Trigger Warning: chapter contains abusive relationships and mention of suicide.
She paused, glancing across at me. After a moment, she shook her head. "I haven't been lying to you, Ophelia."
"Yes, you have. What you told me before, about Jackson, and about Blake. You've been lying to me." I said, frustrated.
She shook her head. "What I told you before, that was all true. At least in some ways."
"What about Amelie?" I asked bitterly. She let out a small sigh.
"I'll get there, I promise. Let me just explain." She said. "What I told you before was the truth. It just wasn't the whole truth."
She hesitated, and I shook my head.
"Gwen, I'm sick of the lies, and the half truths. Just give me a straight answer for once."
"Okay," she said. "I swear, I'm trying. Just... I don't know where to start."
I shook my head and took a deep breath.
"Start with your son. Who's the father?"
She looked hesitant and I sighed. "Gwen," I urged.
She gave in.
"When Blake and I started... seeing each other, there was a boy at school that was interested in me. One day, when I was feeling really confused about Blake, I opened up to him about it. I didn't tell him much, just that there was a guy that was interested in me but he was older than us and I didn't know how to feel."
"Right, because Blake was a fucking predator."
"Ophelia," she sighed. "He wasn't-"
"Just continue the story, Gwen," I interrupted, not wanting to go into her denial when she seemed to be really open with me for the first time possibly ever.
"Right, well," She said, "This boy, who I told about Blake, he got upset. He didn't think it was right that someone older was into someone younger, thought that it seemed wrong. I pushed him away, chalked it up to jealousy. I cut him off like the rest of my friends, because we couldn't risk them finding out the truth about Blake and I, and us not being able to see each other anymore."
Red flag, I thought. But instead of voicing this thought I just nodded, filing this away in the 'Blake is a masterful manipulator' folder I'd started creating in my brain.
"Anyway, fast forward a few years, and I was working as a secretary in Blake's company. Blake's father passed away, and he went to a bad place, so we weren't doing very well. And in the midst of all this, I run into that boy in a coffee shop in town," then, to make sure I knew who she was talking about, she clarified, "the boy from high school, that is."
I nodded. That much was pretty clear. Again, I don't voice my thoughts.
"We did the small talk thing, asked how we'd been since high school and all that, and then when he asked how I was going, I cracked," she stopped here, looking guilty and sad at the same time. After a few moments, she kept going. "It's just- well, life with Blake had just been so hard, and I had no one to talk to except him. So when I finally got the chance to let it out, I couldn't control it."
I felt like I wanted to console her, but I didn't know how. So I just let her keep going, listening and looking at her while she spoke so she knew I was.
"He invited me back to his place, some college dormitories down the street, to talk and vent in private. So I went, and he let me talk. One thing led to another and... I slept with him. Afterwards, I knew I should have felt guilty for cheating on Blake. But I mostly felt relieved. I got to let a little bit of my frustration out. So when the boy invited me over again on a Friday night, I took him up on the offer. Blake was out a lot because of events. Charity galas and birthday parties. He didn't let me come to them, even though I was almost twenty then. I was still too young, it wouldn't be a good look for him. So I could sneak out pretty easily without him knowing."
"So it wasn't just the once?" I asked. She shook her head.
"No. And, I know how it sounds but it wasn't a relationship. The boy, he knew I loved Blake, and I wasn't going to break up with him. But he made me feel things I hadn't felt with Blake. Sneaking around, always cautious, doing something we weren't supposed to be doing. It was exhilarating. Then, it wasn't."
She let out a weak sigh, focusing her gaze on the dishes. "My relationship with Blake started going downhill. It was the stress of the company, and trust issues, and grief. Blake said that I was different to when we first started dating. That I'd changed, and he no longer wanted to be with me. But I didn't want to break up. I loved him. I still love him."
Even though the words were strong, her voice was weak. It was difficult to believe her.
"We went on a break. He said it wasn't a break-up, but that it would give us time to figure things out. I was miserable. I didn't know what to do. So I turned to the other boy. He made me feel better if just for a little while at a time. I'm not proud of it, but he helped me cope."
She glanced down the hall, her eyes faraway. After a few moments, I prompted her.
"What happened?"
She snapped out of her trance and glanced at me. After a moment she let out a sigh and leant against the bench, her hands wet with soapy water. "Well, I didn't get my period, and I hadn't been with Blake since before the last one. I took a pregnancy test, and sure enough, I was pregnant."
She stopped, silent for a moment as she collected herself. I hesitated, then parted my lips to urge her on.
"What did you do?" I asked.
She blinked away tears and looked up. "I did the right thing. I told Blake."
"How did he take it?" I asked softly. She shook her head, looking back down again.
