Robert was in the sitting room, lost in his book when Georgie came in. She'd taken a bath and was wearing her grey dressing gown with her hair up in a towel. She lit a fire in the fireplace, then sat down in front of the hearth and pulled the towel off her head. Her hair cascaded down her back in damp medusa-like sections. From where he was sitting, he could smell the clean, almost spicy scent of her shampoo. It smelled so good he couldn't stop breathing it in.
She took a section of her hair and started carefully combing out the snarls. He couldn't stop watching her. Her hair always looked so silky, he wondered what it would feel like to touch it.
"D'you mind if I comb your hair," he asked her. She looked at him with surprise, then suddenly turned away, blushing.
"Okay," she said shyly, not looking at him.
He sat on the floor next to her, took the comb and she turned so her back was to him. He lifted a section of her hair. It was heavy and a little cold from still being damp. He was careful, holding the hair as he worked the comb through it, so he wouldn't pull it and hurt her.
"Your hair is so beautiful, y'know."
She ducked her head and said quietly, "Thank you."
He couldn't stop himself. He leaned toward her and kissed her exposed neck. Her skin was so soft and warm on his lips. He kissed her neck again and she leaned against him, putting her hand behind his head, bringing him to her so she could kiss him. Her lips caressed his, setting him on fire. He could hear someone screaming far away.
Robert woke up with a start and then looked at the clock out of habit. While he waited for Georgie to stop screaming, he tried to push the dream out of his head, and ignore how it was still making him feel. He sighed loudly and turned over. He wished more than anything these annoying dreams about her would stop. Life with her was complicated enough. He didn't need his dreams adding another layer of complication by filling his mind with things he didn't want to be thinking. When Georgie was quiet, he tried to get back to sleep.
In the morning, before he went to get his breakfast, he reminded himself to keep his mouth shut around her. He didn't need any more confrontations like the disasters of the last two days. When he went in the kitchen, she was at the table with her coffee and a book. When he passed her to get his cereal, she looked up but didn't say anything and he was grateful she didn't talk to him.
He sat down at the table to eat, keeping his eyes on his bowl. Even though he wasn't looking up, she was sitting so close to him, he could tell she was hunched over her book but she wasn't tracing the words with her finger. He wondered why she was pretending to read, then pushed the thought out of his head with irritation. He didn't want to be thinking about whether she was reading or not.
When she was done with her coffee, she got up to wash her mug. He was finished with his cereal by time she'd put it away, but he waited at the table for her to leave before he washed up. He wasn't looking at her, but the kitchen was so damned small, he knew she'd leaned against the sink and was looking right at him.
"Today we're cleaning the library," she said, and something about her tone put him on alert.
He waited for her to continue, pretending to play with his spoon, but she didn't say anything so he looked up, pushing the hair out of his eyes. Damn it. She looked like something was bothering her. He didn't want to get drawn into another confrontation with her so he stayed silent. She just stood there looking at him.
"Alright," he replied, thinking maybe she was waiting for him to say something. Then he thought he should speed up the conversation, adding, "D'you think I should work out first?" She continued to look at him, and he became more uncomfortable as the seconds passed.
"It's really okay if you don't want to help me anymore. I won't be upset if you change your mind," she said finally.
He was surprised and relieved. Was this what she was upset about? He said firmly, "I'm not going to change my mind. I said I would help you, and I'm doing it."
It seemed to be the answer she was waiting for because she said, "Well, then you should work out first," and left the kitchen, taking her book with her.
Robert let his breath out the moment she was gone. He felt like he'd just crossed a battlefield without getting shot. He got up to clean his dishes then went to work out. When he was finished and dressed, he joined her in the library. She'd just finished dusting the chandelier, and it looked like the wobbly step stool had been used. He was glad she didn't get hurt, and grateful he hadn't been there when she'd used it and been compelled to step in and help her. She told him the list of different jobs, and the moment she said 'dust books' as an option, he interrupted her saying, "Right, I'll do that." She gave him a rag and he started.
Cleaning the library turned out to be the most enjoyable chore he'd done so far. He liked having the time to read the titles of the books, and he found a few that looked interesting after he'd read the dust jackets. It also distracted him from noticing how close Georgie was to him, since the library was so small they were practically working right on top of each other.
When they were finished, he helped her put everything away in the laundry room, managing not to say anything. Then he went to his room to wait for her to eat her lunch. He couldn't believe how much better he felt when he sat on his bed to read his book, even better than he had the day before. And he was glad he'd managed to work the whole time with her and only spoke to her the one time. He would read the rest of the day then have a quiet dinner. Today was shaping up to be a success. He could see himself spending the rest of his days like this.
