Have you ever heard of the popular saying, 'When the cat is away, the mouse will play'?
Well, with the days that followed, I indeed felt like a cute little mouse out of her little hole, who was enjoying the paradise of the mansion she should never be staying in in the first place. At work, nothing changed. I would work vigorously for hours and after work, I would drive to Darcy's school to pick her up to go home. Then she'd remind me of the drastic change which I forgot so often,
"But mom, this is not the way to the castle!" I would return to my senses and she would laugh wholeheartedly, eager to return to the castle she had recently started adoring.
Back at the mansion, the 'Madame' continued. Subsequently, I would wander off to explore the mansion and it's numerous rooms. Once I found a winery and went straight into it, only to come out tipsy, after having a little too much of a deceitful creamy liquor.
"I want my hair plaited into pigtails, momy!" Darcy requested and I happily agreed to plait her lush hair. While I stood over her on the dressing table with her hair tangled up in my hands, a gentle knock greeted the door.
"Madame, dinner is served." The announcer said and his footsteps faded into a distance without waiting for a response.
"There! Did mommy do a good job?" Her wide grin gave me my answer. I quickly packed my own hair into a loose bun and wearing a simple t-shirt and pyjama pants, I held the hand of Darcy, dressed in her ducky pyjamas and we headed downstairs.
A thick voice made me stop in my steps on the staircase. The voice vibrated through the glass and ran up to my knees.
"Will you get the hell out of here, you dimwit!" The voice went again, intensifying the weak feeling in my knees. I knew that voice anywhere. The cat had returned!
Unconsciously, I slowed down and arrived at the table with a speed of a snail. There he sat, dressed- yet again- in black. His black hair looked soft and silky and was pushed back with greese, giving him a school boy look. I noticed that his face, beautiful and majestic, had a tint of annoyance on it.
"Daddy!" Darcy's scream interrupted my thought. She ran up to him and I realized that I had been standing for a while, staring at her father. Trying to conceal any hint of embarrassment, I walked up to the dinner table with utmost composure and pulled a chair a good distance away from him.
"How are you doing, princess?" He asked. He had welcomed his little princess with open arms. Yet his face held an indifferent expression.
"I'm okay, daddy." She responded earnestly and he pinched her left cheek, "Carry me, daddy."
"Not now princess. Eat your meal first."
"No daddy, I want you to carry me now!" Darcy insisted.
"You know daddy hates it when little princesses don't listen." He said. But Darcy was adamant about being in his arms, "I said not now!" He snapped.
A gasped escaped my lips and his eyes darted to my direction. I quickly turned my gaze to Darcy who was now on the brink of tears. Daring not to say a word, I got up and walked over to her in an effort to stop her from crying. Hearing his voice alone did well to intimidate me and if I was a child of her age, I wouldn't have stopped myself.
The dinner I looked forward to every other day in anticipation of trying out new flavours, had suddenly turned dead-silent like a grave yard. The food in my mouth which looked pretty to the eyes, tasted bland. No one spoke except the cultery in our hands. Once Darcy tipped over a jug and I remarked at her clumsiness. After that, nothing happened.
After dinner, I got up from my chair without a word and Darcy got up noisily from hers but her mouth remained shut. We left the dinning hall with Damien slowly munching on a piece of mutton. At last in our room, I could finally breathe! However, Darcy's silence disturbed me.
"Are you okay, Darcy?" No answer, "Did daddy give his little princess a fright?"
I squatted in front of her, "Daddy didn't mean it okay? I'm sure he just had a bad day at work."
"But you never yell at me, mommy." Darcy stated as a matter-of-factly. "I don't want to be friends with daddy anymore!"
With that, her little feet carried her to the bed and she collapsed unto the queen-sized bed. I followed her lead, only mine ended with a dramatic groan.
I never thought Damien would snap at Darcy. For all the time he had been with her, she had been insistent and he had been patient. That was all a font of course. He hadn't the slightest care for Darcy.
I rubbed my templates in frustration, hoping such scenes would not repeat itself again or little Darcy, who was always happy to see her dad, will begin to fear his presence.
I was still in my thoughts when an intruding hand knocked on the door. "Who is it?" I asked. It couldn't be the bulter calling me down to a dinner we've already had.
"Sir request for your presence, Madame." A voice said. It belonged to a man who wasn't Steven. Steven was the name of the fancy bulter.
Wait. What? Damien Jaeger was asking for me?
"Sir requests for your presence."
"Why?" I had to ask. The man at the other side of the door gave blank answers and I left.
He wanted to see me.
But why?
Did he want to apologize for his bad behaviour over dinner?
I got up from the bed. Darcy was already sound asleep. I thought of changing as I was already dressed in my nightie. However, I decided against it. It was night anyways.
The hallway was dark and felt narrow as I walked through it. At the back of my mind, I felt something coming. I stopped infront of a large black door and breathed deeply before placing a knock on it. There was no answer. The room seemed empty. I knocked again for the second time and two times more. By the fourth time, my patience had ran out and I turned around to leave when suddenly, the door creeked open behind me.
The devil stared at me, still dressed in the same outfit he had worn to dinner. I gulped my saliva and it seemed as if I had swallowed all my impatience and the feeling of nervousness returned, "You wanted to see me." I said. I looked past his face, afraid of staring into it for too long.
His lips curved into a malevolent smile, "Come on in."
"I'd rather stay out here." I replied.
He chuckled, "I'm not some stranger inviting you to my room. I'm your husband."
'You are actually a stranger. Just one who forced me into marriage after having a daughter with you!' I wanted to say but my mouth remained shut.
"Look at me, Mélie." He said, his husky voice filled with authority, yet much calmer than before. My name sounded so right in his mouth and I dared to look at him. My eyes devoured his delicious face, zooming into the smallest details. But it wasn't just my head playing games. He was standing barely an inch from my face, lowering his gigantic body to meet me. His warm breath on my nose made me quiver in both fear and something more.
"I want to make you mine Mélie. As a husband should."
My eyes bulged opened as I gripped those words. I made an effort to move back. Was he holding me? Yes, for I felt a firm pair of hands around my waist.
"To make you mine." He whispered against my neck and I felt goosebumps on my skin. Help! I needed to get away from him. How was I to get away when I was helpless infront of him?
"Stop." I tried to sound firm but I'd only whispered the word.
He let out a breathy laugh and realised his grip on my waist, taking a step back to look at me. He looked pleased. I flushed in embarrassment as I realized what he had just done.
"Get some rest. You look exhausted." He said, and he shut the door in my face, leaving me rooted to the spot for what felt like forever.