Lover's Revenge

A cozy warmth had settled around her. She was curled up on some kind of couch, facing a crackling fire. It's orange light danced beyond her closed eyelids. A blanket was wrapped around her and there was a smell in the air. A burning smell like food had been overcooked.

Is Arthur cooking? Came a thought.

Her eyes popped open and she stared a brick fireplace and sat up, glancing around in shock, the quilt slid off her. Where am I? Her mind raced through the fuzzy memories of last night. The last thing she remembered was kissing Arthur and then...

Oh shit! I kissed Arthur! Her first kiss had been to a man she barely knew. Her face felt on fire and she slapped lightly at her cheeks trying to get the blush to stop.

"Amelia? Are you up?" Arthur called, his voice drifting down the hallway from the kitchen. "Breakfast is almost ready!"

That filled her with a sinking sense of horror. She glanced at the window behind her. His flat was three stories up, but it might be better to risk breaking her neck in a fall than to heat whatever Arthur was cooking.

Should I make a break for the door?

Adding to her woes was the idea of facing Arthur after last night. She never wanted to go near alcohol again. She stood up and the hangover slammed her, her skull pounding and she sank back down onto the couch, not wanting to move.

Arthur's slippered feet shuffled on the floorboards as he came in balancing a tray with a porcelain teacup decorated with blue flowers on its rim and saucer. There was a plate and something sizzling on it.

"I made bacon and toast for you," Arthur declared happily and set the tray on the coffee table before her.

"Bacon and toast..." she trailed off, staring at the blackened mass before her. The toast looked edible, at least one. She forced a grin, "Just what one needs for a hangover!" She lied. Did Arthur not know anything about hangovers? Was he trying to make her sick? Was this punishment for last night.

"There a little well done," he said, looking away in embarrassment, "But I made them in a shape."

Now that she looked closer she saw the bacon strips were laid out in a heart-shape. A blackened, shriveled heart-shape. Like what her stomach would look like if she ate it.

"How... n-nice," she said in a shaky voice, seriously debating the window escape route.

"I have the shower ready. I know you probably want to clean up after...," he coughed, "last night."

Her whole body jumped several degrees in heat and her heart hammered in her chest. "What h-happened?" she asked weakly. "Did we...?"

He shook his head emphatically, "Oh no, no! I'm a gentleman! I'd never do that to an inebriated lady."

In-bre...what was that?

"Go on, eat up," he smiled.

"Um..." she picked up the toast and bit into the non-burned parts. Arthur stared at her expectantly. "It's... yummy," she said.

"Do you mean it?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah," she swallowed, willing herself not to turn green. Now she wished the blush was back. "I think I need to let it cool first," she said. "You said the shower is ready?"

"Oh yes, this way," he said, standing up. "I left you clean towels and a robe."

She looked down and nearly screamed. She was not in the dress. "Did you change me?" she asked.

"I shut my eyes the whole time," he said, looking mortified. "It's just you threw up and I needed to clean that dress befo-"

"I hurled?" she gasped.

"Only a little," he said. "Most of it got me."

"I hurled on you!" she cried in horror. That was worse. "Oh man."

"Stains are coming right out. The frog will never know any got on that dress... and purse... and shoes."

"Oh God, let me never drink again," she moaned, wanting to beat her head into the drywall. She stared down at the scarlet-red pajamas with unicorn imprints all over. She still at her underclothing on. "Wait," she said, examining herself, "Are these your pajamas?"

"W-what?" he said turning scarlet-red. "Of course not! I'd never dress in something so cute. I'm a man."

"Then why do you have them?"

"They a gift from that frog," he answered. "Such a kidder. Thinking I'd ever wear something like that! As if!" he threw his head back laughing. "Well, you'd better hurry and showed. Hate to waste water."

He put a hand on her shoulder, urging her down the hall. She raised an eyebrow at him and went on her way. But then Arthur paused and looked at her seriously. "Amerlia," he said, "About last night. My offer. I was wondering..."

"If I'll stay?" she said. "Yeah. I'd like to do that."

"Really, but last night?"

"I was drunk. I thought more of what I wanted. Now that I'm sober I can see better what I need. We'll make a contract," she said, "And one day when I'm more financially sound I'll pay everything back."

"You don't ha-"

"I will," she said. "But right now, I need a place to stay."

He nodded and let go. "As long as you like."

Dangerous words, she thought, heading down the hall.

So this is what liking someone mutually feels like?

