"I'm Jackson, what's your name?" He asked me.
"I'm Ophelia." I said, feeling defeated. He tilted his head a little, frowning.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
I nodded, and smiled, pasting on a brave face so as not to upset him. "Of course. I just... I wanted to go for a drive, that's all."
He frowned at me, glancing outside.
"Daddy doesn't keep the cars outside in the snow. They're in the garage."
A spark of hope lit up within me. "Of course they are, how silly of me. Could you show me where the garage is?"
He paused, staring at me for a moment, before frantically shaking his head. "Mummy and daddy told me I'm not allowed downstairs without them."
Downstairs? Was the garage downstairs? I bit my lip, and spoke in the gentlest voice I could muster.
"That's okay, you'll be with me, won't you?" I asked.
He stared at me for a moment before frowning and turning around.
"No," He said. "You'll get me in trouble."
I bit my lip to contain my frustration. "I promise you won't get in trouble, your mummy told me to go driving."
He shook his head firmly. "No she didn't! Stop lying!" He said, raising his voice.
My heart raced in my chest and I hurried to shush him, glancing up the stairs. But it was too late. The damage was done.
"Jackson?"
Gwen pushed open the door to the bedroom upstairs and looked down from the landing, raking a hand through her hair casually. She looked at ease, completely at home with the fact that I was upstairs, and that I was awake with her son, who was now pouting angrily at me. She yawned and began padding down the stairs, revealing her see-through silk dressing gown, and the lacy pieces she was wearing underneath. I looked away, setting my jaw. She didn't seem to notice my discomfort, and began talking, as if this were a completely average morning.
"I'm sorry I slept so late, I was planning on getting up early to make pancakes."
"Pancakes!" Jackson squealed, beaming with excitement, all previous worries evaporated.
Gwen chuckled. "Yes, pancakes my baby boy. Do you want to help mummy?"
Jackson nodded enthusiastically and Gwen looked at me, smiling. When her eyes met mine, her smile faltered for a moment. She looked down, taking in the furry coat hanging over my arm. She frowned, and stepped toward me, glancing back up at my face.
"Why are you holding my fendi coat?" She asked.
I glanced down at it and shrugged. "It looked like the warmest and least-expensive option to flee in."
She snorted. Well that wasn't how I thought she would respond, given she hit me over the head with a lamp for trying to escape less than a week ago.
She saw my shocked face and shook her head.
"I'm sorry, it's just hilarious that you thought you grabbed the least expensive option. I mean... Ophelia, how much do you think that coat costs?"
"Maybe seventy? Or eighty dollars?" I said, feeling peeved. She gave me an incredulous look. "I don't know, it's a nice coat, I didn't mean to offend you or something–"
"Ophelia, really?" She smirked. "I mean, come on. It's Fendi. It's literally all over it."
"Am I supposed to know what Fendi is?" I asked, bitterly.
She smiled and reached forward, taking the coat from my hands. I didn't bother fighting. There was no point when I couldn't do anything with them anyway.
She took it across to the closet, found a hanger and put it away, then turned and held her hands out to pick up Jackson.
"Come on then, baby boy. Ophelia can help us too, hey?"
He glanced across at me then hesitantly nodded. Gwen smiled and lifted him into her arms, before turning to wander into the adjacent kitchen.
I pursed my lips and followed them, ignoring the annoyance and frustrating curiosity still inside me. Gwen set Jackson on a stool beside the island bench and hummed.
"Will we have banana pancakes or chocolate chip?" She asked Jackson. The little boy grinned.
"Chocolate chip!" He said excitedly.
Gwen smiled. "Alright, you're the boss."
She began pulling bowls and ingredients out and I just watched, not knowing what else to do. After a few moments, I cleared my throat and mustered up the courage to speak.
"Where is Blake?"
She stiffened, for a moment before shaking her head. "He's not here right now, Ophelia. He has work."
I frowned. "What happened last night? How come I am up here?"
She glanced at Jackson and set her jaw. "Let's talk about this later, Ophelia."
She was obviously trying to avoid talking about it around Jackson, who was watching us with a captivated curiosity.
I glanced at the little boy for a moment before slowly nodding. "Alright." I said.
