Beauty and The Beast

Eight

Today i rushed everything in the office, i moved up some schedules and canceled some meetings. I had to come home early. I didn't know why am i being like this, but i had the urge to see her face. I'd be crazy if i didn't. I reached home at 6 pm.

"Where is she ?" I asked a maid.

"Miss Pearce is in her room all day, Sir." She answered but kept her head down.

I headed upstairs and knocked on her door. Why did i bother to knock ? I owned this house, i can enter every room in this house. There was no respond, so i opened the door slowly. She was sleeping peacefully. I smiled down at her. I opened my jacket and put it on the velvet chair next to her bed. I rolled up my shirt sleeves and sat next to her.

Now i knew why i needed to see her face, i felt so calmed whenever i was with her or just by looking at her. I pushed her hair away from her face and stroked her cheek with my knuckles. Her skin was so soft, my knuckles wanted to stay longer there but she was stirring to wake up. I cringed at her reaction when she saw me. Like i was a ghost or something. My anger surfaced, and she started crying and pleading. What did i do ? I was trying to console her, but her face paled when i shifted closer.

She quivered, she was really scared of me. I felt a deep jab in my chest to see her like this, because of me. Of course she was scared of me. I was the one who made this, i stroked my thumb on her scar. I was about to hug her when she screamed loud. I was too shocked by her scream, i didn't realized when she got out of the bed ran toward . . Greta ?

She cried on her shoulder. I walked through the door, when Greta looked up on me with confusion. I left them there with clenched teeth, i fisted my palms needed to punch something. I headed to my study and punched the door. I threw all of the books and papers on the desk, i punched the iMac screen. The screen glasses scattered all on the floor. My fist was bleeding, but i felt no pain. I felt numb when the image of her horrified face crept to my mind.

Yesterday i was so angry to see her hate me, i preferred she fear me instead of hate me. But today i was suffocated to see fear in her eyes, i didn't want her to look at me that way.

I was pouring some whiskey to my glass in the living room when Greta walked downstairs from Cassandra's room. She gasped at my bleeding fist, then went to the kitchen. She was back with a bowl of warn water and a small towel. She washed my hand.

"She's too young to understand, Sir. Try to imagine, she had been treated like she was a pottery her whole life. Suddenly she had to go through this."

I made a short cogitation about what she'd been through these past few days.

"She must be really freaking out right now." I testified with a low voice.

"Give her a time, Sir. Let her getting used to this situation."

It had been four days since the night i agreed to Greta to give Cassandra time. I didn't approach or meet her. Four days of a hell to me. She locked herself in her room, never even once came out of that room. It's been four days of a hell to my staffs too, i'd gave them a hard time with my unpredictable mood.

It was Saturday, i decided to practice to shoot on my shooting field. I used my Walther P99 today. I put each magz in the empty cartridge, i turned my body sideways from the gun and keep it pointed downrange. I pulled slide back of the strong spring and released it. It was loaded now. I aimed my point on the figure board. I pulled the trigger and squeezed to shoot the target. It hit the target. Then the target started moving, i released the trigger and prepared to aim the next shot.

I was out of magz and ejected the empty cartridge to fill it, when Costner approached me out of nowhere, didn't mind to cough first.

"Sir, we have a situation."