Belladonna

14

I don't believe the food I've made Olivia is very good, but nevertheless she sits at the dining table, chewing it.

I haven't said anything to her, nor has she said anything to me. Anytime we meet each other's eyes, she just looks back down and keeps chewing. She's been chewing the same mouthful for a while, and I make a silent vow to never touch the kitchen ever again in my life to ensure that everyone stays alive and well.

"Olivia?" She glances up at me. "No," she says shortly, putting down the fork she's been poking around the plate.

I blink at her, my lips parting slightly. "No? What do you mean, no?" Olivia stops chewing, picking up a napkin and spitting into it as politely as she can. Splendid. Now I'm going around half-poisoning people also. "Whatever you're going to say, Arabella, I don't want to hear it," are the quiet words of her response. My eyebrows furrow slightly. "But—"

"I don't want to hear your questions, Arabella, because now you truly know it all." She stares right at me, eyes narrowing by a fraction. I only notice now that her hands grip the edge of the table, and her stiff nature is a sharp and almost unsettling contrast to her usually relaxed nature. I truly have done it this time. "Don't look at me like you haven't an iota of a clue. You do know everything, don't you? Even if you don't, you make it your responsibility to do something." "No, I don't," I say. "There's a lot I don't know, and I know you're hiding something, but you haven't got to tell—"

Olivia gets to her feet suddenly, her face paling, clenched fists trembling. "What is wrong with you?" She asks me, her jaw clenching. "What are you playing at, being a detective? Is that it?"

"I said you haven't got to tell me," I protest, rising from my seat also. "I was simply trying to prove to you that I don't know everything and that I won't say a word to anyone."

"You're a child!" she tells me, her voice sharper than I've ever heard before. My eyes widen slightly at her tone, and I nearly step back, twitching. "Children talk, Arabella, and I'm not blaming you, but it's just not—"

"Not what?" I cut in, frustration gripping me like a fist. I try to shake it off, but it cages me in. "Not safe? You're acting like I'm out to get you or something, like I'm working against you. I'm not Katherine, Olivia; I never will be, and I don't know why you're suddenly acting like I am. So what if you and Xavier have something between you two? I don't care."

"I know you're not like Katherine," she tells me gently. "But you're out to uncover every secret there is here, and by the time you've figured them out, it'll be too late to take them back. Secrets aren't always easy to deal with—so then we share them with others to lessen the load." "I wouldn't," I insist. With every word, she boxes me in me, and I can only think one thing, and that she's right and I'm wrong. Yet still I argue, my voice rising with my next words. "What are you so afraid of?"

She smiles at me sadly, shaking her head. "You'll understand one of these days," she tells me, trying to dismiss me in a shamelessly futile way. "You're treating me like I'm too simple to understand," I respond, almost expelling a bitter, sarcastic laugh, but it merely comes out as a scoff. "Maybe if you told me what it is I should comprehend, I could, but instead you choose to treat me like a child." She barely reacts to my words. "Perhaps I don't want you to understand—I wouldn't wish for anyone to know what it's like to fear losing everything." "You don't have to," I say, desperation bleeding into the fading anger. "Please."

"Arabella," Olivia opens her mouth to say something, closes it again, and sighs. A silent understanding passes between us, and my stomach drops. "No," I tell her. "You can't be suggesting...?" "I've got to—" "Don't say it!" I yell at her, shaking my head. "Arabella, stop it," Olivia says. "You're only making me feel worse about having to leave."