She gave me a weak smile. "How about you go grab Jackson's markets, and you two can do some colouring in?" She asked.
"Alright." I said, giving Jackson a nervous smile. His face lit up.
"Go ahead, they're in his room down the hallway, in one of the cubbies closest to the door." Gwen said, and I nodded.
I moved past the kitchen and headed towards the room I had witnessed Gwen put Jackson to bed.
Sure enough, inside was filled with stuffed toys and kids furniture. Beside the door was a row of cubbies, and sure enough, when I looked in the closest one I found a big pencil case and a handful of colouring books.
I pulled them out and headed back to the kitchen.
Just as I was brushing past Jackson to put the colouring on the counter, I caught sight of something that made me stop in my tracks.
A purple and red bruise across the back of his neck.
Slowly, I set the colouring down on the bench, carefully reached over and lifted his curly hair to take a closer look. He paid no attention to my interest, instead choosing to focus on the colouring books I'd just given him.
The bruise was big, spreading across his neck like a hideous flower, resembling the shape of a hand.
My stomach churning, I withdrew my hand and looked up at Gwen. She wasn't looking, too focused on mixing ingredients to pay attention to her son.
I felt my ears burn and clenched my jaw.
Trying to contain my anger, I moved around the island into the kitchen. Gwen glanced up at me.
I pursed my lips. "We need to talk."
She shook her head, throwing a glance to Jackson. "Not with him around. Please, this isn't about him."
"This isn't about him?" I said, growing more and more angry. "This is entirely about him! Blake has been keeping him trapped here all this time, abusing the both of you, and he isn't even Blake's kid!"
"Don't say that, Ophelia." Gwen said, her voice pleading. "It's not your place to cast judgements."
I scoffed angrily. "I'm so sick of this! I'm sick you lying so much, and acting so secretive. What the hell is going on around here?"
"Ophelia-" she started, looking hurt but I cut her off.
"You know what? Forget it! I'm going back downstairs. At least down there I don't have to deal with you."
Before I could change my mind, I spun on my heel and stormed down the hallway. I wrenched open door to the basement and made sure to slam it once I was inside.
Then, my hand still on the handle, I deflated. Tears pulled to my eyes. The truth was, as much as I didn't want to be around Gwen, I couldn't bring myself to go back down to the basement.
Back down into my prison.
At least upstairs I could see the sun.
I heard a knock on the door behind me, and I jumped a little. I heard Gwen sigh, then speak in a tired voice.
"Ophelia, please come back up. I'll explain everything, just give me another chance." She pleaded.
I bit my lip. "Do you swear you will tell the truth? About everything?"
"Everything I know." She said, and something in her voice told me that she would.
So, slowly I opened the door again. She let out a soft sigh. "Do you want to talk now, or wait until after breakfast?"
I paused, thinking. After a moment I exhaled. "It can wait until after breakfast."
She nodded, and stepped back, letting me past her. I took a shaky breath and shuffled back to the kitchen, where Jackson was focused intently on his colouring, looking slightly worried, and a little scared. Gwen let out a sigh when she saw him.
"You don't have to fret baby boy, Mummy and Ophelia worked it out." She said, pushing his curls from his face and pressing a kiss on his forehead.
He looked up at her, then at me, thinking. After a moment his face softened. "Do you want to colour with me, Ophe- Ophel-phelia?" He asked, struggling to say my full name.
I couldn't help but smile. "Of course I do, Jackson. And if you want to, you can just call me Lia."
He nodded, looking relieved. "Okay Lia."
I sat down at the bench and he handed me a colouring book. It was covered in trains.
He opened it to a blank page and said, "You can do this one."
So I picked up a pen and started to colour in a train. As I sat there, a single question kept nagging at me.
So finally I built up the courage to ask it.
"Gwen, how much is that coat worth?"
"Probably about twenty five."
I blinked.
I don't think she means it was just twenty dollars.
"Do you mean to tell me..."
"You just tried to run away with a quarter of a hundred thousand dollars? Yes, Ophelia."
I dropped my pen. "But... why?"
Why does a coat cost that much, why are you being so nonchalant about this, why the hell am I colouring in with your son? These were all questions I wanted to ask.
But Gwen just shrugged.
"It's Fendi."