Decorum | ONC 2023 Shortlister

Chapter Three

It continued like this for some time. Abigail would visit Victor, but he refused to speak to her. Any attempt she made to connect was met by an absent gaze or a patient request to be left alone. The most that she was able to observe was the agitated way which Victor seemed to respond to the food that Hannah brought him. On most days he would simply stare at the plate of food, on others he would push it away. When he did eat, it was out of view of others and was made known only by the sparse emptying of his plate.

Only twice was Abigail actually sitting with him when he'd eaten. The first time, she had taken up residence in one of the library turned living quarter's chairs and was skimming a book on ancient Roman architecture. It was incredibly dry to her, but so too were the books of poetry and dramas that filled Victor's place of refuge. She had just finished reading a page on triumphal arches when she caught a glance of Victor from over the top of her book. He sat staring at the bowl of soup Hannah had brought up with his elbows on the table and hands clasped before his face. Tapping his knotted hands to his lips, he stared with incredible conflict at the food. Eventually, he ceased his tapping and bent his forehead to his hands, and for a moment it almost appeared to Abigail that he was praying. She watched him, knowing nothing about Victor's religion. Perhaps he, like her, even lacked one entirely.

After a long pause in which Victor's leg continued to bounce restlessly, he brought a spoonful of soup to his mouth and proceeded with an unreasonable amount of pauses to finish the entire bowl. When the bowl had been emptied, Abigail watched as Victor wrapped himself in a blanket and moved himself to his chaise lounge where he stayed for the rest of the day, staring out the window. The second time Abigail observed him eat was so much like the first that she wondered if perhaps she was reliving a moment of déjà vu. 

But she came to know that this was, in fact, a separate occurrence, for this time, upon watching Victor at his chaise lounge, she caught the gleam of sunlight on the tears that had collected around his eyes. Victor's face had remained unmovable and stoic, and Abigail had watched him from atop the pages of The Tragedies: A Collection of Scholarly Essays. At one point, Victor had wiped the tears from his face, but when he looked back to his silent companion, he found her eyes thoroughly preoccupied with a chapter on Hamlet.

Beyond the few times that Victor had allowed Abigail to remain in his chambers, she hardly ever saw him. It was still too early for her to push, and she found that the more space Victor was provided with one day the more he was willing to keep her company the next. So Abigail learned very little about Victor during that first month, and instead she found herself wandering the dreary halls of Blackwell Manor.

It was on the third week however, sometime around three, that Abigail was awoken by a vigorous banging at her door. Jumping from sleep, Abigail fumbled with the light beside her bed before stumbling hurriedly across the room. It wasn't until she was nearly upon the door that she recognized Hannah's voice shouting at her from the other side.

Abigail yanked open the door, "What? What's happened?"

"It's Victor." Hannah panted. "He's done it again."

"Done what?"

But Hannah was already rushing towards the third floor, and Abigail hastened after her. The two women flew up the stairs, but upon reaching the library door, they found that it was locked.

"Victor?" Hannah called. "Victor unlock the door."

A loud crash responded from inside the library, and Abigail glanced wide-eyed at her companion.

Abigail stepped forward, "Victor?"

Another bang sounded from inside the room, but this time Victor shouted over it.