That evening while they were preparing dinner, Robert had managed to keep his interactions with Georgie to a minimum, only speaking to her when he had to. He wondered which room they'd clean tomorrow. As he thought about the rooms he'd done with her so far, he couldn't help wondering, again, why she never seemed to mind doing the chores, especially now that he saw how unpleasant all that cleaning really was. It wasn't just that some of the jobs were difficult or uncomfortable to do, it was boring as hell working for hours with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company.
While he was thinking about it, he asked, "Which room do we do tomorrow?"
"The kitchen," she said, without looking at him. He looked around the room. It was so small it shouldn't take long, or be too difficult.
Then she interrupted his thoughts, saying in a loud voice, "You don't have to keep helping me, you know."
He looked at her, surprised. She was bringing this up again? She was looking right at him with the same expression she'd had that morning, like she was upset about something. While he looked at her, he felt despair wash over him. Even though he'd been so careful today, it was going to happen again. They were going to have another confrontation, and he was helpless to stop it.
He couldn't help sighing as he looked away from her. Maybe he should just tell her he'd quit helping her and finally put an end to it. No more interactions, no more confrontations, no more involvement. And then, tomorrow, and the rest of his days here, what would he do exactly? Work out, read, and make dinner in the oppressive silence almost entirely alone. It was too awful to think about. He couldn't go back to living like that, he thought desperately. He couldn't stand to be that lonely again. When he looked up at her, pushing his hair out of his eyes, she was still watching him.
"Is it that you don't want me to help you? Because if it is, just tell me," he asked, wondering if maybe that was what she was getting at.
She looked at him with her intense gaze for a few minutes. Her eyes were that purple color again, and he wondered vaguely if it was the dim lighting in the kitchen that caused it.
"I don't understand you, Robert," she said finally in her soft voice, surprising him. "You say you want to help me. But every time you've worked with me, you've acted like you don't want to be near me. You act like you hate being in the same room with me." Her voice broke when she said the last sentence, and he could tell from the tone she'd used, what she'd really meant was that he'd acted like he hated her.
He understood now. How could he have been so thick to think he could avoid talking to her and it wouldn't hurt her? Looking at her, he could see how hard she was trying to hide how much he'd hurt her, and he felt shame burn through him. It was cruel to treat her like this. Was this the person he'd become living here? Someone who was abusive and cruel to a girl who was already being abused? He couldn't bear to see the way she was looking at him.
He said quietly, "Georgie, I don't hate being in the same room with you."
She turned away suddenly, but not before he saw the pain in her eyes. He felt terrible. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd reached out and put his hand on her hers. When he touched her, he noticed right away how soft her hand was – and then he felt a terrible ache in his chest, as if it physically hurt him to have that contact with her skin. She had an immediate reaction to his touch too. She covered her face with the crook of her other arm and suddenly started sobbing. As he held onto her hand, she pulled away from him so she could leave the kitchen, but he didn't let go. She tugged harder to get free while she sobbed into her arm, but by now he had a tight hold on her wrist.
He knew it was wrong to keep holding her when she wanted to leave. But the longer he held on, the more he felt like he couldn't let her go. As he held on to her tightly, keeping her with him, he knew what he longed to do – what he needed to do – and he couldn't stop himself. He slowly pulled her to him and put his arms around her. He was afraid of what her reaction would be, ready to let go if she resisted, but she leaned against him, sobbing into his shoulder and he held her more firmly.
He couldn't believe how good it felt to have her in his arms, just the simple human contact of two people touching. It was first time he'd touched another person in nearly three weeks and he had no idea how much he'd missed it, how incredibly lonely he'd really been. While he held her in his arms, he could feel the ache in his chest easing a little. He thought she might be feeling the same way, because as she continued to cry, he could feel the tension in her body going away.
He knew he was going to regret this the minute he let go of her. He knew she was going to make all sorts of demands on him, and there would be no way he could avoid it. He'd crossed the line, and it was going to change everything. But he didn't want to think about that now. He just wanted to concentrate on how good it felt to have her in his arms.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head a little so he could rest his cheek against her soft hair, tightening his hold around her. She put her arms around his waist, holding him as she continued to cry. She felt warm and solid and comforting in his arms and he sighed deeply. He was so close to her hair, he smelled a trace of the clean, almost spicy scent of her shampoo. He couldn't help turning his head slightly so he could put his nose closer to it, breathing in her smell as he held her.
