Chapter 75 A New Armor
Annabel blinked against the stark white intrusion of the room's light. The grit from her dried tears was still there as she rubbed her eyes.
A thick dull ache throbbed behind her temples making her head feel heavy. The bed spread was a tangled knot at the foot of the mattress, the room was a complete mess and on the nightstand, a single crumpled piece of tissue was lying like a tiny white ghost.
With the phone still firmly grasped in her hand, she had fallen asleep sometime in the evening.
Once more she was roused from the daze of her sleep by the soft tentative tap of the knock.
With a moan, her muscles protested as she slowly forced herself off the bed. Her heart fell when she saw herself in the full-length mirror.
Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen her silk pajama top was wrinkled and her hair was a wild tangle around her shoulders.
She looked like a ghost, a pale replica of the girl she once was. In a fruitless attempt to restore some dignity, she smoothed her dress before stumbling across the chilly floor to the door.
Her hand trembled a little as she reached for the handle.
She inhaled deeply then gave the door a last stern tug to open it. What would she say? What would she do?
Standing in the doorway Carson was holding a silver tray. His flawless jaw line and the profound repentant look in his eyes were captured in the morning light from the hallway.
He wore a plain white t-shirt instead of a suit which gave him a more youthful and exposed appearance.
There was a tangle in his hair as though he had raked his hands through it in exasperation.
There was a glass of orange juice, a piece of toast and a plate of eggs on the tray. Her stomach clenched at the sight of the food, a hollow empty sensation that simultaneously made her feel hungry and sick.
With a low rumble in his voice he cleared his throat. “Annabel, can I please come in? I've been waiting a long time here at the door.”
She merely moved aside, creating a small opening for him to enter without saying anything.
As he walked by her, the subtle fresh scent of his cologne filled the room. He placed the tray on the little round table by the window and moved with a smooth grace that he had practiced.
The room was silent except for the loud clink of the plate against the wood.
With his hands clasped in front of him he turned back to her.
“Annabel I'm so sorry.” He began in a sincere tone. “I don't even know what to say.I ought to have informed you. It was my duty to defend you. I—I was a coward.”
It was a well-known hollow apology that lingered in the air.
Annabel felt a strange icy clarity. The previous nights humiliation and rage had given way to a silent unwavering resolve.
She refused to accept his apology. She did not need his regret. She needed strength.
“There's no need to explain.” She said in a remarkably steady voice. “I understand.”
With a confused expression on his face Carson's eyebrows were knitted. “Understand what?”
“I understand everything that's going on.” she remarked as she moved toward the window.
In sharp contrast to the gloom she felt within the view of the well-kept gardens and the vast verdant lawn was lovely and bright.
“I get it. I have no grievances.” she muttered.
“Annabel you have every right to complain.” he sounded increasingly desperate. “My mom wasn't acting properly. It was unacceptable how she treated you. And that woman is a friend of the family…she has known me for a long time. She refers to everyone as darling. It didn't matter.”
Annabel interrupted, her tone quiet and decisive.
“It's fine.” she said. “Actually. Everything is alright.”
She sensed his gaze on her, a probing entreaty. He wanted her to do anything to show that she was still the girl he knew—the one who had fled the dining room in tears—including arguing, screaming and crying.
But that girl had left. Someone new had taken her place, someone with a stronger resolve and a harder exterior.
He gave a single melancholy nod slowly. “All right. If you say so.”
He took tentative steps toward the door as though he thought she would call him back.
“Please just have something to eat. You haven't eaten since yesterday.” He begged
“Thank you.” She said in a flat voice. “For the food.”
His hand was on the doorknob as he stood by the door for a while.
“Annabel please I would like for us to—”
She made a tiny firm motion with her head. “No, not right now. Just go please.”
After a brief pause, he opened the door and left with a sigh that seemed to be heavy with guilt.
After watching him leave, Annabel experienced an odd almost lightheaded feeling of relief as the door clicked shut behind him.
Barefoot on the cold wooden floor, she made her way to the center of the room. Her knees gently thudded against the plush carpet as she gradually sank to the floor.
She shut her eyes and put her arms around herself embracing her shoulders. She blinked away the new tears that stung the back of her eyes.
She was not going to cry. Not any more. It was a weakness to cry.
They expected the emotional out-of-her-depth girl to cry. The girl was over being her. She had to be. Her new armor was this.
She opened her eyes gradually and turned to face the food tray on the table. The bright orange juice the flawlessly scrambled eggs and the golden-brown toast.
It was a cozy image that promised the kind of life she had once yearned for. It was only food though.
In an attempt to mend a much deeper wound, the man who had let her down made a small material gesture of peace.
She refused to allow them to see her breakdown. She would hold her head high while overcoming every obstacle, every mocking comment and every icy gaze.
It was the only means of surviving in this cage of gold. She had to figure out how to survive here without totally losing herself.
They just wait and see.