C11 Chapter 11

“Damn it!” Jullian curses through gritted teeth.

The pain in his stomach has been building for the past few days and he has been ignoring it. But now it is too much, to the point that he can barely stand.

He hates this. He hates this thing. Every six months this happens. He hates it.

Lucas gives him something for the pain, a clear, colorless liquid. The last vail they have.

After a brief moment, Jullian finally stands on his own, and he and his bodyguard, Lucas, go down through the elevators straight to the parking lot.

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They get into the black Lexus, Lucas driving as usual and Jullian seated in the back seat as always.

Lucas drives swiftly and steadily to the Grayson family mansion.

As soon as they arrive, Lucas leads Jullian inside through the foyer, through the conservatory, past the game room where Jullian had met with his father three weeks ago, through the indoor poolroom, the terrace, and out to the greenhouse, where Jullian's mother is seated, trimming a potted bonsai tree.

She has long, sandy brown hair and gray eyes. A beautiful woman in her prime, but even now, she was still quite striking. She looks up as they walk in, Jullian leaning heavily against Lucas.

“Ah, my little rosebud! Have you finally come to visit me?” Lucas steps back, arms still supporting Jullian, gives a slight bow, and slowly lets Jullian stand on his own.

Lucas quickly turns and walks out, leaving mother and son alone.

“Good…Morning…mother.” Jullian moans.

“Oh, come in, come in,” says his mother, cheerful. “You don't look well.” She says, her voice overflowing with concern, her eyes filled with worry.

Jullian groans, “Nnnnngh. Mother…I….”

“Come in, come in, sit with me.” Jullian’s mother, Celia Grayson, says sweetly, gesturing towards the stone bench across from her.

Jullian grunts as he moves toward the stone table his mother is using to shape her bonsai. He exhales heavily, moans, and kneels slowly before his mother, resting on his haunches, his shoulders slouched.

“Mother, please…please, the antidote.” He struggles to say, his voice coming in short breathless bursts.

“Antidote? Oh, you mean this?” She says, placing a small ceramic vial on the stone table.

Jullian looks at it, his eyes pleading. He tries to reach for it, but he can't move. The pain is too much, too intense.

He notices that the pain is more intense than it ought to have been, and he realizes that the air in the greenhouse is more dense than usual, meaning his mother must be burning some incense somewhere to make the symptoms worse.

“Mother…” he says, his voice just above a whisper.

Jullian sinks low to the ground, almost lying on his side, supported only by his left arm propping the rest of his body up, no longer able to keep kneeling upright.

His mother kneels before him and pulls his chin up sharply. Her eyes are hard, her face like stone. “Where have you been?” Celia hisses; “you were supposed to come three days ago, but instead you keep me waiting?”

“Mother…”, Jullian tries to speak, but only a whimper escapes his lips. His mother lets him go and turns away from him. He slumps down, still having one hand holding his lower belly, the other on the floor, supporting his weight; trying to keep from completely lying flat on the ground.

His mother turns back, her eyes wild and blazing. “You dare to defy me? After all these years, after all this time, you still dare to defy me?!” She shrieks.

At this point, Jullian can no longer speak, staring at his mother, his eyes pleading, silently begging her to give him the medicine that will stop this pain.

“What do you have to say for yourself?!” She yells at him. He swallows hard, painfully. “Mom…mom…please,” he implores, his eyes glazing over, his face pale and sweating.

She leans in towards him. “Will this happen again?”

“No,” he groans.

“Will you do as you are told?”

“Yes,” he says through gritted teeth.

His mother opens the vial, grabs his face, forces his mouth open, and pours the contents into his mouth.

He swallows the medicine, as bitter as it always has been. If he could, he'd puke. But he's too tired, too weak, and in too much pain for even that.

His mother clamps his mouth shut, forcing his head back, making him swallow and then she releases him.

She spins around and sits back down on the stone bench. She stares at him, her head slightly tilted to the side.

Slowly, Jullian's pain begins to ease and he is finally able to move, finally able to control himself. He kneels upright, gradually rising until finally, he stands upright.

“Come, come my little rosebud, sit here,” his mother says. Her voice back to being sweet, her eyes no longer wide, but now shining with encouragement and genuine happiness as she watches him stand and put himself back together, brushing his clothes off and wiping his hands with a cloth she had on the table.

Jullian sits across from his mother. She stretches out her hand for his and he, in turn, stretches out his hand, placing his hand in hers, palm facing upwards.

“You're late, my darling,” she covers his open palm with her second hand, gently stroking his palm with her thumb, “you know it's time for us to touch up, right?”

“Yes,” Jullian says weakly, still recovering from the pain he had been bearing for over six hours, shallow breaths escaping from his lips.

“So…we'll do it this evening, yes?” His mother says, in the tone of a mother talking to a young child.

“Yes, mother. This evening.”

“Good, very good, that's my darling boy.” She says, smiling sweetly at her son.

She lets go of his hand and turns back to her tree. “Go ahead, take a nap.” She says curtly, picking up her thinning shears.

Jullian rests his arm on the stone table and starts to put his head down, but passes out before his head reaches his arm.