The Horrors of Montwood Mansion

Chapter Six

I felt her absence. It was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. You wouldn't need to run to the mirror to know they were gone.
~ James Dashner, The Scorch Trials (The Maze Runner, #2)

"You like it?", Larry asked as he devoured Olivia's neck like a ravenous lion hunting his first prey of the day.

"The flowers or this?"

"Both", he chuckled in the nape of her neck, making Olivia quiver.

It was Friday. Olivia had waited for this day with baited breath. She had checked off days in her calendar vehemently, like an amenable child opening her advent calendar chocolates piously. Larry had seemed cold and distant for weeks but she knew she could make him enamoured of her. She knew she'd be fine as long as she's engulfed in his warm embrace. Too bad for her, Larry often found embracing, embarrassing.

She had gotten up early, untangled her voluminous curls, traced her face gently with her mother's foundation-soaked makeup brushes. After she was done, she appeared like a young doppelgänger of her mother. Avery Rose and Olivia were indistinguishably alike. Whether it was her mother's blonde curls or the sumptuous poise she held as her fingers plucked the guitar strings, epiphany of notes cascading through the room, Olivia resembled her mother in more ways than her little sister ever could.

"Your hair has grown", groaned Larry, nuzzling into Olivia's neck.

"You like it?"

"Mhm."

"I got something for you."

"Really? What is it?", Larry tilted his head, beaming sheepishly.

"Ah, it's a painting. Here you go. Check it out."

Olivia took out her painting out of her bag and handed it over to Larry. He sat up straight as he held it in his hands, fervently taking it all in.
The painting indeed was bewitching. It unveiled a clean-shaved, hunky and well proportioned Larry holding an alluringly sumptuous Olivia, looking up at him. Her eyes clutching the poise of a bird in a nose trap; exhilarated, famished yet engulfed with a sense of trepidation, mustering up the courage to concede to its adversity. The background bore a lazy attire of a room of a couple who'd been living together for a while. The refrigerator in the background clutched a vague, unreadable list of tasks. Larry's face bore the resolute of a sole earner; his eyebags grey, years of tough grind making him appear to be tattered and old. The painting bore Olivia's coveted construction of their life.

"It's...beautiful", said Larry.

Olivia couldn't help but notice Larry stiffen.

"You don't like it? I thought you could hang it in your apartment?"

"Olivia...."

"What?", Olivia whispered, rigidifying.

"It's beautiful..but...I can't."

"What's wrong, Larry?"

"Look Olly, we need to talk."

"About what?", Olivia stiffened.

"I need you to listen to me carefully now. Okay?"

"What is it?"

"I don't think we should be doing this."

"What do you mean?", hurled Olivia as she swung away from him.

"It's not that I don't want to. I just can't."

"Why? What's going on, Larry?"

"Can I tell you?"

"Yes, of course."