(jaylor au) clandestine meetings in beautiful rooms

Linger Like A Tattoo Kiss

Mother immediately goes down and releases out guards from the cells. After that cars are sent out to bring back our guests. I wonder when father will return. Alexander takes me back to my room, holding my hand securely. Even when I want him to let go, he refuses.
"There's no way to tell if you killed him." Alexander tells me, as if that's the thing on my mind right now.
"Stop," I tell him. Once we've reached my room, I wrench my hand out of his. I walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.
I killed someone. I literally stabbed someone with a knife. Someone who was upset because we had already killed his daughter. He was a man, grieving for his daughter, a man wanting revenge for the love stolen from him. How could I do that? What part of me decided that stabbing him with a knife was the only option? And why... why didn't it feel bad? Why did a part of that feel like I'd been holding onto it for so long, and then I'd finally been able to let it go. To let that anger that's been burning deep inside of me finally explode. Perhaps this whole week has just been too much. Perhaps I'm losing who I was... but then again... did I know who I was in the first place?
"Let me in." Alexander says, knocking on the door. It's the first thing he's said to me where he actually sounds like he genuinely cares, and that annoys me more.
"Fuck off, Alexander." I tell him as I lean against the sink. I feel disappointed. Ashamed. Why did I do it?
"Don't do this to yourself. It's unnecessary." He just makes the fire within me grow.
"I said, fuck off. I don't want to speak to you." My words are cold, sharp and pointed.
"It will be cold in there," He sighed, as if knowing I will be here for a while. "At least let me get you a blanket."
"No, Alexander. I am perfectly fine. I most certainly do not want anything from you."
"No, you're not. You can't pretend like that."
"Just leave me alone."
"Taylor -"
"Leave, Alexander." I say, sitting down on the floor. My dress folds out, making me look tiny in the skirts of it. I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my knees around them.
I actually killed someone. Me. I was the one that stabbed him. How did I do that? How did I pick up that knife and-
"Taylor, you don't have to be like this." Alexander argues.
"Please, please just go."
"Fine then." He leaves, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

I crawl over to the bottom cabinet, where I remember I had put a bottle of alcohol - I'm not sure which type. I had put it there because the morning of my wedding, Blake had bought it for me, as a secret present, and I hadn't been able to think of a better place to put it.
I unscrew the lid and take a sip, hoping that it will help me to calm down.
It burns as it goes down my throat and my eyebrows knit together.  Perhaps if I have another mouthful I will feel better...
I don't even know why I did it. I could have pushed him, jumped on him. I could have hit him on the head... there were so many things I could have done that didn't mean death. But I killed him, and I didn't even think twice about it as I did it.

As I keep taking drinks, I start to feel warm and fuzzy, but this does not make the dark cloud inside my head become pearly white again. I want to take it back. I never wanted to kill someone. I never thought I could. Never thought that I'd be put in that moment, the moment where you have to make a decision that changes everything.
There's a knock on the door - but not the main door. It's the one belonging to that secret passageway. "Taylor," the voice calls gently.
"Go away!" I call out. I especially do not want to see Joe. I don't want him to know what I did. I don't want anyone to know what I did.
I take another drink, realising that I have nearly gone through half of the bottle, and realise that it hasn't burnt in a long time.
"I'm not going away! Let me in, please." He tells me softly.
"I can't talk to you right now." My words slur together. "I will be out soon."
"Well, Alexander said you were in there and were refusing to let anyone in through the door, so I thought that I'd try this one. Please, Taylor." He begs. "Taylor, please open the door."
"NO!"

Midnight has well and truly descended, and the room is dark, because I can't find the energy to get up and turn on the light.
"Taylor, I know what happened." His words a quiet, and I hate that he knows. "It wasn't your fault. You did what had to be done."
"I already told you," I say, standing up, and walking over to the door. "That I do not wish to be bothered. Leave me alone!"
"NO. I am not leaving. If I have to stand on the other side of the door listening to you until the morning, that's what I'll do."
"Noooo! I want to be alone!" I snap, but gently click open the door.
Joe pushes through the door, spots the bottle of alcohol in my hand - which is practically empty - and snatches it off of me.
"Alcohol isn't going to make you feel better."
"As a matter of fact," I say slowly, reaching for it again, "I feel great. Marvelous. In fact, I have never, ever been better."
"How much of this have you drunk?" He asks, taking my face in his palms. "A lot."
"Yes. I don't usually drink but-"
"Taylor, stop this-"