The Aftermath

Chapter two

*don't own the gifs*

The fluttering sounds of black moth wings echoed the halls of the hollow mansion. Everything was desolate, with the slight faint flicker of candlelight in the hallways and rooms.

No one lived here, alive that is. The mansion was already slowly crumbling away, with the bannister broken from Edith's fall and elevator door was broken, it's latch to allow the door to tighten shut was smashed from Edith's rush to flee.

Lucille paced the dusty floorboards of her library, her delicate fingers brushing the books, which were tightly packed and stored away in alphabetical order. She stopped when a certain book caught her eye. It was one of Edith's, she must've left it, yet again she was in a hurry to leave this place.

The book was hard backed with laced flowers slithering down the spine; the title of the book was crested with golden colour font. It made all the rest of the books old fashioned, just like Edith had to Lucille. Edith was the modern beauty that Thomas had fallen in love with, whereas Lucille was the deadly black moth lurking in damp corners desperately finding its way towards the light – but sometimes getting burned in the process.

Skimming through the book briefly, her eyes were caught in one word and one word only: revenge. Her eyes widened with curiosity as she glared down at the noun. She shut the book at once the moment she heard the loud sound of footsteps.

"Lucille," Thomas greeted her civilly, yet unlike kissing her on the cheek or hugging her, he stood still opposite her – at a large distance. Using her free hand to swipe away the dress for her to turn around to face her brother, Lucille's eyes exceled wild and her mouth trembled with exhilaration to see him again.

"My dear brother," she noticed he winced, "have you decided to finally join me for afternoon tea?" she was playful with him, she knew how this would affect him but it was just so exuberant to do so. After all, he did break her heart.

"Always infatuated with the tea," Thomas responded, cockily, his head slanting to the side and the corner of his mouth turning upwards. He was playing as well. But he was mocking her.

Pausing for only a moment, her eyes contracted a little, she grew uninterested of this – why couldn't he just forget about Edith Cushing, she was but a meagre butterfly in his life and she flew away. Only then did Lucille have a cruel idea, an excruciating, unbearable, agonizing cruel plan.

Lucille radiated, her mouth opening to expose her unspoiled white set of teeth as she teased gaily, "it takes my breath away!"

Snap!

It happened too soon, too soon for Lucille to realise what her impetuous and rash actions would cause. Thomas' face dropped instantaneously, his eyes were flared wide – almost scorching into her. He then marched up to her and slapped her hard and fast upon her conceited face.

Nevertheless, while it felt good for Thomas himself, the gratitude of what he had done and the gladness of finally standing on his own was rapidly gone.

He observed down in fear as Lucille's face flashed upwards at him. Her once light green eyes turned obscure, her miosis pupils dashed back at Thomas.

Before he could back away he was pulled by her uncommonly large strength back towards her, closer than before. Their noses skimmed each other as Lucille began to breathe heavily, her chest heaving with rage. Her teeth were gnawed together, hissing at Thomas like an animal – an abused dog.

That's what Lucille was. An abused dog, that secretly craves attention and love but if you touch it or even notice it, it will bite back because it's terrified of how you might deceive it.

Thomas thought for a second she might kiss him, but quickly dismissed when she began to quietly but incisively, "if you fucking lay a finger on me I will skin you alive, you worthless piece of shit," her breathing stayed rapid and loud, "I should have killed you when you were small, father loathed you, mother never payed attention to you, you were..." she stopped and pried him closer, lips touching as she talked, "are nothing."

Thomas Sharpe then began to shake, slowly and unnoticeably at the start but when she let him go, he flew back and fell onto the floor; his back ached as he smashed the dusty floor. Ignoring the pain, he realised how much he was shaking – violently, his hand shook, his attempted to stop using one hand but that hand was shaking too. Suddenly his lungs began to stop working; he gasped loudly struggling to catch his breath.

Only did his breathing calm when Lucille wrapped her arms around him, kneeling behind him and instructing him to breathe slowly, "it's going to be alright," she cooed, stroking his black locks. When Thomas regained himself again, he turned to Lucille with pleading eyes, on the brink of tears. When Lucille noticed the pale cheeks, red puffy eyes and tears flowing down him did she begin to cry too. Weeping into each other's arms, they muttered apologies to one another.

Eventually the crying stopped, and Lucille's lullaby began:

"Let the wind blow kindly

In the sail of your dreams

And the moon light your journey

And bring you to me

We can't live in the mountains

We can't live out at sea

Where oh, where oh, my lover

Shall I come to thee?"