Poor Little Things {ON HOLD}

Chapter Two

I quietly make my way down the stairs and enter the family room, where Elias still sits in his chair. I notice the empty glass where there was once liquor. I automatically go to grab it and get him some more but I am stopped.

"Ah-that's fine," he says, placing his hand over mine.

Strange, he usually has more than one glass. Even so, I take a step back and regain my original stance, my hands folded in front of my waist. He studies me placidly for a moment.

"You've been awfully quiet lately," he says, resting his chin on the back of his hand.

"I'm...always quiet," I remind, my voice a tired whisper.

He cracks a smile.

"Hm...you made a lot of noise during that first year you spent with me. Almost as much noise as the babies."

I feel my knees grow a little weaker at the memory of the total, all-encompassing fear I felt during that first year, at all hours of every day.

I hold still as he rises from where he sits and stands in front of me. I determine not to move a muscle as he takes a piece of my sandy hair and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply. He speaks on the exhale, in a very relaxed way.

"Then, you learned that you couldn't leave me," he says with a smirk, staring at me with half-lidded eyes. I look up as his smile grows into a fiendish grin. "'Help'...wasn't that what you always screamed?"

He laughs, that sharp laughter with an edge to it, and I wince.

"Then! Then you realized that there was no one around to hear you!" he cackles.

I glance at the stairs, fearful that one or both of the twins will be standing there. I look back at him with shining eyes, my arms crossed woodenly over my chest.

"I hate you," I hiss spitefully, my tears falling.

He takes my face in his hands too roughly and draws close to me, an amused smile still on his lips.

"Oh, I know," he coos. "I know."

He places gentle kisses on my face but each feels like a deep cut with a knife, a painful scar that will never heal.

"I would let you go...it's a shame I love you so much."

That makes me laugh.

"Tch, you don't love me. Don't even say that you love me. You're the devil."

He titters like a child amused by the complete fury of their sibling.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," he purrs. "It's very hard to be me, Mikaela. I am not very easy to love."

His smile disappears as he says that and I can't help but wonder what was behind that comment. My shoulders are grasped and I am pulled against him. Even so, I keep my arms over my chest.

"You can't go anywhere. You can't leave m..." he trails off. His agitated expression is replaced by a sweet smile in an instant. "You're mine...do you understand? Those kids are mine and so are you. You all belong to me."

I avert my gaze.

"Say...it," he orders threateningly, his voice kept low.

"N...no-"

"Darling...I don't want to have to hurt you. You've been so good for so long, I don't want to break your record. But, we need to come to terms. This will be the only way that can happen. Now, say it. Open those pretty little lips...and tell me who you belong to."