Page 125 of Petite Fleur
Chapter 49
Maeve Henderson
What was I thinking?
I don't know if I'm willing to watch four people die, but I'm also not willing to live in a world where I know four rapists got away with what they've done and will probably do it again. I guess I'm all in.
Either way, the fear and anxiety of the unknown has me on edge all morning.
Leon woke up like it was any other morning, whistling happily as he got up and made coffee and breakfast for us both, but how can he eat when we’re about to kill people?
I’m fidgeting, biting my nails, curling and flicking my toes, and even picking at my pajamas until I accidentally create a string that pulls half of the stitches out.
I feel anxious and I can't even explain why. I haven't done anything yet, and I have no obligation to do anything. So why am I so uneasy? Why can't I get the sinking feeling of dread out of my bones?
Leon takes hold of my hand, I wonder if he notices that I haven't eaten a bite? I bet he has. He notices everything about me. "You don't have to go with me, I promise you. I won't feel any differently about you if you back out." He says calmly.
That is reassuring, but I don't know if I would feel the same about myself if I backed out.
I also don't know if I'll ever feel the same if I don't back out.
Will I still be me if I sit back and let people die?
I don't think I'll still be me if I help kill people.
"I'm going." I say confidently.
I'm not sure if I'm going to help him, but I'm at least going with him. I don't even know where we're going. I walked straight into the house to take a shower last night, and I know I sat in there for far too long. The water was cold by the time I got out, so I really have no idea where he took those guys.
"Okay, fleur. No pressure." He says. He squeezes my hand lightly and resumes with his breakfast. I'm still not sure how he can be so calm right now.
By the time breakfast is over, I'm a fidgeting mess. I know these guys, well kind of, but they know who I am. They’ve been to the house to hang out with Sean and Carlie.
It's just now hitting me that they're going to beg me for mercy. I don't know if I could hear that.
Maybe I'll just run when they get to the mercy part?
Leon guides me down to the basement when he’s ready, wearing clothes that look far too casual for the man I know.
The man I know wears fancy pants, name brands, and department store stuff that cost more than my rent. He cares about labels and styles his hair even when he doesn’t leave the house.
This version of him is foreign to me, the version where he’s wearing box store jeans and a simple white t-shirt without a label on it. His hair is still styled, but it just doesn’t feel like him.
Maybe I was right all along about the two personalities…
The silver eye, the terrifying and cold man wears cheap clothes and is a little crazy; he kills people in his spare time and kidnaps college girls. The warm blue side wears designer clothes and is sweet, charming, and successful.
“Do you have a split personality?” I blurt out while he leads me downstairs to what I can only assume is a medieval torture chamber.
He stops, spinning around and staring at me with a chuckle. “No. What would make you think that?” He asks casually.
He stops in front of a large metal door, one that looks like it belongs to a freezer, while punching in a long code on a keypad, and the reality of the situation hits me.
There are people on the other side of that door, probably shackled to the wall with old rusty chains and a hangsman guarding them in the black cloak.
Or will Leon wear the cloak?
“Do you have a cloak?” I ask. Why can’t I filter the things that come out of my mouth right now?