Paroxysm ⇢ [Delirium, Book One]

III

MAISIE

2nd August 2018, 7:40AM.

Every morning I wake to the sound of the piano being played. It's the fifth port of call in Abraham's morning ritual. He wakes first, naturally. He also goes to sleep last, and over the nearly two years I've lived amongst these people I've realised that it's not about control, it's fear. He fears that if given the chance, one of us might try to take him out if he's caught sleeping. When he's sleeping is probably the only time we would stand even a sliver of a chance against him.

He has his morning coffee, like the majority of people living in the twenty-first century do. Normally he has this sat on the front porch, watching the sun come up. Abraham always stretches his tall frame out before he sits down, running a hand through his sandy hair, neither short nor long but somewhere between. Somewhere between is how I think of him at all times. He has a soft spot for me, but that almost never clouds his judgement if I do anything he disapproves of.

Thirdly, he eats. This is not the kind of thing anyone wants to watch on a morning, much less when they've only just woke up. He cleans himself up afterwards, washing the blood down the kitchen sink. And then he plays the piano. Part of me wonders if my body has conditioned me to wake after the blood has been washed away so that I don't have to remind myself too often of the life Abraham wants me to live.

He doesn't need to hunt like he does, he is capable of eating store-bought food like the rest of the world, but it's his choice to kill his own food. He says it makes him feel closer to the animal that he truly is at the core of his being. I say that he's barbaric to enjoy the slaughter of animals as much as he clearly does.

Hypocritically though, at first I was not a vegetarian. I am now, and I live to hear Abraham's disgust over my decision every single meal time.

"More bunny food?" Is his favourite line. I've stopped even bothering to respond any more, it never ends well if I do.

Today, I stretch my arms above my head as I sit up and swing my legs out of the side of my bed. I pick up the sweater on the floor and tug it on over my head, shivering a little against the morning air. Wren is still fast asleep, snoring quietly with her warm auburn hair splayed out across the pillow wildly.

I can hear stirrings in the kitchen, the clink of coffee cups against one another as someone pulls one from the cupboard. It's most likely one of Abraham's henchmen, but when I round the corner I find myself wishing my intuitions were better when I find myself face to face with Eris.

"Ah, you're back," I can't hide my tone of displeasure as the words fall out of my mouth.

"Good morning to you too, Maisie," she purrs at me, leaning back against the kitchen counter. What Eris lacks in stature she makes up for in presence, and I kind of hate her for it. I'm short too, but somehow she has the presence of a six foot tall runway model and I've no idea how she does it. I've put it down to something altogether supernatural, just to make myself feel better.

"What brings you back here?" I ask, sitting down at the breakfast bar. She pushes a freshly poured cup of coffee towards me, a strange act of kindness for her.

"Just checking in and updating Abe on something he asked me to keep an eye on," she says, not giving much away. She never does divulge too much information though; everything between Abraham and Eris is kept secret from us until the time comes that we cannot be kept in the dark any longer. It always makes my skin crawl that she calls him 'Abe' - he is not the kind of creature who suits a nickname.

I nod, and let the subject drop because there's no point in even trying to ask any more questions, I won't get any answers from her.

"I miss this house," she breathes, lips pressed to the rim of her coffee cup as she stares out the window at the morning sun.

I wish I didn't live in this house, I think.

"You're lucky you have anywhere at all, Maisie." Damn it, I forgot about her invasive abilities. She starts to laugh at me, a devilish smirk playing about her lips and I want to growl at her but I don't. I've had this argument with her every single time she visits, that actually I already had somewhere before Abraham ruined my life and left me with no choice but to follow him. I had a perfect life, actually. I had a family, friends, and I loved my life.

Wren yawns loudly in the doorway, stretching her arms above her head with her hair practically stuck up on end. My saving grace.

"Morning, dickhead," She chimes, not quite making it clear whether it's me or Eris she's calling a dickhead, but we have a game we like to play when Eris is around to see how long it takes her to realise we're subtly insulting her at any given opportunity. "Oh, Eris, lovely to see you," she adds and winks at me as she passes.

"Ever as charming to see you too, Wren," Eris responds without turning around. She takes a deep breath as though she's tired and turns. For a miniscule moment her disgust at Wren's morning appearance writes itself all over her face. Fortunately Wren is busying herself with pouring a coffee and doesn't notice, but I do and I add it to the list of things I'd love to punch Eris for. Not everyone is pristine as Eris at every moment of every day, and she finds that abhorrent. Whereas Wren's sleepy face and crazy hair only makes me fonder of her, she truly couldn't care less what she looks like or who sees her this way.

The piece of music Abraham is playing comes to a slow and quiet end. There's a moment where he remains sat, probably making silent deliberations about what to play tomorrow morning before I hear the scrape of the stool on the wooden floor backwards and then forwards again as he pushes it beneath the keys and heads into the kitchen.

"My darling," He coos, walking into the room with open arms and a terrifying grin on his face. I hate Abraham's smiles, they creep me out to no end. Eris seems pretty appreciative of them though, setting her coffee down and embracing Abraham in return.

"Master," She sighs happily against his chest. It pains her to be apart from him, she's told me countless times how lucky I am to always be at his side. I've told her a few times that she's batshit crazy and if she wants to swap places she's more than welcome to – but that's never ended well for me, so I've stopped bothering to even respond now when she gushes about 'Abe'.

Wren rolls her eyes at me across the kitchen and I stifle a snigger, rolling my eyes in response to this, quite frankly, sickening display of kiss-ass-ing. Abraham takes a step back from their embrace but keeps his hands on Eris' shoulders, searching her face. "Is it good news?" He asks and she can't stop the grin that spreads across her beautiful features.

I've always found it strangely ironic that the two most devilish people I know are possibly the most beautiful. Even if Abraham's smiles creep me out, it's only because I know what they mean – trouble, the kind of trouble that leaves a trail of bloodied corpses in its wake. If I didn't know either of them as well as I do I'd be jealous of their beauty, but I know that it comes at a pretty high price.

"Girls," Abraham drops his hands from Eris' shoulders and I notice her almost shudder as though a cold breeze blew across the back of her neck the moment Abraham removed his touch. It gives me a little kick to know that there's something that weakens that hard, shiny exterior. Wren and I have become well accustomed to feigning enthusiasm at anything Abraham has to say to us, and we expertly mimic facial expressions of people who give a shit. "It is time."

Time for what? I think, but Wren actually opens her mouth and says it.

"Fantastic Abraham, uh, but, for what?"

He smirks, and something horrible starts to fester in the pit of my stomach, and sure enough when he opens his mouth the words that follow are just as horrible as I imagine.

"We are returning to Alderdale, tonight."