cannibal; kendall roy

Nobody is Ever Missing.

Although Kendall hadn't explicitly been in the same room as Marguerite for the rest of the night, his mind had been on her the whole time.

Consistently wondering what all he didn't know about the woman he kept so close to himself throughout life.

Last night, he had seen her practically break down over a series of texts she'd had downloaded to her phone, which were seemingly diary entries written by her deceased father, Louis Garnier.

By the time Kendall had actually returned to his room—and to the sleeping girl next to him, he found himself returning to her phone, unlocking it gently with her face and then reading through all the contents of the her files.

Which seemed to all consist of things pertaining to her father, or items written by her father.

He personally didn't give a shit about Louis Garnier, and was more concerned with what the passages of text had the capability of doing to the woman sitting next to him, who had previously professed to him that she had 'killed her own father' through her own inattentiveness and inability to see his own suffering.

Kendall called that bullshit.

Especially as he read, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of man would do any of this. No wonder Marguerite had hated him so much while he had been alive.

He'd been closed off purposefully and kept his daughter in a different country, and acted surprised when she chose to act or live differently to him. He'd understood Louis Garnier's depression and grief to an extent, but what he was reading obviously consisted of more than such.

It wasn't grief, it was fucking mental illness.

Finally, Kendall put the phone down on the closest nightstand and had curled up next to Marguerite, trying to hold her as close to him as possible.

What the fuck do you even do in a situation like this?

Kendall was by no means an expert in any type of healing, or therapy, but as he lay there, he worriedly let his thoughts bulldoze him.

But tomorrow, or rather today, was his sister's wedding.

The day his reign was supposed to begin, and the day his takeover would start, and yet the man felt exceedingly nervous as his hands played with her hair, taking a layered piece of the puzzle and twisting it in his hands.

And then, Marguerite had rolled over, her eyes wide open as she looked at Kendall, a soft smile on her face before she leaned in to kiss him a little, feeling his hands down down her side. "Hi—"she whispered "How do you feel?" She asked, as if the only thing on her mind was either the wedding or the bear hug.

As if last night had never fucking happened.

"How do you uh—How are you fucking feeling?" Kendall asks, sitting up and looking down at her "It uh—It got a little intense last night. Do you want to talk about it?"

She frowns "What do you mean?"

He sighs "Nothing. It's nothing. I'm sure it'll be fine."

He didn't even know how to address it anyway.

"What?" Marguerite asks, following suit and sitting up "Did something happen?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess. The letter got bumped up to today, and uh—Are you don't remember any of last night? Any of it?" He asks, tilting his head a little bit

"I remember" she stops for a minute and then laughs "Shit. What do I remember? I think I had too much to drink" she nudges him gently "You should've cut me off."