cry. "You killed Gavin." He nods. "You're insane!"
He cocks his head to the side, crossing his arms now as his eyebrows knit together. "You're fucking delusional and I have been blind to have stayed here so long. You placed me up against my family and bet on that and stupid me followed along with that," I shout, my legs weak as I want to crumble to the floor and cry until the sun rises. The sunlight is what I seek now, how my life seems to now be spent in the lifeless moonlight that consumes this hollow house. "I've stayed here and let you have your way with me over and over again and I've been so delusional to believe there was more to you. That there could be more to us."
I've been digging my own grave the moment I stepped into his house.
"You're so insane that if I ran from here you would hunt me down and harm whoever stood in your way."
I need to stop speaking.
I sob, turning around to the balcony doors as I open them with a strong force, the double doors slamming against the walls as I storm out. The tears begin to cloud my vision as I know Nixon will only follow me. My body becomes weak as I lean against the railing, looking to the pool below, the gardens, the layout of the backyard where the flowers no longer hold vibrant colors, but pale hues from the moonlight.
He's on the balcony now. I can sense it, I can sense his anger and frustration. I said the unforgivable just now and I have no idea how Nixon is to truly react the second I turn around. Taking in a shaky breath, I look to the house just across the fence, where Oliver still lives. His room lights are off, blinds shut, and feeling like a million years away. I feels like eons ago when I was last there, playing games with previous friends as we laughed and enjoyed the night. Have I felt that sort of happiness since? Have I genuinely laughed or smiled like I used to when I felt those emotions of joy? My eyes shortly glance down to my flat stomach, how soon it will not be that way anymore, how I will have to tell Nixon soon enough of I decide to not flee. Gavin said I could only truly be free unless I died or Nixon died. I cannot die, I cannot die because of my child, because I am going to keep this child and I have no idea how Nixon will find out.
"You're controlling and dangerous," I whisper, looking over my shoulder to see Nixon leaning against the doorway to the balcony. His arms cross and eyebrows knitted together, I can tell he is trying hard to not harm me, to put me in my place and make me regret ever saying those words. "I wanted to believe that you were innocent," I add, knowing I need to shut up. "That you did not kill Lillian, but you did, Nixon. You may see yourself in the nail in the coffin and just doing the deed to take the role of some sort of karma, but I see you as a savage and murderer."
Turning around, I lean against the railing, watching as Nixon pushes off of the doorway and heads into the moonlight of the balcony. He's pondering what to do, if he's going to try and put me in my place by force. Nixon slides his hands into his pockets, holding his head high as he strides over to me, my neck cranking to meet his gaze. "Do you think I would ever harm you like I did Lillian?" He asks, voice soft as I know he's using his silver tongue. He's just admitted to harming her. He has. He's admitted and there's no justice to be done here without placing my child's life in direct danger. "Do you think I would ever lay a hand on you in a harmful way?" His hand comes up, thumb grazing across my top lip.
That night in the shower. Months ago when he helped me take Taylor out of a club. Taylor and her friends were across the hall and Nixon forced his way in, stripping me down and ordering me to place my hands on the wall. He had me just stand there as he rammed into me and I felt sick. I remember thinking that I wanted it, that I wanted what Nixon was giving me. He raped me. He's already laid a forceful hand upon me.
"You raped me," I whisper, my voice soft as my eyes begin to water. Nixon simply raises an eyebrow, his fingers taking ahold of my chin as I am forced to look up higher to meet his gaze. "Months ago when we got Taylor from a club, you raped me."
"You never said no," Nixon points out as I become furious.
"I never said yes. I never informed you that I wanted to have sex and you forced your way in. You forced yourself upon me," I snap, just about to raise my hand to slap Nixon, only for my arms to be pinned behind my back and Nixon pushed duly against me. "You deserve to rot in hell."
"Be careful what you say, Lily," he snaps. "I did not force myself upon you. We had fucked plenty of times before and you never said yes either. You never deliberately said yet to that yet for this one instant-
"I wanted to-to fuck then," I snap, spitting out the words as I feel dirty to put it like that. "I did not want to have sex with you that night and I told you I didn't want to because I was tired and Taylor was just down the hall."
