Black Iris

Careful moves

Trigger warning
Chapter contains emotional abuse and physical violence.

Iris

Less than 20 minutes after Ophelia left, there was a knock at my door.

Dragging my feet, I went across and opened it, trying to conceal how miserable I felt. Blake was leaning against the entryway, and gave a fake pout when he saw me.

"Naw, why the long face, baby? You didn't have a fun night?"

I bit my lip, stepping aside to let him in. "I'm not sure about this, Blake. It feels wrong to lie to her."

He scoffed. "Really? You're lying to the whole world, Gwen. What makes her any different?"

"I don't know. Because it's... Ophelia. It feels different." I said, shrugging.

"Well you didn't seem to have a problem with it before, baby," he pointed out, stepping closer so he was towering over me.

I swallowed, and shrunk away from him. In a quiet voice, I spoke. "Blake, I... I don't want to do this. Please."

He lifted a hand and gently touched my cheek. I leant into his touch, feeling relieved.

"That's okay, my pet. We truly hit a gold mine with what you've already done."

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"What she admitted last night, all that stuff about her tragic history? This is good for us, baby. We can use that against her in the trial."

I went cold, and immediately pulled away. I stared at him, searching his face, speechless.

"What is it, Guinevere?" He asked. "Cat got your tongue?"

"I... you... you bugged me?" I asked, breathlessly.

He smirked. "Oh, that? I did that when you first moved in, baby girl. I couldn't trust you not to scheme about me behind my back. We have to be on the same page, right?"

"Blake, this is my apartment, it's my home, that's an invasion of my privacy," I whispered, feeling overwhelmed.

"Wrong," He said, his face hardening. "This is my apartment. My home. You are just furniture, that can be moved out whenever you cost more than you're worth."

"Blake, I'm not-"

"Enough," he snapped. "I'm sick of the talking. I seem to remember you were in trouble last night, before the little vixen interrupted. Tell me, my Iris, did you have fun playing house?"

I frowned at him. "You tell me, you were listening in, right?"

He rolled his eyes. "Only for the important bits, baby girl. I don't make a habit of listening to your every waking moment. You cry far too much for that to be worthwhile."

"Are you surprised?" I muttered, exasperated. "You kidnapped my son."

He raised an eyebrow at me, and I bit my lip and shrunk away. "It seems that someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Or, should I say, couch."

"I'm sorry, sir," I said bitterly, attempting to reign in my anger. "It was a long night."

"Hmmm, but does that excuse misbehaviour, my pet?" He asked.

"No sir," I said through gritted teeth.

He gently touched my cheek and lifted my head so he was looking into my face. I could still feel the anger churning inside of me, but at the same time, it was mixing with something else. Fear.