Break Apart
Part 1
She sees him there, standing at the door's threshold, fingers curled tight over the frame of it, peeking at her from behind the wall.
He's crying, his eyes wet and bloodshot, tears slipping silently down his pale, gaunt face.
Lucille stares back at him for long seconds, at her little brother, standing there, weeping. Weeping for her, when she can find no such sentiment in her own heart for herself.
She wonders at him. Wonders at his innocence. At his goodness.
Her brother is good. He is sweet, and kind, and thoughtful, and Lucille knows, at nine years old, that the world is going to eat him alive.
Knows that it already begins to.
For Thomas understands nothing, and he of such wilting and gentle disposition.
Father hates him for it. Hates him for his fragility. And such hatred he expresses when he beats Thomas to senselessness. When he strikes her small, kind, sweet brother over and over and over upon the crown with hard, great fists, until Thomas lies broken at his feet, small and ruined and dead to the world.
One day, Lucille thinks, Father's cruelty will kill him. She thinks, too, that she cannot allow that to happen. She cannot.
Today, it is her who has tasted the cruelty of their parent's. Mother, now.
They'd been caught outside the nursery, her and Thomas. It had been her idea, to play on the stairs, and Thomas, being as he was, had followed, despite his plain fear of being found out.
Still, he'd followed.
Mother had heard them, despite their efforts to keep quiet.
The moment she'd heard the creak of floorboards, and the soft drag of Mother's gown against the wood, she'd sent Thomas straight away, back to the attic. He hadn't wanted to go. He never did. Never wanted her to suffer alone, never wanted her to endure Mother's wrath for him. But Lucille had ordered it, and again, being as he is, he'd obeyed, and scurried away just in time.
The canning had been savage, leaving Lucille bloody and broken on the steps, where still she lies now, hardly able to move.
And there her brother stands, looking at her, crying deeply, swallowing down his sobs, lest he draw Mother's attention again.
Lucille stares back, and she thinks not for the first time in her young life how he is all she has. This little boy, this fragile child who understands so little of the world despite everyday being so mercilessly exposed to it's hatred. This boy who loves her so truly.
He is all she has, and she thinks then, for the first time, how she can never let him go. How she must keep him with her, always.
For without him, she will have nothing... will be nothing...
She must keep him, no matter what.
And she thinks then of his innocence, thinks how easily he listens to her... how truly he trusts her, trusts her words, and a thought comes to her then... an awful thought, a cruel, awful, selfish thought...
But she can't lose him. Can't ever lose him...
"Thomas," she calls to him then. "come here."
He does, stepping out from the door's frame, coming nearer. Halfway to her, he stops, hesitating, wiping clumsily at his eyes with the heels of his palms. She sees him swallow thickly, and again, hiccuping on his choked down sobs.
"Come here Thomas." She tells him again, voice a little firmer, and he starts towards her again, his steps slow and fearful.
She manages with difficulty to push herself up to sitting, her back torn to shreds as it is, the pain nearly blinding in its intensity.
When at last he reaches her, he loses control of his composure, crumpling atop the landing beside her, small hands reaching for her, fingers burying in her rumpled and torn dress.
"I'm sorry." He chokes out, voice thick and heavy with his tears. "I'm sorry Lucille!"
She holds him back, pulling him to her chest and kissing the crown of his head, hushing him gently, rocking him slowly.
He weeps against her, his tears soaking through the flimsy material of her gown as he begins to shake.
"I'm sorry." He cries again, voice muffled where his face is pressed.
She doesn't say anything for long minutes, only continuing to rock him. Her arms squeeze tighter round him, tight enough to where she knows it must hurt, until he struggles in her hold, whining faintly.
"L-Lucille...?" he starts, confusion in his voice, but no fear. Never fear. Not for her.
"Thomas," she at last breathes, and she's shocked at the coldness of her own tone. "Thomas, do you see what you've done?"
He starts, pulling back and looking up at her, the same confusion that had been in his voice now mirrored in his face, and now too there is fear, still not for her, but, she knows, for what she's said.
"You should be sorry." She goes on, voice still as cold, still as without emotion, staring him in his eyes. "You wanted to play out here, on the stairs. You made too much noise and Mother caught us. It's your fault I got beaten today."
It makes her feel a slight hesitation when she sees Thomas' confusion bloom into naked panic, his face seeming to crumple before her, his eyes filling with fresh tears. Only... the look too fills her with a kind of odd thrill, to see how easily she's managed to break him so fully apart.
"I..." he starts, voice wavering and reed thin. "I didn't, th-though... I didn't want... I didn't mean..."
"You wanted to play out here, remember Thomas?" She pushes on, relentless. "I agreed, because I wanted you to be happy. But it was your idea, and then you made too much noise."
"B-but I... I thought... I thought..." he stammers, and she sees the doubt in his eyes, sees how he already believes her, already is questioning his own memory.
"It's alright." She tells him softly, bending down and kissing his cheek. "It's alright, because you're sorry, and I forgive you. But you have to promise me Thomas... you have to promise me you'll always stay. You'll always stay with me, no matter what. Show me you really love me, that you're really sorry."
"I will!" Thomas cries, voice urgent and desperate. "I won't leave you Lucille, I promise! Not ever! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! You have to believe me!"
Lucille smiles at him then, stroking his black, curly hair back off his forehead, soothing and gentle.
"I do." She tells him. "I do."
/
AN: Gah, so... I'm not entirely happy with the direction my first attempt at "Crimson Peak" fan fic went, so I'm posting this new try up. I think I'll make it multi-part, but I'm still trying to figure out how to write these two and their dynamic, so, there you go. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it, and as always, feedback is always appreciated!