"Tell me this, Lily," Nixon begins, pulling back from me as he takes me with him, pulling me away from the railing. "Tell me that you did not enjoy what we did after all of those nights. That you did not enjoy me ramming into you on the kitchen counter, the table, the piano, my desk, the bookshelf, the Persian ru-
"You're sick," I snap.
"Tell me that you did not enjoy all of those nights we enjoy. Tell me that you did not enjoy the demons we brought forth when we committed those sins against what society calls dysfunctional. Tell me you did not enjoy every moment that you moaned each letter of my name out, that you did not enjoy how I could make your eyes roll back and your toes curl. Tell me that you did not enjoy every second that you watched me unravel in your arms and whisper just how beautiful you are. Tell me all of that meant nothing to you and I will take every second we intertwined our demons as nothing but rape."
A scowl forms upon my face and my fists begin to tighten. "Tell me that you did not enjoy every moment I had you to myself and I will not take you up against this wall right now."
I shake my head.
"Tell me."
"You're sick."
"Did you enjoy those moments of lust? Of desire?" He asks, pressuring me even more as I feel the cold wall pressed against my back. Hands on either side of my head and my heart wants to escape my chest and run.
I know what I felt about those moments we had. About those nights we spent filling this hollow house with cries of passion. "I did," I confirm, head lowering as shame fills my soul and I want to run far from here. Far from the man that traps me in an eternal prison as long as one of us stays living. One of our deaths is my escape from this prison, but I cannot die to escape, no, I have a child. We have a child and as much as I hate to admit it, Nixon deserves to know of his child within me.
Lips connect with mine and I feel sick, sick as I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me, needing more as the tears fall down my cheek. His arms circle around my waist and no air is left between the two of us, my soul tainted and my brain telling me to throw his body over the railing. As his hands go under my shirt as his skin meets mine, electrifying my body, the moment his hands cross my stomach, I tense, moving my head to the side for his lips to meet my cheek.
Nixon pulls away briefly, hooded eyes meeting mine as I know I have to tell him. Looking away to the garden, I take in a shaky breath, knowing what I must admit.
"What's wrong?" He asks, voice laced with worry as I want to vomit.
"I'm pregnant," I whisper, feeling not just my world, but both of ours flip upside down and shatter before our very eyes.
<><>
I watch from above, the railing my only support from falling and plummeting to the grand entrance below. The door is opened, the sunlight leaking in as if the light at the end of the tunnel, so close yet an endless abyss right before it can reach you. Nixon stands below, greeting a pack member as they have business to attend here with the male I told only a day ago the news of a child. He looks up to me, his dark eyes meeting my dull pair, our glance short yet powerful. Turning back to his pack member, I hold my chin high, taking in a deep breath as I push off of the rail, knowing I must greet the woman below with kind eyes. My feet carry me down the grand staircase, a smile spreading across my face as I know I must act happy to se this woman. This woman I have never met yet I should of at least years of. With black hair that just falls below her shoulders, an oval face, fair skin, and the same pair of navy eyes, she is breathtaking beautiful. Her arm stretched out and hand to be taken, I take her hand, greeting her with a simple handshake and saying a short 'hello.' Natalia Maxwell, the sister of Nixon Maxwell and the woman he told me I would meet.
"Nixon has spoken so much about you," Natalia informs, her voice kind, yet I wonder if she holds the same silver tongue as her brother. "I am happy he has found someone new that he loves." She's referring to the death of Lillian, the woman she met as well, probably acted as nice to, and did nothing when she heard the news of Lillian's death.
"I am afraid I cannot say the same, I've never met a sibling nor heard of one formally," I respond, looking over Natalia's shoulder to see Nixon give me a soft glare. I know to not be rude, but I do not want Natalia to think we are a happy couple. That we are living in a fairytale because I now know that fairytales are only for children for a reason. "Are you part of Crimson Lock?" I ask, shifting the subject as Natalia stands beside her brother, almost just as tall, a slender yet toned body, and dressed in designer heels and business attire.
