Do Not Go Gentle

Chpater 9

{ Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." }
- Edgar Allen Poe

〰〰〰〰

Eight days later, as the sun crested beyond the distant, misty mountains, I felt at peace that the day had ended. But now, as I sit facing the wallpaper of the lonely dining room, I long for the said sun that had set those hours ago. The pattern of this wallpaper seems unnervingly busy to me, and I finally have to tear my eyes away from it. There is so much bothering me... so much muddled information swimming inside of my head, I fear that the recent murders shouldn't possibly be solved by me. Of course, the Yard is my competition.

I sometimes wish for time to stop, or for the sky to open up and swallow me whole; leaving not a memory in my wake. I must dig up the bones, but leave the soul alone, I presume... a nearly impossible task. Of course, with me being paired with the incomparable Phantomhive butler, we have gathered two suspects; the former third being ruled out yesterday. She was a scullery maid... one whom had led us to believe that she was not human. The only two left are a "man" called by the name John Brown (the queen's butler himself), and one Grell Sutcliffe.

Mr. Brown has been suspected only because of his minute ability to seemingly appear in multiple locations at once. One account of this had occurred the night of the Queen's recent birthday banquet, when many had been thought to have seen him escorting Victoria in the ballroom as well as circling the gardens and attending to the flowers. Or, at least, that's what Sebastian told me. Many incidences akin to this have happened in the past, so I have no reason not to believe him when he tells me this... for John surely is not human to begin with. Now, Mr. Sutcliffe is an entirely different story. His intense (blood) lust for my butler is not at all deniable, as he has attempted to murder Sebastian on numerous occasions. This fact, along with his reckless behavioral patterns, make him a prime suspect. Of course, it is still possible that these two are working together.

So, here I sit; contemplating everything as supper cooks in the kitchen beside me. The swinging double-doors open and out strides the puzzling servant of mine. I sigh, shifting and sitting up straighter. He sets a plate of thinly sliced pork, potatoes and broccoli in front of me.

"Here we have the most tender pork I could find, sir... accompanied with potatoes cooked in an onion, garlic and thyme sauce along with steamed and buttered broccoli."

He recites, and I know it must be tiring to do so... especially when I will barely touch it before retiring to be bathed and dressed for bed. For my appetite is never fully comprehendible to me... with sadness lurking in every corner and recess of my mind.

But, you see, I need sadness... for it is the only thing I feel anymore. I need desperation and corruption, for it is all my parents left me... all I have left to cling to. This sadness, anger and heartlessness are my legacy, now. I feel as though Sebastian knows this... can sense it... perhaps, even, feeds off of it... for his aura is so elusive. He stares at me, his ghostly red eyes almost glowing... reflecting off of his lashes and spreading across his cheeks with a foul sort of air, though endearing as ever. I grumble a response to his presentation, tearing my own eyes away as my heart and hands begin to flutter with frustration.

I eat in silence as he stands dutifully by my side with the gold plated platter sitting snugly under his left arm. As predicted, I don't finish, but instead push it away. He brings me a slice of chocolate cake and I eat most of it, knowing that it is a rare treat. Before I stand, I signal him to escort me upstairs. Every step I take sounds like a requiem to my unavoidable demise... my unavoidable abyss I settle into once white sheets and pillowcases are snugly wrapped around my dreams as I slip in and out of consciousness.

I suppose insomnia is reasonable enough for me; a warning to my mind not to allow me to become paralyzed by my subconsciousness. Though, I do long for sleep's peaceful embrace... at least I do until I remind myself that sleep hasn't been peaceful since it's initial interruption six years ago.

"Run me a bath."

He nods as we enter my suite, and I make my way over to sit at the edge of my bed solemnly... awaiting his next move. I do not feel as though I am playing the master, anymore.

I hear the water starting to run in the distant recesses of my mind. I entwine my fingers in to knots in my lap and my starched collar digs into my neck and shoulders as I try to untie the knot on my eyepatch. Sebastian returns to undress me, lifting my fragile body off the bed. My skin feels like an open wound wherever he touches me; oversensitive and vulnerable. Yet I know he will not do anything to harm me as I am carried into the bathroom and briefly set on the floor where I stand. He turns the water off, checking the temperature before reaching for me again. I shake my head, refusing him as I step into the warn water myself. For a moment, I wonder if I should not trust him the way I do, and if he has, perhaps, spilled a gallon of bleach or arsenic into the water along with the fragrances and soaps. But I still enter it willingly... just as I always do.

I sink down into the ivory tub, my entire body almost covered with the water. Sebastian removes his tailcoat and gloves, rolling his sleeves up and exposing our contracted mark that is almost glowing ominously in the light of the room. I stare at the tiles adorning the wall in front of me. The little diamond-shaped things seeming to move as soon as you tear your gaze away from the blue and white. They're like a much smaller, blue version of the black and white checkered floor beneath us... the floor Sebastian is kneeling on.

His hands swoop across my chest and back... running through my hair and making sure no soap gets into my eyes.

"Lean back."

I do, letting him rinse the shampoo from my hair and shoulders. And it all seems so relaxing to both of us, as if in this moment neither of us have to think bout anything except the way that his hands are so soft against my skin... because it is all too acceptable for him to touch me like this now. I hope he does not notice the way I slightly lean into his touch.

And then, it's as if a spell lifts from a both. He pulls the plug of the bath, and it seems as though he is also pulling the plug of the atmosphere... for suddenly I am very cold. But he lift me up again, wrapping a towel around my drying body and carries me to my bed. He dresses me, the white, unstarched muslin fabric draping across my shoulders and legs comfortingly. I sigh.

I do not want him to go. I want to simply reach out and pull him to me... though there is absolutely nothing simple about that desire. But I imagine how wonderful it would be if, perhaps, we could travel to a far away world where he is not a demon... where he is not butler and I am not a sad, small child in seek of affection. I imagine this world where everything is so, so simple... and it could be perfectly clear to me that he loves me the way I am sure I love him. Yes... the water runs blue over a cliff made of everyone whom I have done wrong... and they forgive me. The wind here is not filled with voices and echoes from the past, and the insect's wings are made of pure, crystalline, salt. I realize this place I am imagining must be heaven, and I remind myself that I am not destined there, but rather to that place behind Sebastian's eyes where everything is full of the fire he has set and he finally has enveloped me... finally suffocated me... snuffed me out. To me, heaven does not exist, and neither does the possibility that I can "simply" reach out to him.

I lay back, turning to my side and not facing him as he pulls the covers over my nearly trembling figure. He must feel me shaking. he must know how much I want him... and oh, how I want him. I want him to hold me while I fall asleep... and I tell myself that I will indulge only if tonight is the rare occasion when he offers to stay with me.... to lay with me as i fall asleep, for he knows that I crave him; his arms around me.

"Would you like me to stay with you, then?"

I nearly laugh at that, though I nod my head in gratitude. It eludes me how he reads my every move so easily... how he seems to know what I am thinking, feeling, wanting, knowing... how he seems to know everything and use it to bend me to his will, or to simply know. I do not know anything about the compounds of where his mind takes him, though... and so I simply let him lead me.

He slips down beside me, not bothering to attain the attire he removed in the bathroom beforehand. He wraps his arm around me, pulling me to him. I try resist the urge to melt... to sink into him. But I do. I move closer. Happenings such as this are never, ever discussed, and I am thankful for this as I shamelessly turn to nuzzle his neck, wrapping my arms around him, as well. The world seems to stop. He holds me tighter.

And I fall asleep.

I do not want him to go... he holds me tighter.

He holds me tighter.