"Not well. He fired me, told me to get out of his life, to go off and find someone else. But I couldn't. I felt too guilty and too attached to him. I couldn't let him go. So I begged him to take me back. I told him I would do anything he asked of me, that I would never look at another man again, and that he could adopt my child as his own. Because he is a good guy, he took me back. Bought this house, and moved us out here, away from the distractions of other men. We moved in just before I had Jackson."
She sighed, her voice getting quiet. "I expected everything to fix itself then, but it didn't. Blake was distant and cold towards me. Looking after Jackson was overwhelming and impossibly hard. On top of that, I was isolated. I couldn't reach out to anyone, I was too far away, and I hardly had any friends left. Life just kept getting harder and harder."
She took a shaky breath, looking sideways at me. "The master thing was my idea. I thought, maybe if we did something exciting, something different, then I might feel something. Blake might feel something. And it worked for a bit. Every time I did something he didn't like, he would punish me for it. When we were roleplaying, he would call me Iris. He enjoyed it, at least, and I was finally feeling something, even if it was just pain."
She paused, letting out a puff of breath before continuing. "But as time went on, Blake's punishments got more extreme, less like punishment and more like torture. He stopped calling me by my name, at all. It scared me. So, I tried to get out. I tried to run. But he found me, and brought me back, and punished me. He beat me so hard that I thought he was going to kill me. But he didn't. When it was over, he began to coax me back to health, and we didn't talk about it. But it was clear that something was broken between us."
I bit my lip, beginning to understand, her words echoing what she had told me already before. It was all starting to lock into place. There was never an Amelie. She was Amelie.
"He stopped hitting me while I recovered. He stopped talking to me. He flew his mother into town, and she looked after Jackson, and he kept me downstairs. In his hell. Just waiting, unable to do anything but heal. And I got sad. The pain was impossible. Both outside, but also inside. I was hurt, and I didn't think I'd ever be able to fix it. So I started hoarding painkillers, and one day, I took them all at once."
She stopped, her voice too thick with emotion to continue. I gently took her hand and opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I didn't know what to say. She looked up at me and shook her head, gently pulling her hand from mine.
"Blake found me before it was too late and flew me to a private hospital. They had my stomach pumped and put me on an IV. When I was well enough, they put me into therapy. Rehab. It helped, but it was also hard. I couldn't tell anyone what was going on, because they wouldn't understand. The doctors wanted me to tell them how I was feeling, what had happened, but I wouldn't. Eventually, they had no choice but to let me go. Blake brought me home, and I met Jackson again for the first time in months. Hugging him, I felt so selfish, and I told myself that I would never leave him again. And I haven't."
She looked up and then across at me. I wondered if she was done, but after another moment, she kept talking.
"When I was back, Blake said that he didn't want to keep punishing me the way he had been, but he needed something else. He also thought that if there were someone else here to focus on, someone I could be friends with, then maybe I would be happier. And I agreed. So, he came up with a plan."
Her eyes gleamed with tears, and she took a shallow breath. She looked up at me, and I could see the remorse in her eyes. My stomach began to twist, knowing where this was going but not wanting to hear it.
"He would find the right person. Wait for the right moment. Then take them. Bring them here. Blake could carry out his fantasies. I could look after them. Eventually, they would be happy here. I never expected for it to turn out this way, Ophelia. I didn't. But now you're here, I can't help but feel better. You make me feel better."
She reached out to take my hand, a sad smile playing across her face. I pulled my hand away, flinching away from her touch. My mind was spinning, and my stomach was twisted in knots.
Gwen's face softened, and she tried again to reach out and take my hand. Once again, I tried to pull away, but her grip was too strong. In a soft voice, she whispered. "I love you."
I bit my trembling lip and closed my eyes, feeling my heart pound in my chest.
"No," I managed to whisper, "You don't."
Her face fell, and her lip began to tremble. "I do, Ophelia. Please, I do."
I shook my head and blinked away tears, finally managing to wrench my hand away from hers. Feeling hurt and angry, I began to massage my wrist, focusing my gaze on the dirty dishes still sitting beside the sink.
"If you loved me, you would have never helped him do this to me," I said, my voice cold and detached. "You wouldn't have hit me over the head with a lamp when I tried to escape, and sold me out to him when you had nothing to gain."
When I looked up, Gwen's face was creased in hurt. Good. She should feel hurt. She had lit a fuse within me, and I couldn't help the anger coursing through my body. I drove the wedge in further. "You're so fucking manipulative, Gwen. You don't love me. You're jealous of me. Because he's made you so sick and twisted to constantly want his attention. And with me around, you can't get it."
"That's not true," she said, her voice hurt. "I love you."
"No you fucking don't," I hissed. "You hate me. And guess what, Guinevere."
And I knew I was poking the bear, but I couldn't help myself. So, I spat,
"I hate you too."
It was like those words stripped away the last shred of humanity from her.
Her eyes went dark.