She stopped crying with a shuddering sigh, relaxing into him and it felt wonderful. He was glad he'd comforted her and hoped he'd made it up to her for how badly he'd treated her. She didn't let go to his relief, and neither did he. After a minute, she moved her head so she could rest her cheek on his shoulder. While they held each other, he listened to her slow and steady breathing and felt her chest expanding and contracting slightly in his arms.
After a few more minutes, she let go of him, pulling away and he immediately let go of her, trying to ignore the disappointment he felt. She stepped back, not looking at him and he dreaded what was coming.
After a moment she said quietly, "I wish I could understand why you're acting like you do." She paused and he waited. "I thought you'd be different when you said you'd help me. I didn't expect you'd want to be friends with me, but I thought – you'd at least talk to me – a little."
He didn't want to tell her the truth, that he'd deliberately done this to her, but he didn't know what else to say. He'd always been crap at talking about his feelings with girls. Trying desperately to come up with something, anything to say, he blurted out, "It's been hard for me. I've been upset a lot of the time." She looked up at him with her intense gaze for a minute.
"I understand," she said finally, then turned back to continue cooking at the oven.
He stared at her back, his mouth hanging open in shock. He couldn't believe she was going to pretend as if nothing had happened. She could've made a huge deal out of him hugging her, but she hadn't. He felt unbelievably grateful towards her and took her cue, going back to cooking as if nothing had happened. He didn't deserve for her to be this kind to him, he thought. Not after the way he'd been treating her.
As the enormity of what he'd done settled over him, he became angry with himself. He'd almost fucked things up in a spectacular way, he thought as he imagined what she could've said to him. A mistake like this could've complicated his life immensely. It was wrong for him to have done it, and he had to make sure he never did it again. But while he continued to cook, even though he tried desperately not to, he couldn't stop remembering how it felt to have her in his arms.
When it was time to eat, they were quiet, but the silence was different somehow. The tension that always seemed to be present when they were in the kitchen together, was gone now. Instead of the silence between them being charged, it was calm. Robert finished eating first, but waited for Georgie so they could clean up together. He thought about his stupid excuse for not talking to her while he waited. It wasn't entirely a lie. It had been hard for him.
He pushed his hair out of his eyes so he could see her better and asked, "How d'you keep from going mental?"
"I dance," she said, then took a bite and chewed. He waited thinking there had to be more.
When she realized it wasn't the kind of answer he was looking for, she swallowed her food and added slowly, "I have a schedule so I have something I'm supposed to do most of the day. I work out a lot. I make sure I have things I look forward to every day." She paused, and he waited.
"I guess that's it," she said finally, shrugging her shoulders. He thought it was a pathetically short list.
"Doesn't it get to you how quiet it is all the time? Sometimes I think the silence is going to crush me," he admitted quietly.
She slumped a little, looking at him sadly, then quickly looked down at her plate, perhaps sensing he didn't want her to feel sorry for him. "I guess it bothers me some – but I have my music when I dance," she said, as if she felt guilty he didn't have that.
"Playing the piano helps me a lot," she said. Then she looked up at him intensely and he knew what was coming.
"You could play the piano, you know," she added quietly.
"No!" he said a lot more loudly than he intended.
He continued in a quieter but firm voice, "I don't want to play. It would mean I belong here – that this is where I live – and I'm not ready to give up yet."
She looked at him with her intense gaze, making him feel like he was being x-rayed. He couldn't look at her and played with his fork.
"I understand," she said quietly after a minute.
Then she said hesitantly, "If you think it would help – you – you could come listen to me play the piano."
He didn't want to admit to her he was already doing it, and shrugged his shoulders. She didn't say anything else and finished eating.
They cleaned the kitchen together in silence, and while Robert dried the dishes Georgie washed, he thought how the conversation they'd just had was exactly what he'd been hoping to avoid. But what could he do? He couldn't continue to treat her like he had been. He couldn't live with himself knowing he was hurting her like that. And besides, it was obvious he was lonely as hell if he couldn't stop himself from holding her after he'd touched her practically by accident. He was just going to have to face the fact that there was no way to avoid getting close to her. He was just going to have to keep from getting too close.
When they were finished cleaning the kitchen, he went to his room and picked up his book. He was going to sit on his bed, but the thought of staying in his room to read the rest of the night was just too awful to consider, and he decided to go to the sitting room. He'd wanted to avoid reading there after dinner ever since he found out Georgie spent her evenings there too. But now, what was the point of avoiding her anymore? Maybe it would be best to get used to being around her so the novelty of it would wear off. Then he could just have a normal, sort of friendly relationship with her without all the drama of the last few days.
