Bound by Duty | Five Hargreeves

22. Beauty in madness

You know that feeling you get the morning after something horrible happens? When you wake up feeling completely and entirely... demoralised.

That's how I feel right now, and have been feeling all morning. I've been sat at my vanity staring at myself in the mirror for a good hour, not thinking about much, just... sitting. My body ached, my head hurt, my eyes stung, and my cheeks burned. I didn't sleep a wink, I spent the entire night thinking of who could've done this, and what I could've done to prevent it. So far? I've got nothing.

I was pale. Paler than usual, and I had very dark circles underneath my eyes. But for once I had no intention on putting any make up on. I had barely managed to put on my cream coloured dress and brush my hair. Make up was too far.

With a sigh, I blink myself back to reality and getting up from my vanity, moving towards the door. I'd been hearing Luther and Diego's hushed talks all morning, and their footsteps had approached my door a few times, but neither one knocked.

"I can't believe Elliott's dead." Luther mumbles as I peak out of my room, watching him cover Elliott's beaten body with a white sheet.

Diego simply stares at the sheet that no covered Elliott's remains with a solemn look in his eyes, "He was a good guy." Better than good. "Deserved better than this." Much better.

"Yeah..." Luther nods, sighing.

Diego turns to the stair case, where, on the other side, the words öga for öga was painted in Elliott's blood. The very blood I'd stepped in last night. "Elliott must've been getting too close to the truth." He mutters, walking towards the stairs and looking around. "Smells like the feds." No. It smells like my mother's doing.

"What?" Luther scoffs, turning to look over at Diego with wide eyes. "Are you out of your mind? Diego, if this was the federal government, they would take him somewhere and question him." He glances down at Elliott's covered body, "They wouldn't... do this. No, this is the work of a psychopath." My mother.

"Öga foröga." Diego says, causing Luther to look back over at him. "That a name?" He asks, turning back to look at Luther. I raise an eyebrow, a name? What? No. And it's not öga foröga— it's öga for öga, meaning an eye for an eye. In Swedish.

My stomach sinks as I suddenly put the puzzle pieces together. I'd been too tired last night to think properly, so instead of staying to figure out what was going on, I went straight to my room and didn't come out again.

Luther walks over to Diego, leaning over the banister and looking at the bloody message. "Öga foröga..." He whispers, chewing his lower lip. "I'll look her up." He walks towards the kitchen, so I duck back into my room, closing the door softly and listening through the walls.

But I was right about one thing; this was my mother's doing. My eyes widen, and I gasp softly. Five went to her last night! What if she hurt him? My chest tightens, but not with more grief, with something knew. Bitterness and repugnance. Both at the mere thought of the woman I called my 'mother'.

"Holy shit," Luther's voice takes me back to reality, "I found her." I furrow my eyebrows, how did he find someone called Öga Foröga? "Olga Foroga..." Oh fuck. "That must be her."

"Call the bitch." Diego replies, the two hurrying over to the phone. I open my door, leaning against the doorframe as I watch Luther dial the number.

"It's ringing." He whispers, Diego nodding quickly in response. My eyes flicker over at the sound of soft footsteps, finding Five as he checks under the sheet. I look away before I see anything, returning my attention to Diego and Luther. "Uh, hello? Olga?" He turns to Diego, "It's her... she sounds... old. What should I say?" Diego waves his arms around, to which Luther clears his throat. "Excuse me, ma'am. Um, I was just wondering— what? My name? Is, uh, Luther Hargreeves, and—"