Chapter 20: Denial and Realization
Shadé
The moment I stepped out of Vincent's room, I couldn't help but think about the pained expression in Vincent's eyes. He seemed so hurt by the fact that I didn't want him to touch me. But, what did he expect? I'm not the same woman who slept with an engaged man. Why am I even caring? He hurt me, it's only right that I hurt him as well.
I heard the sound of the bathtub running. I'm assuming that Vincent must be getting ready to take a bath. This was actually unusual. Usually he'd take a shower when he's alone. For as long as I've been around Vincent, I've learned that he only bathes when he's in the 'mood' or when he's depressed. My guess is the latter, considering the way he was a little earlier.
I shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling of him bathing and began my long tread back to the Servant's Quarters. But as I was halfway down the corridor, my conscience was telling me to go back. My conscience was always right, except when it came to the night my twins were conceived.
I sighed irritably. I wanted to go to sleep, but at the same time my conscience was getting the best of me. I didn't want to have anything to do with Vincent, I really didn't. But, I was having an internal conflict with myself.
Check on him or ignore him and go-
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud crash. My heart sped up and so had my legs as they ran back down the hall. I hurriedly grabbed the doorknob, noticing that it was locked.
Oh God.
"Vincent!? Vincent! Open the door! Now," I wailed loudly, my voice cracking as I pounded on the large oak door. I looked around my surroundings in the large corridor, looking for something to break the door down, but as I stepped away from the door, I realized that there was nothing in this hallway that could break this large door.
I thought fast and sprinted down the hallway, praying to God that I run into a security guard. This is the Windsor Castle, no doubt, there were guards everywhere. Sure enough, I nearly collided into one.
"S-sir, P-p-prince Vin-" I cut myself short noticing that he ignored my stuttering panic. I ran after the man, noticing that my vision was blurring. Was I crying this whole time?
It didn't matter because as soon as the guard unlocked the door with his key, I pushed pass him, into the room, glancing at my surroundings. "Vincent," I yelled out again, hoping I'd get a response, but I didn't. I ran to the closed door of Vincent's bathroom and opened it to find him in the most frightening position I could ever imagine him in. He was leaned against the wall in a sitting position. Glass was sprawled everywhere and blood oozed from multiple parts of his body.
My eyes went wide as I couldn't hold in my scream. This wasn't something I wished to happen to the father of my children! This-this couldn't be happening!
I rushed to his side, noticing that his body was beginning to fall over. I quickly caught him in my arms and pulled him against my chest. I ignored the small glass shards piercing my legs beneath me. I placed my hand on his naked chest and felt his faint heartbeat.
I cried harder, laying my head on his wet head of hair. "V-V-Vincent, every-thing's go-g-going to be okay, alright," I managed to choke out. "You're g-going to wa-wa-wake up, and every-thin-thing is go-going be f-fine," I said between sobs.
"I'm going to get some help," I vaguely heard the security guard yell.
I hadn't responded. All that was existent in the world was me and Vincent's wounded body. "V-Vincent, I h-hope you c-can he-hear me," I hiccupped as I stroked his silky, wet hair and felt his slow heartbeat against my hand. "If-If you g-go, I w-want to t-tell you th-that o-our b-b-bab-"
Suddenly, I was cut off by the sound of the castle's paramedics. They pushed me to the side and pulled Vincent on to the stretcher. I wiped my tears from my eyes, but it was no use. They kept coming.
The security guard stood beside me with tissue paper. I took them and blew my nose. "Th-thank you," I hiccupped as I stared up at the large, intimidating man. He looked at me strangely, as if I was some sort of alien.
"W-what," I hiccupped. I wasn't crying as bad as I was anymore, but the hiccups were still there and so were the redness in my eyes.
"Is there something going on between you and His Majesty," he asked suspiciously.
I cocked an eyebrow at him. Vincent and I haven't been with one another since we bathed together and that was a while ago. That thought sent shivers down my spine.
"Are you okay," he asked, noticing my slight shiver.
"Yes, I'm fine. But, no, there is nothing going on between us," I said dismissively. I began to walk away, but was tugged by my arm.
"I've heard a lot about you and the Prince. There's no reason for you to lie," he said soberly.
I scrunched my face and yanked my arm away from him. "Sir, whatever you heard is not true. I can assure you, Vincent and I-"
"That tells me right there that you two had an affair. You're even on first name bases with him," he accused.
"Many people call him by his name when he's not around," I shot back.
"Not true. So, you're the crowned prince's mistre-"
Before he and I knew it, my fist collided with his jaw, sending his head to his right. He snapped his head back in my direction as I sent him a venomous glare. This man is not going to call me anything out of my name.
"I am no mistress, whore, slut, anything of the sort," I said angrily, my fist balled up at my sides.
Unfortunately, I hadn't expected the security guard to retaliate. His palm quickly smacked my right cheek. The impact was so strong, my body was caught off balance.
I gently placed my hand on my cheek and stared in shock at the polished floor. I can't believe this man put his hand on me! Has he lost it?!
"Don't ever hit me like that again! If you're going to hit like a lad, you're going to get treated like a lad," I heard him threaten. The clean, proper accent he had vanished in that one sentence; he had the sonority of a sailor.
