Cicatrice

Chapter XXXII

QUEEN ESTELLE BELSHAW

With my eyes fluttering open softly and my ears coming back from the universe, I forget what kind of situation I was in. It definitely wasn't one where I could take my time getting dressed and making some chamomile tea. I would be fighting for my life. 

"Get off of her!" I hear a familiar voice growl, plunging at Malcolm. I use this quick second to catch my breath, sitting up on my elbows with sweat running down my forehead. With confusion circling my head, my heart quickly skips a beat as I realise it's Eddie who came to my rescue.

I watch as the two men fight for the rusty dagger.

"Stop it!" I squeal, tears rolling down my cheeks as Malcolm rolls on top of Eddie, his teeth gritted together. Malcolm throws a punch towards Eddie's strong jaw, drawing blood to his cheek. With Eddie viciously groaning, he dominates Malcolm, fighting his way on top of him as he throws vicious blows to his head. 

I'd never seen Eddie so angry, not even after he found out about the child. 

"Get off of me you bloody turd!" Malcolm growls through gritted teeth, and I worry for Eddie's life as he begins to struggle his dominant stance. My heart runs like a tractor. I couldn't bare for anything to happen to Eddie; not like this. 

And that's when it all happened; at once.

I watch with my raw eyes as Eddie lurches on top of Malcolm, his hands gripping the dagger tightly before he quickly plunges the knife deep within Malcolm's chest, Malcolm letting out a horrid shriek with pain. 

My shaking hands cover my mouth, tears racing down my face as I watch crimson red blood squirting merely everywhere. My head couldn't process what had just happened. 

Eddie's hands shake profusely as he drops the blood-soaked dagger, making a clanking noise as his eyes and lips widen with pure terror- what had he done? He was no killer. He collapses to the ground next to Malcolm's slowly decaying body, his eyes welling up with tears. 

Before I can comprehend it, Malcolm lets out a slight groan. "I know who you are, Eddie," he whispers, and shortly after, he takes his last breath, a singular tear rolling down his cheek, onto the hardwood floor, next to the pool of blood. 

With my knees held up to my chest, tears run down my cheeks as I stare blankly at Malcolm's lifeless body. It was too much for me to handle all in one night. Eddie rushes to me, kneeling to my aid and making sure I'm okay. "Este, Este, please look at me," his voice quivers as he cups my cheeks with each of his bloody, dirty hands. 

I couldn't look up at him. No matter how hard I tried. No matter how badly I wanted to.

"Good lord, I am so sorry," he whimpers, desperately kissing my cheeks and forehead, his hands interlacing with my hair before he lets go and begs on his knees, a plead of forgiveness on his face as he looks up at the ceiling. "Please God, I beg for your forgiveness!" he wails desperately. 

My heart shatters for him. This was all my fault, and now Eddie suffered blood on his hands.

The door rattles open to reveal Marguerite, a terrified look on her face as she gasps loudly. "What is the matter of this?" she hisses, her hands rising to her lips in pure shock. "M-Marguerite, it was an accident," I whimper, my lips quivering profusely. 

"He tried to kill her!" Eddie chimes. 

With her lips pursing, she stares at Malcolm's lifeless body, almost like she was examining him. All of a sudden she didn't look too worried, as a matter of fact, a look of darkness crossed over her plump face.

"Both of you, leave, immediately. I'll take care of this," she states calmly.

Eddie and I stare at her in bewilderment, speechless.

"Now!" she hisses, making us both jump to our feet and dash the scene, shutting the door behind.

I hate how I left Marguerite my messes. I felt like I had become such a problem to everyone around me, as if I were some sort of hurricane or tsunami, everyone became collateral damage or even worse. 

I was unsure where we would go, as we were both soaked with blood and as petrified as chickens, so I took us underground to the basement in which I hadn't been in years. On the whole way down there, we don't say a word to each other. It is as if nothing had ever happened. 

"Please, Estelle, let me take care of you. I'm sorry for what happened," Eddie whispers as I light a wax candle, dimming the place from the pitch darkness. I find myself being able to look at him. With his guilty eyes and frowning pout, my stomach form butterflies in which they hadn't formed in a while. 

I smile briefly, teary eyes. "I'm sorry too," I murmur. 

⁂

He lies naked in the lukewarm water, the grime and blood seething into the bathtub. With a damp rag, I caress his soft skin as if he was as delicate as a flower. 

I watch his chest as he breathes in and out, watching it expand and condense. He was a sight for sore eyes. "You really didn't have to run me a bath, you know that right?" he says, lifting an eyebrow as if the whole ordeal was ridiculous. "I know that," I shrug, squeezing the rag. 

I stare into his electrifying blue eyes that seemed to have held the weight of the world. "I wanted to," I admit. Perhaps it was my hormonal, pregnant side coming out, but,  I could handle the sight of death, could he? 

"I'm sorry about not telling you about the child," I continue, my eyes once again welling up with tears. "Don't apologise, Este. I understand," he soothes, his hand gracing my cheek. With a whimper being let out of my throat, I began to start feeling extremely grateful and emotional. 

"Thank you for saving my life, Eddie, I don't know why you did, but thank you," I wail like an idiot. 

"I'm afraid of what I might do for you, Estelle," he whispers.