Forbidden Bliss✔ (Completed)

Chapter 18

*Her*
He sleeps now.

Sleeps now.

I hold him in my arms as he sleeps. 

Rock him in my arms as he sleeps.

He put up such a fight when it was bedtime but now he sleeps.

Sleeps.

He looks so peaceful.

That tramp had no idea what she had.

How good she had it.

He will stay here in my arms now.

Perfect.

Silent.

Still.

I start singing, an old lullaby that my nanny used to sing to me when I had nightmares. There will be no more nightmare for him.

No more dreams either.

He is safe here.

Safe.

Still.

Something stings my head. I hear the phone beep. 

It's done.

I put the quiet child on the bed and cover him with a quilt before walking to the bathroom. I take off the shower cap and bend over the wash basin and begin rinsing the peroxide from my hair.

~*~

*Aleksandr Christakis*

I placed an unconscious Améthyste on her bed and turned her onto her side as the doctor instructed.

She must have screamed for over ten minutes before she started digging her nails into her skin. All skin. Whatever skin she could find. Torrun made Natalia call a doctor to calm her down and the doctor gave her a sedative.

Angry red marks marred her otherwise flawless face now as she breathed silently.

The box had only one item.

One.

A shirt. 

Small. Child-sized.

Bloody.

I'm not talking specks of blood.

A lot of blood.

Natalia had explained in short monosyllabic words that it was the same shirt Alexei had been wearing when he went on his field trip.

Améthyste had gotten up from the floor still screaming and locked herself in the bathroom. I had followed her and knocked, she kept shrieking. I had knocked again, louder when I heard the wailing stop. She started making heaving sounds and in my frenzied panic I forced the door open and found her throwing up into the toilet bowl. 

Her entire body shook and she retched again. I knelt behind her and pulled her hair from her face, rubbing her back as she continued to throw up. When she stopped vomiting she resumed the sharp shrieks.

I don't know which was worse, the shrieking or the dry heaves that rocked her body.

The police took the box and shirt away as evidence and said it didn't mean that Alexei was dead and there was not way to prove that the blood was even his. None of this pacified her. They asked what Alexei's blood type was and she told them O negative.

At least she was a sleep now. I sat next to her as she slept. Watched the delicate planes of her face. The soft celestial nose, the small freckles that dusted it, the determined chin that always tipped up when she was being stubborn.