She shakes her head. "My mate and husband is a Councilman at the palace for King Zion, we live up there," she explains, looking around the grande entrance where Gavin was slain a day ago. The day I informed Nixon of the child we are to have. How did he react? He was silent, his eyes telling me he was happy and proud, yet a small glance of fear. He had held me on that balcony, arms around my frame as I sobbed. He told me we would be happy, that this child would only bring us together and help us build our relationship back up to what it once was. I remember his lips pressed against mine, how he told me we would be happy in the end, yet the only emotion I could pinpoint in his words was absolute sadness. Sadness because he explained how Lillian could not have children, how he had always wanted a heir but she could never give him that, as she could never give him her heart nor soul. He spoke of moments when Lillian would try and deny him of the relationship they had, only causing me to fear leaving him. He then told me something I can never forget no matter how hard I try.
"Now, I hear that there are wedding bells in the air for you two." Natalia has broken the smile I have tried to keep. I had no doubt Nixon would tell those he trusts, but I did not think it would be this soon. "Married so soon? What sparked that amount of rush?" she asks, looking to me as I try and seem happy. Natalia holds out her hand, wanting to see the one where the ring was slipped on five hours ago when the moonlight leaked into the house. He told me that we would be together. He told me we would never part. As he told me we would marry, I only agreed, knowing that if I am to stay here, I would need to comply and marry this male. I always wanted to get married before I started a family, is just seemed the most ideal, but now, as I wear a ring that Natalia is in awe of, I find that ideal wish for marriage to become a broken image.
"We just don't want a short engagement and Lily wants an early fall wedding," Nixon informs, stepping beside me as his arm wraps around my waist and Natalia smiles.
"You two are adorable." She must not notice the way I cringed when his arm wrapped around my waist. As Nixon pulls me closer to him, Natalia places her bag down on a small table placed beside the entrance door, a silver vase with lavender flowers placed perfectly there. "I cannot wait! How big will it be?"
"Pack mostly," I inform, knowing what Nixon told me earlier, how he wanted to not do all the talking, he wanted me involved so it did not look one-sided. I a to marry a man that killed his last wife, but he wants this child, he does, I can see it in his eyes that he is proud to hear of the child to be born. For now, I believe the child is the only thing that keeps him from slamming me into walls and growling at me. Who knows, maybe one day I may push him over the edge and he'll snap in a matter of seconds, charging at me and causing me to lose the child I am willing to protect. Abortion? I could not do that, I could not kill off a child innocent to the world it is to be born into. This child will be innocent and the second Nixon holds it, it will become tainted. But maybe this child will cause him to change, to become a great father who raises his child with kindness and respect, our child upholding these values. Maybe I will learn to be happy with our child. Maybe our child will allow me to smile genuinely once again.
Natalia is lead by Nixon into the sitting room, the modern furniture placed upon a Persian rug, the floor-to-ceiling windows causing the home to seem a lot more peaceful than what comes at night. I follow behind, Nixon having Natalia sit down across from his personal seat, the white piano sitting in the center of the room, drawing all the attention to it. "Do you play, Lily?" Natalia asks, noticing how I look to the piano that Lillian was slaughtered across.
My skin becomes pale as I look back to Natalia, meeting her navy eyes that are so similar to the ones that grace my nightmares. "She does," Nixon informs, not giving me room to make up an excuse, allowing himself to hold fear over me. He's wanting me to play upon the piano I have so many times, only now I know that Lillian was laid across this piano, naked with a pearl necklace, and killed. "Why don't you play for us, Lily, let my sister hear your talent."
