Ptolemus Pov
It's been a whole other week since I've seen Isabelle, a whole week of pure torture, plain agony. Most of the time it doesn't seem real, it doesn't seem possible, that I could have done what I did. I could have sworn up and down it was Isabelle I laid with that night. It was her I made smile, her I was totally vulnerable with that night. Which shows how much my word is worth to anything or anyone.
I can still hardly remember that night. It's all in a haze, flicking in and out. I can't recall ever being so drunk. I don't remember Wren or any of the actions we did. All I remember is Isabelle. My Isabelle.
The days blur together now, and I stick to a strict rountine. It works to keep any questions away, to keep Eve from throwing me curious glances and my parents from taking away the brown liquid refuge I have tucked into my chambers.
But most of all, it's best to avoid seeing Isabelle. The one person I would kill to see now, that I find myself standing, whimpering at her door like a wet dog. All the while being too big of a coward too afraid to knock.
Luckily, my parents were too focused on wrangling with the other houses to care about my sudden situation, and I let himself feel a sliver of relief about it too. The very last thing I want is for someone to tell me of the severity of my mistake and scold me for it, more than I was already doing to myself every waking moment.
Eve tried to talk to me, knocking on my door sometime in the late afternoon. Concern laced in her voice. But all I felt was a harsh fatigue and hadn't bothered to answer to my sister. I really wanted to be alone.
Despite how much I slept, I still felt the lingering sensation of exhaustion. I know that I don't sleep well, I've gotten so used to the knowledge and security of Isabelle's love and now that it's gone, it weighs on me even in my sleep.
But my dreams are not empty. No, in fact they are filled with false promises and fantasies. Memories that felt so real, I could almost fool myself into believing they occured when I wake.
Isabelle's soft skin pressing against mine. Her warm embrace and feather light kisses. The scent of her skin and taste of her lips. My hands on her. Her nimble fingers, running across my back.
I swallow roughly and forced myself to turn back to the meeting occurring at the moment.
Jerald speaks to my father but his words float past me. I don't register any of it, not really. I try. I do. But as always, Isabelle invades my mind. The last time she looked in my eyes.
I inwardly flinch. Whatever hell she is sure to dish out when we come face to face, whatever verdict she lays before me, I know I deserve.
Terror creeps up, threatening to strangle me. To swallow me whole, and my fingers in return grip the armrests of my throne. Father glances at me from the corner of his eye, but I can't being myself to care. Not right now.
And if she asks you away. A voice sneers in my head. If she screams and tells you to leave. To never touch her again. That her love is gone. That she no longer belongs to you. What then?
What then?
Isabelle POV
Every cell in my body screams at me. Every vain, lit with fire. I want to scream, to pull my hair out. I feel as if I need to pull myself out of my own skin. To disappear.
I don't belong here. This never should have happened. Is it me? Is this my fault?
Suddenly loving him from afar seems perfect. He could have done what he's done, and I would never know. I would be ignorant, oblivious, and happy.
Happy.
A feeling I've haven't felt in months. I haven't seen my family in months. It could be years.
I didn't know where I found myself, somepoint after I fled. But once my head somwhat cleared and my tears ran dry, I could see I that I had pulled up fistfuls of lush green grass. The gardens? The same ones I walked for hours in the night to clear my head and escape my confineds. I suppose it's only habit now for me to come here.
The new sun was shining brightly, and the morning dew soaked my dress and hands. There was a slight morning chill, but I still sat there for the longest moments my thoughts void of any emotion.
It seems as if I had run out of energy to feel any in that moment. My body, my soul just couldn't take anymore. Dirt gathers under my nails as I dig my hands deeper into the earth.
I'm so weak. Many more suffer worse and here I am, crying and pathetic.
But I couldn't find it in myself to move. That is where Roe found me, sometime later, a wool blanket in her arms.
The fabric swallows me, as she wraps it around my shoulders. Her hands, hesitant even still despite knowing my kindness to her and Kess. She ushers me up and back into Ridge house.
I let her, keeping my head down, avoiding any curious eyes. She leads me down a familar hallway, the servants path. I'm grateful to her suddenly. Surely nobody would think to come this way.
She leads me to my chambers without fault and without words. She closes the door and strips me out of my ruined, mud stained clothes and takes the pins and hair clips out, dropping them nearly back into my jewelry box.
But that was a week ago. And I still have to face Ptolemus, face reality. And due to my worsening conditions, Kess and Roe have taken it upon themselves to look after me.
Today, Kess draws me a bath, the steam flowing into the room, as Roe finishes taking out my hair. Roe leads me into the bathroom, as Kess leaves.
"Kess added lavender and rose oils for you Ms. Isabelle," she informs quietly.
"Thank you, Roe," I answer turning to look at her. "Please, you and Kess go ahead and have the rest of the day to yourselves."
