Death's Exception

Chapter Twenty

I sip the tea cautiously, and my eyes widen at the flavor that tickles my taste buds. It is amazing. I sip again, but longer this time. I close my eyes and smile, wrapping my thin fingers around the warm mug. Titus is sitting beside me on a frilly couch, tearing piece by piece of his bread, and throwing it into his mouth.

"Did you change the recipe?" He asks Hilda who is sitting in a lounging chair across from us.

"Just a bit of honey, dear. The kids like sweet." Titus nods.

"It is great. Try it, Rory." He hands me the loaf, and I tear off a piece for myself. I pop it in my mouth, and it almost instantly dissolves on my tongue, leaving an aftertaste of honey. I smile at Hilda.

"Oh, wow. That is the best bread I have ever tasted." Hilda's eyes tear up.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you. Please, have all you want. Titus, are you two living up here now?" He looks at me and laughs nervously.

"Um, Hilda- we aren't... uh," He glances at the floor, his face glowing red. I laugh.

"Yes, we are. But temporarily." She smiles, but looks between Titus and me curiously. She slams her hands on her knees and stands.

"Well, I better get a-baking. Customers start filing in at three o'clock." She winks at us, and leaves the room.

"She's nice," I exhale, glancing at the space between us on the couch and desperately want to fill it. He nods, and leans back on the couch.

"Her husband was a scientist. He inspired me to become one. I had questions, he had answers." He laughs quietly. Before I have time to respond, the door of the bakery slams open and a man with an angry face and a five o'clock shadow bursts in, his nostrils flaring.

"'ILDA!" Titus stands, and I follow, peeking out from behind him. "'Oo the 'eck are you?" The man says, surprised at the audacity of Titus.

"Hilda's friend. What do you want?" Titus clenches his fists, and his jaw stiffens visably.

"It's bin three years debt, since 'er 'usband passed. Three years!" At the last phrase, the man cranes his neck to yell pass Titus to Hilda. 

"How much?" Titus steps between Hilda (who has just stepped into the room) and the man.

"Oh, Titus, darling, leave it. I have five hundred for you, here. I will pay the rest to you in time, Mr. Trout, you have my word." The now named Mr. Trout pushes past Titus, and points a short, stubby finger at Hilda.

"This 'ady 'ere owes me ten thousand, that. I 'ave a family to feed, I'll 'ave you know, 'Ilda." For the first time I realize a little girl with long, tangled black hair is hanging on to her father's leg. Her eye is swollen, and her lip split. My mouth hangs open, and Titus notices. He nods sadly.

"Oh, you do nothing but buy liquor and we all know it. We bought this building off of you when you were a kind, gentle man. What happened to you, Mr. Trout?" Hilda hands over the five hundred dollars in cash, tears falling from her eyes.

"It'll be another five 'undred if you don't pay by next week!" Titus pushes him away from Hilda. Mr. Trout turns to Titus and punches him in the face. Titus, now infuriated, hits back, making Mr. Trout's jaw bleed. I scream out Titus' name, but he ignores me. I exhale heavily, and go to push them away from each other, but Mr. Trout hits me, and I fall backwards. I catch myself, but my back did not like the impact of my fall. Titus is now angrier than before, and continues to fight. The little girl screams and jumps back as a plate that is knocked off a high shelf by Titus almost hits her head. I motion towards the girl, and she runs to me.

"Titus, enough." I say. He hears me, and looks at the girl weeping in my arms. He sighs, and rubs some blood from his cheek. He turns to Mr. Trout, and with wide, threatening eyes he says, "Take your money, and leave," Mr. Trout sneers, but staggers out of the door, leaving his daughter behind.

"What is your name, honey?" I ask quietly, smoothing her long black hair away from her tear-stricken face. She sniffles, "Molly." Titus sits down on the ground beside me, and his head sags to his chest. I rub his back, and rest my head on his shoulder.

"Oh, Titus, I wish you hadn't gotten involved," Hilda sighs behind us. Titus' face turns red, and his jaw clenches. Angry. I grab his hand, and he looks at me. His eyes are wild, and hurt. I hold his gaze, and he calms down. He looks worriedly at Molly, "Do you want to go back to your daddy?" Molly screams, and shakes her head no, clenching me tightly. Titus frowns, and picks her up. He lets her cry in his shoulder, and he rocks back and forth, rubbing her back with his huge, but gentle hands. I look back at Hilda, not sure whether to smile or cry. There is something about Titus and a little girl that makes my heart leap. Someone that holds my universe together holding a frail, abused little girl.

"What do we do?" He asks, laying a now sleeping Molly on the slightly slouched, lacey couch that we had just sat on. She rolls over on her side, and starts to suck her thumb.

"We could take her with us." I offer. Titus raises his eyebrows.

"Terrible idea. We are dangerous." I stand, and cross my arms.

"But maybe if people see that we have a little girl they will not be scared! Someone lovable." Titus smiles a little bit, and wraps his arms around me, nuzzling his head onto the top of mine.

"You are entirely loveable." I blush, but roll my eyes.

"Oh, shut up. What do you think?" He sighs, but still embraces me.

"For a few days. I will call Carter to come down, and he can bring us some money and resources." My stomach wrenches.

"What- do you think he knows about..." My voice cracks much louder than it should have.

"If he hasn't found out about Lilly, it won't be much longer." Titus says, the color draining from his face. Hilda rushes into the room, holding a huge sack of food, and drink. She shoves it into Titus' arms.

"You two be safe." She says sadly. Titus pulls her into a hug, and Hilda starts to weep. I sit down on the couch next to Molly, and stroke her hair. I try not to eavesdrop on their conversation, so I hum to myself. Titus comes over to the couch, tears standing out against his cheeks.

"Is everything okay?" His nose crinkles a little bit, and he stares at the ceiling, trying to will away the oncoming tears.

"She's dying."

"Oh, Titus." He doesn't hold it back anymore. He holds me tightly, and I let him cry into my hair. Pity not the one that is dying. Pity, instead, the poor soul being left behind.