The Price Of Gold

07. monster

vii.
OPHELIA ARCHIBALD

"Hello, my dearest Ophelia."

Just as the voice hit my ears, my hands tightened on the steering wheel as if holding onto it for my life. My stomach churned, and for a moment, the world outside the car faded, my vision went black. My pulse was so fast that I couldn't feel anything else in this world.

A cold wave of nausea washed over me. My chest tightened, a slow, crushing weight pressing against my ribs. A part of me wanted to turn the car off, throw the USB out the window, and run. But I couldn't move. His voice had always been like that—paralyzing.

"Do you miss me, little one?" he asked, his tone sickeningly full of affection. "I imagine you don't. Not yet, anyway. But you will. When I'm gone, you'll understand just how much I've done for you, for all of you."

My hands were shaking now. I clenched my jaw to keep from sobbing outright, my vision blurring with tears. He was here. He wasn't here. He was here. No— he wasn't. He was at the hospital.

"My dear girl...

I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting the sound to stop, but it didn't. It only grew louder, more suffocating, I could feel his presence like he was around me right now. Like he was watching me from somewhere.

"I'm dying, Ophelia. You know that, don't you?" His voice softened, but it only made it worse. "Soon, I'll be gone. And then everything—everything—will rest on your shoulders. Yours and your siblings'. But mostly yours."

"No," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Stop. Please, just stop."

But he didn't stop. He never stopped.

The tears spilled over. My hands fumbled for the dashboard, pressing buttons blindly, trying to make it stop. But nothing worked. His voice kept going, steady and unrelenting.

"I'm sure the others are back by now. Alastair, Aurelia and Julian. They always return, no matter how far they run. That's the beauty of family, isn't it? Blood calls to blood."

"Shut up!" I screamed, slamming my palms against the steering wheel. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" The sound of his voice was unbearable, like needles digging into my brain. Please make this stop.

"Do you remember that night, Ophelia?" he asked. "The night you first heard the names: Gideon, Beatrice, Rosalind. You were so curious, weren't you? Always poking your nose where it didn't belong."

My stomach lurched, a sharp, painful twist at the way he took those names. The air in the car felt thick, I felt like I was drowning in it. My fingers clawed at the buttons again, desperate to make it stop, but the USB wouldn't eject.

"Stop, please, stop!" I sobbed, yanking at the dashboard. "I don't want to hear this!"

But he didn't care. He never cared.

"You should have stayed out of it," he continued, his voice hardening. "But no, you had to know. You had to pry. And now, look at you. Do you think they'd tell you the truth? Do you think you'll ever find out?"

I couldn't take it anymore. My hands flew to my ears, pressing against them as if that could somehow stop me from feeling what I was feeling. His voice still seeped through, like it was inside my head. Like he was inside my head.

I twisted the key in the ignition, desperate to numb him out with the roar of the engine, but the car didn't start.

"Come on, come on!" I cried, my voice breaking as I slammed my fist against the dashboard. The engine sputtered and died, leaving only his voice to fill the silence.