His heavy footsteps and dangling key chain resonated a small distance away from me, as if he was leaving. "And indeed, you are the prince's whore. Unless he marries you, that's all you'll ever be," he said before I heard him leave.
I am no man's whore.
I got up to my feet and headed down the hall to where my cleaning tools were. I proceeded to cleaning up the mess in Vincent's bathroom, praying that he'll be ok, as well as ignoring the painful stinging sensation on my cheek.
I made sure that the bedroom and bathroom were completely spotless before turning off the lights and finally heading down to the Servant's Quarters.
I looked at the time on my watch. 11:28 P.M.
The other maids and servants were probably sound asleep. I went to my bedroom and prepared clothes for myself. Then, I headed to the showers. I scrubbed every part of my body, except for my legs and stomach, I washed those areas with a gentle lather. I know my legs were stinging and slightly bleeding, but for some reason, I couldn't feel it. I felt numb, and nauseous.
I brushed my uneasiness off and wrapped a towel around myself.
Once I was safely in my bedroom, I felt the tears pour from my eyes. I wasn't sure if I could take this much stress. The people around me, the situation I'm in; I don't think a pregnant woman should go through any of this.
I've been through too much during my work here. I've had sex with the crowned prince, I'm pregnant with his twins, I got into a fist fight with another maid, I was assaulted by a security guard, I have nowhere to go. And last, but not least, Vincent has been having me on such a crazy emotional roller coaster. All I could do is cry myself to sleep, wondering what will happen if one of my twins favor Vincent.
"Folashadé," a quiet voice said from behind my bedroom door.
I wiped my face and went to open the door. Aimee stood before me, her blonde tresses were disheveled and her eyes were slightly red, as if she just woke up.
"Did I wake you up," I asked softly.
She nodded. "Yes, you did. But, that doesn't matter, right now. Tell me why you're crying, sweetie," she said as she grabbed my hand, welcoming herself into my room, and then closing the door.
She sat down on my bed, pulling me beside her. She patted her lap, signaling for me to lie down, and I did.
"What's wrong, Shadé," she asked as she twirled a small curl near my edges.
"I don't think I can stay here any longer," I replied inaudibly. Surprisingly, she heard me.
I felt Aimee's thighs stiffen beneath my head before she replied. "Is it Vincent? Folashadé, don't let him-"
I turned my head to face the ceiling and stared up into Aimee's round face.
"It's not just Vincent, Aimee. Its other things...," I trailed off, averting my eyes from her intense stare.
"Elaborate," Aimee said sternly.
"Well, I think everything that's happened in my pregnancy is too stressful for me and my twins. If I continue to stay here, the amount of stress that I have will build up and my babies may be born with some type of birth defect," I explained, caressing my stomach.
"What's been causing you so much stress," Aimee asked gently after a small silence.
I looked back up at her, examining her face. She reminded me of the mother I never had. The mother that a teenage girl could talk to about her problems.
"The whole thing with Vincent is stress-worthy in its own. The fight I got into with Tiffany was very stressful. My concern of what the babies will look like scares me. Vincent hurt himself and now I'm worried about his health. And a security guard... he called me Vincent's whore and slap-"
Before I could finish my sentence, Aimee placed a firm finger against my lips, shushing me. "Before you continue, who said that and don't tell me you're going to say he slapped you," she hissed furiously.
I shrugged my shoulders, but nodded my head.
Aimee looked up and clenched her jaw angrily. She closed her eyes and ran her hand through her blonde hair, pulling the straight tresses from her face. She sighed frustrated before opening her eyes wide.
"When did Vincent hurt himself," she asked startled.
"Earlier tonight," I said, feeling my eyes burn as the tears began to form. The memory of seeing him in the position he was in was overwhelming.
"I'm going to deal with that worthless scum later," she hissed threateningly, but more to herself. "Do you know where Vincent is now," she asked in a soft voice as she looked back down at me.
"No, and I'm not planning on seeing him until he's back. I don't think I could take seeing him like that again," I said, rising my head from Aimee's lap and laying it on my pillow.
There was a few seconds of silence until I felt Aimee shift on my bed, lying beside me.
"Shadé, I know you love him, and I'm not judging you on that, but you have to talk to him," she said quietly, lying her head on my arm.
"No I don't," I objected to both having to speak to him and loving him. I don't need to talk to Vincent, nor do I love him.
"At least get one thing off of your back, please, Shadé. I see how bad Vincent wants to talk to you. The more you distance yourself from him, the more you're going to hurt you and the babies. Let him be there," she said gently.
"Aimee you don't know anything! Please stop acting like you do! You can't tell me who I love and what I should do," I snapped, glaring angrily at Aimee's surprised face.
"Well, I know that if you keep this up, nothing good will come out of this pregnancy," she shot back.
"Get the fuck out," I hissed bitterly.
Aimee hesitantly got up, and walked to the door, exiting without another word.
I laid back down, pulling my comforter over my body. I couldn't go to sleep that night. Instead of dreaming, I kept thinking about what Aimee had said. Maybe I was masking my love for Vincent as hate.