What do you think??
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I was laying on the ground, stomach down, and my arms outstretched in front of me. I pressed my palms into the carpet, spread out my fingers, and brushed my hands from side to side. It was a way of entertaining myself, and it was quite sufficient.
I could feel the disapproving eyes of my guardian--- my cousin Gerard--- staring deeply into the back of my skull. He hadn't been taking my recent seclusion well. He didn't like that I spent most of my time inches from the wall, staring into its faint grooves. Currently, I was staring into the fireplace.
But, he didn't understand; couldn't understand. Ever since that night the secret weighed heavily upon my heart. I feared that if I opened my mouth, if I faced a living human being and attempted to be socialable, I would instantly tell. I knew I couldn't, however. I could never speak a word to anyone. It would ruin my family. The secret was so dim that, if revealed, my future instantly would take on a view of utter blackness--- inky and lonely.
I shiverred slightly from the chill running through our modest cabin. We were out of logs though and, somehow, looking at the empty fireplace made the room feel colder than it actually was. When I received no response, I shiverred again, this time violently, hoping Gerard would drape a blanket across my shoulders, as he usually did. With no blanket, I breached my bodily isolation and looked over my shoulder; he was no longer in the room. My eyes narrowed in irritation, but I didn't look for him. I resumed my detatched position, trying to push the protruding secret from my mind. Instead, I went over again what my family had expected of me--- my motivation for the need of silence.
The Eddings family was high up in the country. We were quite wealthy and highly influential. Centuries ago, our legacy began with a fleet of simple merchants. Now, we were considered business moguels. It was due to this that our family turned my interest towards the bank. The Robertson family controlled the main banks in much of Western Europe and the Americas, and they most likely blackmailed several private ones. When their youngest son, Pierre Robertson, announced that he was seeking a bride, my family was eager to offer me up. And so, with my parents far to busy to parent me, I was placed under the care of my cousin Gerard, who lived near the Robertson estate.
Lord Robertson--- this was how he introduced himself--- had been courting me for a year. Truthfully, I loathed the man, ten years my senior. But I had a duty to my family, and I respected that.
At least, I used to think I respected that. Now... well, it was clear that I was far more attracted to other loyalties, such as the impulsive emotions of my inner mind.
Lord Robertson was going abroad for a few months before returning home; at which time he would collect me to be his bride. My own family wouldn't be attending the wedding though. Of course, now there was no nuptails to attend.
Unbeknowedst to my family, I had murdered Lord Robertson.
It was relatively easy to accomplish. After the initial flinch at the sickening crack of bone, it became almost enjoyable. So, invigorating, to see that pompous smile fall into doubt and pain. My mind lit afire at the thought. How I wished he wasn't dead--- so I could do it all over again. Slower this time, more deliberate. More time to enjoy it...
No. I couldn't think about it in the presence of others. Nightime was the time for reliving the experience. Now, the best thing I could do was to empty my mind, and hide the secret from my ever eager lips.
I began to move my hands in circles now. Counterclockwise. Clockwise. Back and forth. Rhythmic. Predictable.
"Natalie?"
My hands froze at my cousin's call.
"It's time to go now. Are you ready?"
My fingers clawed into the carpet and my body tensed. He was going through with it after all...
Gerard had acquired the idea that my unresponsiveness could be solved by our leaving for a different view. We were heading into the country, a small town called Luxen, to stay with an old family friend. He hoped the change in scenery would breathe some life back into my demeanor. I knew he would have to remain hopeful.
The dutiful side of my brain instantly prepared for by body to rise. However, this gave the other side, the side gleeful with recent murder, time to bubble up into my throat, ready to explode at a moment's notice.
I swallowed hard, fighting my inner self. I could not afford to indulge its wild behavior. I was a lady of the Eddings estate. A better disposition was expected of me. And so, I couldn't move. Not without spilling my dark tale, or perhaps violently lashing out at my very flesh and blood before me. No, I had to lie perfectly still. Detatched and safe.
Gerard grabbed my arm and hoisted me off of the ground painfully. I cried out, astonished that my voice could create such a foreign yelp, and he loosned his grip. But, when I didn't walk on my own, he marched me outside to our carriage, where my bags awaited--- packed and ready.
After he loaded the cargo, he opened the door to the coach and lifted me in gently. He waved at our driver and entered as well, sitting across from me and crossing his legs like a lady (I often scolded him for such behavior. It was not a manly way to sit).
