Amelia

006.

She beat her fists against the back of the door desperately, hoping that someone would come and release her from the dark, cramped prison she was being held captive in, but no one came. Finally, she sank back and clutched her knobby knees to her thin chest where the sets of bottom ribs poked through the thin shirt she was wearing. The dark enclosed her, wrapped around the child in a close embrace, almost like a friend; but to Amelia it was much more sinister. Shadows, darkness; it had always scared her, so Mark often enough used it against her when he felt like punishing her or making her hurt.

Despite how much he had hurt her, made her cry and what torments he filled her mind with, she couldn't help but love him. After all, he was the only person in her enclosed life that really had ever shown any sort of affection for her, despite Charlie of course. She had been taught to love and respect him, so love and respect him she did. She didn't know any better. He loved her and she loved him, that's all there was to it.

"Mark..?" She tried again.

Silence, she was greeted by nothing but complete, utter silence.

Meanwhile, Mark was seated downstairs at the head of the dining room table, surrounded by plates piled high with steaming eggs, crisp bacon and fluffy pancakes, while servants stayed on standby on hand and foot, waiting for him to give out the smallest command. He had barely even touched his food, he had been spending the last 15 minutes pushing food around on the white, pristine plate while glaring off into nothingness. Charlie had been watching him from across the table, taking in his every move.

"Where is Amelia?"

Mark cast him a glare and took a long sip of his steaming coffee, "Doesn't matter."

"You shoved her into that linen closet again, didn't you? Damn it, Mark. You know she hates the dark!" He shouted and stomped away from the table and ran upstairs.

"Fucking hell.."

He left the kitchen, stomping out in an angry huff and continued his tirade on through the back hall until he came to the back patio where he leaned against the dark, wooden railing and withdrew a long, white cigarette from his pocket. He lit the cancer stick, the light from the orange and yellow flame jumped across his face, magnifying his broad features darkly. Taking a long, deep drag, he closed his eyes and let his muscles relax, the wooden railing supporting all of his weight. It creaked and groaned as he set his broad hips against the rough surface.

He felt guilty, for subjecting Amelia to her own mind; letting her fears take over. But then, at the same time, he felt nothing whatsoever. Conflicted feelings took over his mind and imagination, distorting his thoughts, his perception on reality and dragging him to a far away place dominated entirely by his thoughts. He was lost inside himself.

"Mark!" Came Charlie's shout, resounding from the living room, or hallway. Who knows where he was now.

"Oh, fuck off.." He ground the now-nub of a cigarette into an ashtray sitting nearby on a patio-table and trudged back inside.

He ignored Charlie's shouts and continued on, back into the kitchen and sat back down in a huff.

"Mark, don't ignore me." Charlie growled, his arm draped around Amelia's thin, frail body; holding her close to him. The poor girl's face was streaked with dried tears and she was visibly shaking. She looked absolutely terrified, her eyes wide with fear and terror.

"Don't touch her."

"You locked her in a fucking closet. In the dark.. What in the world were you thinking?" Charlie snapped, holding her closer to him. She buried her face in his shirt, still shaking and trembling like a feather in the eye of a hurricane.

"Shut up and get your arm off of her!" He hollered, eyes flashing with a fiery lightning that burned brighter than any flame a lighter could muster.

Amelia turned around and ran; her instincts taking over and telling her to run, get away. She knew what would happen, Mark was angry and he would take it out on the closest eligible thing or person nearby. Her.

"Get back here, you little shit!"

"Mark, calm down. She didn't do anyt-"

"You, shut the fuck up. I'll put a bullet in your damned skull if you don't just shut up!"

"I won't let you hurt her."

"Watch me."

She could hear the few, scattered noises of a scuffle of some sort, punches flying and curses sworn. But she kept moving, kept running. She knew better than to stop, better than to hide in the usual places, he'd only find her. He always did. He knew her better than she did herself, he knew her mind, fears, dreams, everything.

"AMELIA!"

She let out a whimper and ran up the stairs, tripping over her own, feet more often than not. She knew a certain slave or servant would catch her, grab her and drag her down to Mark's feet, in return for favoritism and good feelings. She was used as a token most of the time, caught by the others and returned to Mark, hoping for something good in return or caught in the act of a made up story, hoping that by turning her in, he'd somehow favor them above the others. It always happened, she knew it'd happen again this time.

She ran into one of the bathrooms, shut the door tightly behind her and huddled next to the porcelain tub, knees held tightly under her quivering chin, eyes fleeting and darting madly about the room.

"AMELIA, ANSWER ME." She heard his voice again, sounding much closer this time. He wasn't far away, at least in the hallway she had just crawled through.

"She ran into the bathroom.."

"Fucking..."

He stomped down the hallway, right towards where she was hiding, crouched on the pristine tile of the large, spacious bathroom.

"I'M SORRY!" She screamed as he ripped the door open and strode over to her in two, long, quick steps. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her off the ground quickly. He pushed her against the wall, holding her there by her neck.

"You're going to regret it, you little whore. He's been fucking you, hasn't he? I see how he looks at you, lust. Does he touch you, Amelia? Do you like it? DO YOU LIKE IT WHEN HE TOUCHES YOU, YOU FUCKING SLUT?!"

She began to cry and tear at his hands that were wrapped tightly around her delicate throat. She couldn't understand what he was screaming at her, what he was accusing her of. She didn't understand a single word, all she knew was that he was very, very angry. Why, she didn't know.

"W-what?" She choked out through the strangled sobs.

"Don't play stupid with me, Amelia! I know he's fucking you!"

Her vision was beginning to go fuzzy and her head was pounding from lack of oxygen, she was about to pass out at any given moment. Vaguely, she heard footsteps and Charlie's voice in the distance, but even that was wavering.

"Mark, let go of her!"

Before she knew what happened, his hands were torn away from her throat and Charlie was screaming at Mark, pinning him against the wall while trying to get him to shut up and calm down. He was trying to lunge at her, trying to fight back against the grip Charlie held on him.
She had fallen to the floor and was now swaying back and forth over the line of consciousness.

"I'll fucking kill her, I swear.."

"Amelia, go." Charlie mumbled, still pinning Mark against the wall by his shoulders.

She held her head in her hands and tried to clear her head as she slowly crawled out of the room, staying as far away from Mark as possible. He tried to kick her, but he barely missed and she bolted, running down the hallway and nearly fell down the stairs.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!."