Robert sat in a chair in the sitting room and opened his book. He'd nearly finished this latest book. He'd already read more in the last three weeks than he had in the last three years, he thought ruefully. He remembered what Georgie said about having things to look forward to every day. Was reading something to look forward to? It was a decent way to pass the time, and provided a needed escape from the flat and the reality of his life. Working out definitely helped. It eased the nervous energy and made him feel better. And he could already see a change in how his body looked. He had a schedule of sorts for each day too. He could check off everything on her pitifully short list, but he still didn't feel like he was coping very well.
Georgie came into the sitting room wearing her old light grey dressing gown with her hair in a towel. She was a little surprised to see him, but she didn't say anything and started a fire. She combed her hair, and he watched her while pretending to read. Was this something he could look forward to every day, watching Georgie comb and dry her hair in front of the fire? Yes, it was. She was a beautiful girl, and there weren't many girls with hair like hers. He remembered when she'd taken her hair out of the braid and shook it out over her back. It looked so silky and wavy when it was down, and she looked so pretty when it was framing her face.
"Why don't ya ever wear your hair down?" he asked her.
She didn't stop combing or look at him when she answered. "He thinks it looks messy when it's down so I have to keep it in a braid."
He immediately felt a seething rage flare up that the bastard was so fucking controlling she wasn't even allowed to wear her hair down. "Well, I think your hair looks beautiful when it's down."
Robert was horrified. He couldn't believe he'd just said that out loud. Georgie couldn't either because she looked at him, wide eyed with shock, then quickly looked away blushing. They both pretended he hadn't said anything, but he could tell she wasn't reading very much. And a little while later, when he escaped to his bedroom, she couldn't look him in the eyes when she told him 'goodnight'.
When he was in bed, he wondered how he could've been so stupid to blurt that out. Just because he liked her hair didn't mean he should be telling her shit like that. There was no way she was going to forget something like that either. This was exactly the sort of mistake he had to avoid in the future because it would complicate things immensely with her. He was going to have to be a lot more careful, he told himself firmly, especially if he was going to be around her more.
To take his mind off how stupid he'd been, he thought about what Georgie said about having to wear her hair in a braid all the time. It suddenly occurred to him she had a lot less freedom than he did. The bastard controlled her so much, making her spend her days constantly cleaning, and she couldn't even wear her hair the way she wanted to. It was abusive to control her that much. Just as abusive as beating the shit out of her whenever he felt like it.
What she'd said when she'd had her outburst in the music room came back to him. "You're leaving here," like she wasn't leaving. It slowly dawned on Robert that maybe what she'd really meant was that he wasn't the only one being held prisoner.
Memories of different things that had happened since the night he'd arrived ran through his head unbidden. Things that hadn't made sense to him before, now suddenly came together, making perfect horrifying sense. A picture of what had been hidden to him, of what had been going on right in front of him, was now clear in his mind and he desperately didn't want it in there. Because what he was thinking was so awful – the implications of what it meant were so terrible – the black crushing weight was bearing down on him, getting ready to bury him – and he was going to be sick.
He ran out on the balcony to escape what was coming for him. It was pitch black, bitterly cold, windy, and raining. He held onto the parapet of the balcony, shivering and barefoot in his t-shirt and pajama bottoms, taking deep breaths of the wet freezing air, trying to get enough oxygen in his lungs, trying to keep his dinner from coming up, trying desperately not to think.
Eventually, the nausea passed, and he'd managed to keep the panic attack from taking over, but he stayed out on the balcony. When his teeth were chattering so badly he was afraid they might crack, and he couldn't feel most of his body anymore, he knew he wasn't able to bear being outside another second and he went back inside.
He changed into dry clothes and sat on his bed. He opened his book and forced himself to start reading while his teeth still chattered and his whole body shook. When he was too tired to keep his eyes open anymore, he climbed under the bedcovers, pulling them over his head and fell into an exhausted sleep.
****
So Robert has finally figured out what's been going on right in front of him all this time. You're all probably saying, it's about time!
Anyway this is one of my favorite chapters too (I have a lot of them!) because they HUG (yeah!) and it feels really good when they do! Robert finally allows himself to get close to Georgie, and that feels good as well! And he's kind of maybe falling for her a little!
As you can see, things are starting to heat up and I guarantee the next chapter, and all the ones after, are going to be... Well, I just hope you like them as much as I do!
Thank you for reading! I hope you'll leave a comment and let me know what you think so far.