C57 What The Bulge Meant

Annabelle paced the length of her room, the sound of her feet muffled by the shaggy rug on the floor. The window was open, letting in the crisp evening breeze, and the sheer white curtains fluttered softly in the wind. But the fresh air did little to soothe her.

Her mind kept replaying that moment in the darkened office. Dante’s gruff, low voice whispered forbidden words that had somehow etched themselves into her brain.

“Maybe I should just fuck you to get you out of my head.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memory away, but it was pointless. It was as if those words had been carved into her very soul.

At first, she’d told herself that fear had been her only reaction that day. But as the hours turned to days and the memory refused to fade, she realised fear hadn’t been the ultimate emotion.

It was curiosity.

“Why?”

Annabelle stopped pacing and pressed her hands against the cool glass of the window, staring out at the dark garden below.

She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t stop wondering what Dante had meant by those words.

Was it just anger? A twisted way of scaring her?

Or would he really… she shook her head at what should have been a horrible thought yet didn’t really feel like it.

And why…why did the thought of him, of that moment, send warmth pooling in her stomach instead of cold terror?

It was as if Annabelle didn’t know herself anymore and that terrified her.

For the past three days, she had avoided Dante at all costs.

She skipped training sessions with Angelo, always using Cathy as an excuse.

Not that it was entirely a lie.

Cathy was the one thing grounding her right now.

But even Cathy wasn’t talking to her.

Annabelle had asked Dr. Olivia what Cathy had said during their earlier sessions, but the doctor had gently told her, “She’ll talk to you when she’s ready. Trust her.”

The words had felt like a dagger.

Annabelle knew she should be patient, but it hurt.

It was like a sharp, stabbing pain in her chest.

Cathy was her little sister.

They had been through so much together.

It stung that Cathy had opened up to a stranger before her.

Annabelle couldn’t stop wondering if her sister blamed her for what had happened.

Maybe Cathy somehow knew that Annabelle had been involved in taking her away from their mother.

The guilt gnawed at her, making her restless.

One other thing that was eating at Annabelle was the fact that Cathy seemed to be acting as she was when she was about eight years old.

When she told Dr. Olivia. The woman said things like that could happen to children when they have undergone trauma.

She called it a coping mechanism that could only wear off as the child gets more exposed to love, care and attention that would reduce the impact of their trauma.

Annabelle blamed herself for that too.

Guilt mixed up with the many conflicting feelings she was having, and she soon lost the zeal to do anything.

She just wanted to stay indoors, away from all the men and problems surrounding her life, and take care of her sister until the girl was ready to talk to her.

But then, Cathy had gotten used to going out, and she wanted to go to the garden again. Annabelle couldn’t bring herself to get over the fear of meeting one of the men though.

She was afraid Angelo would see through her lies.

She was afraid that Mikhail would spring up on her again with his silly talks, and she just knew somehow that Dante would see them again.

She shuddered at the thought of what he might do to her or Mikhail.

He had told her not to push him after all.

The thought of his warning in that forbidden tone was one of the reasons for her sleepless nights, just as the remembrance of how his breath had felt on her neck raised goosebumps on her skin every time.

His arms seemed to have been branded around her, and she didn’t need to think much before remembering how he had held her.

Then the bulge!

Annabelle knew what the bulge certainly meant.

It had been the reason for her pains, which was why she was annoyed with herself because of the warmth that pooled in her stomach whenever she remembered again.

Annabelle supposed she must be going crazy if she was even the least bit curious about what might happen if she had said yes to his suggestions.

If one could call his statements that.

Cathy had asked her to go outside again today, and Annabelle couldn’t deny her.

Her sister deserved a moment of normalcy, even if Annabelle couldn’t bring herself to step outside with her.

So, she called Maria.

The maid, a warm woman in her early thirties, had become a comforting presence in the house.

Annabelle trusted her enough.

“Take her to the garden,” she instructed in a tight voice. “But keep her on the path where I can see her from the window.”

Maria’s kind brown eyes had flicked over Annabelle’s tense posture before she said softly, “Of course, ma’am,”

Annabelle stood by the window, her hands gripping the sill as she watched Cathy wander through the garden with Maria.

Her sister’s light brown hair, tied into two small ponytails, caught the fading sunlight.

She looked so small against the backdrop of sprawling greenery, as her pale yellow dress blended with the warm hues of the setting sun.

Annabelle didn’t take her eyes off Cathy until Maria brought her back inside.

When Cathy curled up in bed later that evening, Annabelle asked gently, “Did you have a nice time playing?”

Cathy only nodded, her face pressed against the pillow.

Annabelle’s heart ached when Maria whispered to her before leaving, “She asked me if you were angry with her, ma’am. She wanted to know if that’s why you asked me to bring her out instead.”

Annabelle stared at her sleeping sister, tears burning in her eyes.

She gently brushed a strand of hair from Cathy’s forehead, her fingers trembling.

“I’m sorry, Cathy,” she whispered. “I’m not angry with you. I just don’t know how to make this better. How to make you get better.”

She was more than certain now that her sister must blame her for what happened to her and that must be why she was talking to others but her.

She made up her mind to explain things to Cathy in the morning.

But then she woke in the middle of the night to the sound of Cathy’s scream.

She bolted upright, her heart hammering as she reached for her sister.

Cathy was thrashing in the bed, her hands clutching the sheets as she whimpered and cried out.

“Cathy! Cathy, wake up!” Annabelle said, her voice shaking as she grabbed her sister’s shoulders.

Cathy’s eyes flew open, wide and unseeing, tears streaming down her face.

Annabelle pulled her into her arms, rocking her gently. “It’s okay,” she murmured, stroking Cathy’s hair. “It was just a dream. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Slowly, Cathy’s breathing steadied, her body still trembling against Annabelle’s chest.

Then Cathy suddenly looked up at her. Her voice broke as she whispered.

“They killed him with a knife.”

Annabelle froze, the words slicing through her like the very knife her sister spoke of.