Jocelyn Morgenstern slammed the door of the cellar behind her, and placed her back on her wood. Her heart was thudding in her chest, though no tears came to her. She just stared ahead blankly, trying to reconcile this all to her mind and thoughts. Her husband had poisoned her, but not only her, but their son. A shaky hand covered her mouth as she let out a sharp and painful cry because now she knew why Jonathan was so different, now she knew why his eyes were as black as night and why he never cried out for her. Jocelyn slid down the door until she was sat down; her legs didn't have the strength to hold her upright anymore. She was still trying to process what she had just witnessed, yet no part of her was curious enough to go back down there. She'd seen enough, she had no desire to relive any of that ever again. Jocelyn breathed out slowly, her heart was still racing. She had to get out of here; she had to get away, she couldn't stay here, not with that madman.
Standing up quickly, Jocelyn tore upstairs and went straight to her wardrobe and began pulling clothes onto her bed in no particular order. Her mind was racing, but an odd sensation in her stomach made her stop, and she perched on the end of hers and Valentine's bed, with one hand resting on her lower stomach. She knew why the pain was there, in fact, she'd known for a few weeks now though she'd been at pains to admit it to herself. After what she had been through with Jonathan, she had really had no desire to have any more children; she couldn't even love the one she did have. Jocelyn smoothed her hand over the small bump and lay back, tears now bit in her eyes. She couldn't do this. She couldn't just run, not in this condition. Neither could she leave Jonathan here with Valentine, no matter what he was, he was still her son, and she had to take care of him. Her thoughts also ran to her parents; what would Valentine do to them if she disappeared. Would he think they had helped her? Jocelyn would never have thought her husband capable of anything monstrous, but after tonight, she was willing to believe he was capable of just about anything.
Finally, she began to retch, and just about made it to the bathroom before what little she had eaten for dinner made a reappearance. Jocelyn slumped by the side of the toilet as a cold sweat rushed over her. She couldn't leave; Valentine would never be content with her simply just leaving, because that wasn't like him. He would never just let her go. Yet she had this new life within her now, and she could not allow Valentine to ruin it. She had to do something. Jocelyn lifted herself up and then shakily began to put all of her clothes back in her wardrobe and dresser, replacing everything as though it had not been moved in the first place. She sniffed back, wondering if she should check on Jonathan, though he had been sleeping when she had last looked. She just sat down on the end of her bed, trying to think. By the Angel, what could she do now? Her first thought was to run to Lucian, maybe tell him what had happened and seek some kind of help from him, but she couldn't put him in that sort of position, not when Valentine assumed he had taken his own life.
The door downstairs opened, and Jocelyn stiffened. Fear pulsed through her in a way she would never have associated with her husband before tonight. She could feel herself begin to shake, mostly out of anger, though she knew she could not show it. Everything had to be as before until she figured out what to do. Jocelyn wiped her eyes on her sleeve moments before Valentine pushed open the door their bedroom; he was carrying Jonathan in his arms. "Jocelyn?" He said softly, as his eyes searched her, "You've been crying." Jocelyn feebly nodded, because she couldn't think of a suitable lie, "It's okay, I'm home now." He sat beside her and passed her Jonathan, taking the greatest care with her son. Jocelyn's emotions threatened to overwhelm her as she looked down at Jonathan, because this baby had had so much promise while he had been growing within her, they could have been a normal family, but Valentine had other plans and this was the reality they had all been left with. Jonathan's black eyes stared up at her, and Jocelyn settled a little with him in her arms, though the repulsion she felt whenever she held him. She held back a grimace, and Valentine smiled triumphantly, as though her lack of a reaction was cause for celebration. Jocelyn made sure to smile at Valentine lovingly, as she always had, even though within she felt nothing but hatred. It burned with a passion which could never be matched, or extinguished. Jocelyn sniffed back, and leant towards her husband,
"I'm glad you're home." She said, managing to regain the confidence within her voice. Valentine leant over to kiss her hungrily. She responded in kind, forcing the repulsion and hatred from her thoughts. Right now, all she could think of was placing a well aimed knife through Valentine's chest, and yet she knew she could not. Not yet anyway. What good would it do her children if she was strung up for murder?
"And how are you feeling, sweetheart?" Valentine asked her gently as he slipped one arm around her waist. Jocelyn stopped herself from tensing up,
"Well enough, thank you." He smiled at her,
"I am glad to hear it Jocelyn." He paused, "Do you need me to help you get ready for bed?" Though Valentine had said that to her nearly every night now for the last few months, given she had barely got out of bed since mid-way through her pregnancy, now the words almost seemed to burn with how patronising they were.
"No." She said gently, as she began to rock Jonathan gently, "I'm feeling much better, Valentine." Jocelyn forced her words out, in the same way she forced emotion into them. Valentine beamed on at her, and ran his hand smoothly through her hair,
"Then I will leave you to get yourself and Jonathan ready for bed." Valentine kissed her cheek tenderly and then got up, and left to go downstairs. Jocelyn remained silent, though she was sure he had just gone through the cellar door. A shiver ran over her, and she looked down at her son, wondering how different this all would have been if she'd gone down there months ago.