Shackled In Sin | BxB

10. A Haze Of Delirium

TW: Brief Sexual Content

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BACK AND FORTH, BACK AND FORTH. I pulled against him, he pulled against me. I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be doing this, but I have to for Mary. It's all for Mary, I remind myself again.

All for Mary...

With a startling crack, blood seeps through the floorboards beneath the stained red carpet. His lifeless eyes stare up into mine, completely hollow. There is nothing inside them, not anymore. Only the reflection of their killer.

I still have the medicine. I run. I run so fast but the walls are closing in, the corridor catching up with me. I fall and the vials are broken, my only hope destroyed. His death was for nothing.

Mary stands at the base of the gallows, head in her hands as she weeps for the loss of the one she loved most in the world. I can see her through my tears, my small form shaking as the noose is tightened around my neck.

Suddenly, I drop and it's all over. But as I swing lifelessly in the wind, waiting for them to cut me down, I see him. Lord Hadrian Mercer. And he's laughing at me. Laughing at my death and how simple things could have been if justice had been served the way it was supposed to be.

A woman stands beside him, Verna, and she links her arm with his. Her pretty engagement ring shimmers in the sunlight and she whispers something in his ear. All the while her eyes are trained upon me. Taunting me, even in death.

'He is mine,' she says. 'He will never be yours.'

And then I'm awake and I can't breathe. A hand is on my forehead, a damp cloth running along my sweaty skin.

"Theo?" Mary asks. But it isn't Mary. No, it's the maid. The one I'm supposed to stay away from.

Evelyn.

My head is pounding and she looks worried. I go to speak but I can't, my throat is so dry even the air scratches it. Before I know it, water is running down my throat and it hurts as it brings my barren insides back to life.

"How are you feeling? You've been restless all night, mumbling and... and crying in your sleep."

I only realise then that her hand is behind my head, holding it up as she moves the glass away from my lips. I feel like I've drunk gallons and gallons but it's still over half-full and suddenly I'm so, so cold.

She pulls my blankets up when I start to shiver and checks my temperature with the back of her hand. "You're not as hot as before. That's good. You had us all worried there for a second."

And then it's quiet again as I start to come to. How long have I been asleep? When was the last time I ate something? My stomach grumbles but the thought of eating makes me feel nauseous. 

"Was it him?" she asked, her eyes flickering away as if it hurt her to look at me, "Did he hurt you again? Is that what... is that what you were dreaming about?"

Although I still felt somewhat out of it and it took me a moment to unjumble her words in my mind, I found my eyes widening the moment they finally registered and shook my head. And when I finally spoke, my voice was hoarse and scratchy, every syllable like thorns against my skin, "No. No... it wasn't... it wasn't that. It's my fault... It's all my fault..."

She placed her soft hand on my forehead again, the fingers moving gently across my skin, smoothing my hair down until it lay flat against my skull.

"It isn't your fault," she said. "None of this is."