Stella Starlet

Carlisle

The backyard of Carlisle's estate

-

Carlisle wasn't the same after the blood bath.

He was stressed, on-edge about every little movement or sound. 

He often had his hand wrapped around his dear pistol's handle, waiting to use it. 

At night, he was awake, getting up out of the bed and then getting back in. Pacing between doing lines of cocaine off the bedside and smoking cigarettes on the balcony. 

He was going insane. 

Carlisle was leaning on the balcony railing, exhaling clouds of white cigarette smoke when I leaned next to him. 

"It's two-thirty A.M., go to sleep."

"I can't fucking sleep," he snapped as he rubbed his temples.

"Why?" I asked gingerly. 

"Every single time I close my eyes-" he paused and took a drag from his cigarette. His hands were slightly trembling. "I feel like someone's in my goddamn house. I feel like the house is going to get lit up in flames and we're going to burn."

"Carlisle, you have so much security. You have your men walking around this estate twenty four hours a day. No one is going to slip past them."

"I thought so too. But when those fucking pricks got into my goddamn building, I don't trust my men!" 

"Don't let them hear that," I whispered as I rested a hand on his shoulder. 

He put out his cigarette on the metal railing and turned to me. Without a word, he pulled me close into a tight hug. 

"Fuck, Stella. I think I'm losing my mind."

I just held my arms around him as he began to cry. 

He was always a strong man, never fazed by anything; not blood, not death, not evil. 

But that night at two-thirty in the morning, his heart broke.

-

When I woke up, Carlisle was gone. 

His side of the bed was cold. 

I was not surprised. He was never there when I woke up. 

I sighed as I threw on a sweater and walked down the stairs. 

As usual, the house was teeming with men in suits, talking to each other or into a cellphone. 

When I got to the kitchen, I saw out through the window a group of men, Carlisle's most trusted, in a group watching something. 

"Oh God," I muttered to no one as I marched towards the french doors that opened to the backyard.

I walked across the patio, towards the pool ledge where they stood. 

"What's going on?"

They laughed and stepped out of the way so I could see. 

"Carlisle!"

When they heard me start yelling, they beelined towards the doors, desperate to get out of there. 

"Hey baby, want to join me?" Carlisle slurred, grinning. 

He was drunk. 

Not tipsy, but full-blown drunk. 

He was in the pool, in a white button-up shirt and his suit-trousers.