She hesitants but bows her head, "Thank you, my lady."
And then I'm alone again.
I sink into the water, enjoying the sensation as it stings my skin, making my blood rise. I sink deeper, letting it rise up to my chin as my hair floats around me. The scented oils added to the water invades my senses, relaxing my muscles and calming my nerves. It clears my mind enough for me to think.
But I can't bring myself to follow any real pattern of thought. Instead I let myself fall deeper into the water, submerging my head under.
It is quiet and empty under here, and the world around my fades into nothing. I quickly decided I like it. The empty. It's easier to understand. I can fool myself that my pain isn't real.
My chest begins to burn with need for air but I push myself to stay under. I close my eyes and count the seconds.
A firm hand closes around my arm painfully, and panic streaks through me and I open my mouth to scream, water flooding into my mouth.
It lurches me up, so quickly my chin snaps against my collarbone with the force. I hear water splash against the tile as I gasp at the air, half of it a shriek.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A rough voice screams.
A rough fabric scratches my skin as I'm lifted fully from the tub, as I cough roughly. "Have you lost your mind!" He shouts his grip on my arms like iron, as he seems to shake me, but he may be trembling.
He picks me up and carried into my room. His touch is comforting, his heartbeat rapid, his grip overly tight as if I'll slip through his fingers.
He sets me on the bed with surprising gentleness. He leaves me there, as he pulls open my drawers pulling out a long shirt and some sweats. He pauses for a moment, hunched over the dresser before turning and tossing the clothes to me.
I reach out just in time to catch my shirt, but the sweats hit my knees and slid to the floor.
"Could I at least have some underwear?" I snap at him.
His jaw grinds but he turns back around and opens another drawer. I watch him, quickly tossing aside towel, to slip on the shirt.
He turns just as I'm pulling it down, so it falls gracefully down my thighs. Ptolemus' gaze follows, his hand tightening around a piece of fabric in his fist.
He steps forward handing me my underwear and I take it, careful not to touch him. I'm put them on, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, and he even has some decency to pretend like he isn't watching.
"What were you doing?" He says his hands gripping one of the open drawers I fear it will collapse under his grip. His eyes are ablaze with anger and frustration. And something else.
I shake under his gaze, reaching for my pants instead. My hair drips down my back, soaking my shirt. "I wasn't doing anything." I say, meek even to my own ears. "What exactly do you think I was trying to do?" I ask him, fisting my shirt in my fingers.
He scoffs, "Why were you-," his voice cracks with emotion taking us both by surprise. "Trying to-," he swallows his next words, his Adam's apple bobbing.
His head snaps to me and he nearly snarls at me. "You wanna leave me is that it! You want a way out, and death is the only way you can think of! Do you understand how selfish that is. Did you even think about how that would affect your family? Affect me?"
"I wasn't trying to commit suicide, Ptolemus!" I gasp standing to my feet, anger igniting in my chest.
"Then what were you doing?" He asks stepping closer, his hands fisting by my sides.
"Taking a bath!"
"A bath!" He scoffs with a shake of his head like he's disciplining a child.
"I was just...just trying to see how long I could hold my breath." I think.
He grinds his teeth and looks like he wants to shake me again. But he doesn't move.
"As if you care anyway!" I say before I can stop myself.
His head snaps up, "What?"
I slump back on the bed, suddenly the weight of gravity too heavy. "Is it me?" I ask and watch as his face shifts into realization. Tears bundle in my eyes. "Is this my fault?"
He nearly trips over his feet trying to clamber his way over. He falls to his knees, reaching for my hands. But I can't. All I can see is her. She fills my red dreams, as I gauge her eyeballs from her head.
"None of this is your fault Belle," he swallows, more emotion in his eyes than I've ever seen before. "Please."
"Do I not please you anymore?" I ask my voice raising a little. The prospect of Wren at my mercy, fills me with glee and anger all the same.
"Isabelle I told you-," he starts reaching for me again.
I jerk away. "Tell me! How long has this been going on! Before we even left the capitol? Before we even meet. I'm I just a game? Another body for you. Is your love even real!"
He slams his hands down on the bed, every metal trinket on my drawers, vanity, and just about all around the room, flying from its spot and crashing to the carpet in a noisy clatter. But he doesn't look angry. He looks the exact opposite.
He leans in close, so close that I can't help but look him in the eye. "I understand your doubt, Isabelle. But don't ever question my love for you."
I swallow as warmth spreads in my body. It surprises me. That even when I'm at crossroads with him, my attraction, my pure primal need for him had not faltered.
"I'm sorry," I squeak out. Despite all that's between us, I know, I've always known he loves me. The validation is found in the way he looks at me. The way he's always looked at me.
But I see him too. With Wren.
I wipe my eyes, pushing him back a little. He complies, but doesn't go far. "But do you love her too?"