I cannot say no. I cannot turn and walk out of the room. If I leave, not only do I show Nixon disrespect to a man who rules with fear, but Natalia will see the faces behind the masks worn. I simply nod my head, walking over to the piano bench, each step feeling like nails are piercing my flesh. As I take a seat upon the bench and hold my head high, my fingers graze the ivory keys, thinking of an appropriate choice to play. As I press down upon the first keys, I decide the song to play, the intensity of the piece and emotions that the composer intended fully presented. It starts off joyful, a sense of adventure intended, my body moving with the notes, playing another five lines of the piece, only for the tone to shift. The song becomes darker, the notes sharper, the intensity of how I press upon the keys only increasing as my fingers begin to scale over the whole piano, moving up and down every single key throughout the entire piece, and as I come to an end, the last notes playing, I lightly lift my fingers off the keys and look to the stunned audience.
"Beautiful," Natalia comments, chin rested upon her fingers as I look over to Nixon, his hooded eyes meeting mine. Shivers run down my spine, my heart skipping a beat as I want to cower and run. The way he looks at me, how his eyes connect with mine, it makes the mark he placed upon my neck tingle and the hairs on the back of my neck raise.
"Magnificent," Nixon adds, his voice soft yet dark, his eyes still connected with mine as my throat runs dry.
Getting to my feet, I thank Natalia, briefly looking over to Nixon as a soft smirk can be seen, only meant for only me to see as a lump forms in my throat. As I start to walk over to a separate couch, Nixon calls me over, patting the seat beside him as I nod, trying to hold my head high as I make my way over to not just the man who imprisons me or whose child I am to have, but also my fiancée. Crossing my legs, I sit beside Nixon, his arm around my shoulder, Natalia talking on with Nixon about her life back in the realm where the palace is. My fingers move to the ring around my finger, twirling it around as I wonder how much I could sell the ring for and use that money to run. I know it's a bad idea, one that only would result in consequences because Nixon Maxwell is a man born to be the perfect predator. It is a massive diamond, princess cut, upon a platinum band with sapphires, the sparkle of it impressive. It's more than I would have wanted if I would have gotten married to someone I truly loved.
"Lily?" I look to Nixon, his voice grabbing his attention. "Natalia is heading out."
"You just got here," I comment, looking to the sister, collecting herself as she gets to her feet.
"I will be staying at the pack house tomorrow and then back to the palace for the wedding. You two are coming, correct?" The wedding.
"We are," Nixon replies, the two of us getting to our feet as he holds me close. "We'll see you out." We do indeed, following Natalia out and waving goodbye to her as she hops into her car and drives off. As she passes the gates of the house, arms wrap around my torso, a chin resting upon my shoulder as I cringe. "Tell me something, Lily," he whispers, lips dangerously close to the mark he made upon my neck. "Tell me the truth here and I will never ask again."
I turn my body, looking back to Nixon as the sunlight is so close to touching.
"If you were not pregnant, would you have agreed to marry me with so little retaliation?"
"I hardly retaliated," I comment, "you gave me no choice and I could do nothing." His arms tighten around me and I find myself struggling to keep my head up. "I told you I was pregnant because you deserve to know. You deserve to know because I feared that if you didn't, you would hurt me." His eyes soften yet at the same time become darker, Nixon wanting to put me in my place, but he knows what I say is true, he knows that because of this child he cannot harm me because he too wishes to hold this child. "I do wish to run from you, to keep you away from me as long as I can, but I know what Gavin said and I know what he said was true, how you would hurt anyone standing in your way of getting to me."
Nixon steps away, the sunlight right before me as he exits the pathway to the door. He circles around me, as if a lion before digging its claws into its weak prey. "You are not dumb at all," Nixon states, fingers running through my short locks, lips shortly pressed against my temple. "You know what could happen if you fled and you know that this child will keep you physically safe. But you don't just see that's, you also see that by staying here, you are locking yourself up here forever." I try and remain calm as he leaves the doorway open for new, as of taunting me.
"Yes, I am locking myself up to you," I respond, my voice weak as my knees begin to wobble. "I know what I am doing here, Nixon, how I am drinking the hemlock like Socrates."
"Good," Nixon whispers, pulling away from me as he leaves me alone with the light at the end of the tunnel. "Don't forget it."