She shook her head. "No, he just feels sorry for me," she mumbled. After entering the bathroom, she smiled as she saw a neatly folded cream-colored towel on top of the wicker hamper and a matching robe. The white tiled bathroom looked recently renovated and the shower head hung over a tub with four legs. A sink and mirror were to the right with an oval-shaped, green colored rug. And fairy pictures hung everywhere.

Does Arthur have a thing for fairies? She wondered, undoing the buttons of her pajamas.

When she finished undressing, she stepped into the bath and pulled the green, plastic curtain shut. Pausing, she examined it closer and saw white unicorns in various poses imprinted all over it.

She leaned around the curtain and looked above the pine door to see a plaque that read in gold lettering, "I DO BELIEVE IN FAIRIES" and beneath those were a set of hands clapping.

"Strange," she muttered. Turning on the hot water she nearly shrieked when cold water needled her skin, but it quickly turned too hot and she turned up the cold. Eventually, she found a balance between the hot and cold that was comfortable. "Ah, soap."

Looking at a little basket next to the sink she found two silver bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a pale pink one for body lotion. Almost by instinct she started to rush, to finished as quickly as possible and then stopped herself.

No, she decided. I'll take a leisurely shower.

When she lived with Ivan she always limited herself to showers shorter than ten minutes in the morning because Ivan liked to take long ones and didn't want to get up too early. He'd often complain about her using too much hot waters and making it difficult for his hour long ones. To avoid this she kept her showers as short as possible and kept the water on lukewarm even in winter.

The heater in their bathroom had not been the best so she'd usually walk out with teeth chatter. But it'd been worth it for Ivan or so she believed at the time.

Frowning, she turned up the water hotter having set it to lukewarm by instinct.

All for that jerk, she thought bitterly. Her hands curled into fists as she tried to force him out of her head. Maybe if she could just bury the pain and the memories deep down they'd go away. Just choke down all her humiliation and hurt. And then one day maybe she'd forgive herself for being so stupid and allowing it to happen.

If only I'd listen to my brother that time...

She swallowed hard, bitter tears stung her eyes. Hot water coursed over her skin, so hot it was almost painful. It ran in steamy rivulets and washed away her salty tears. Slowly she sank down, head bowed, and hugged her legs to her chest. Water poured over her, but it didn't feel like it cleaned her. The stains in her polluted heart could never be cleansed. The wound was still ugly and far from closing.

Why was I so stupid?

That question haunted her. But she knew one that hurt worse.

Why didn't Ivan love me?

She silently cried, her chest aching from the force of keeping the sobs hidden. But one thought, like a poke of light, lifted her a little.

Arthur likes you.

"He pities me," she said.

He kissed you and called you beautiful.

"Just being nice." she reminded herself. And even if it was genuine, did it matter? What kind of relationship could they have when she was dependent on his charity? If she ran with her heart like before, she'd make all the same mistakes with Arthur that she did with Ivan. She'd lose herself in her drive to make Arthur happy.

Arthur will not be Ivan's replacement.

Her grip on her arms tightened, her fingers clenching against her wet skin. She lifted her gaze level to the brass bath faucet.

I'll stand on my own. I'll define myself. Not by Arthur. Not by Ivan.

If there was to be any hope of real love, equal love, she'd have to pull herself together first. And that meant, she wouldn't be with Arthur until she could take of herself. When I can stand proudly on my own accomplishments, then I'll consider a relationship with Arthur.

But the way seemed long. Her heart was broken in a million pieces.

If it takes a million years...

She would do it.

"Hearts are stronger," she whispered and grabbed the soap.

I must do this alone. And trust no one. No one must ever touch my heart again.

Not even Arthur. Not until...

11111111111111111101111111111111111

Ivan was smoking heavily in his office when Estonia entered, or that was his "code name", and after giving a curt greeting, brought over his report in a manilla folder.

"Well, did you find her?" Ivan said, blowing out a long puff of smoke. "What's the bitch been up to?"

"You can see for yourself," Estonia answered, opening the folder to reveal a photo of Amelia smiling in her red and orange McDonald's outfit with that idiotic grin on her face. Below her name it read in black letters, "Employee of the Month". Ivan had gone to her old work place and found it still there. He'd taken it and given it to Estonia as Ivan didn't actually have a single photo of his own of Amelia.

When he picked it up, he saw a stack of black and white portrait-size photos beneath it. They were Amelia in that dress, Amelia walking down a street, and her entering some rundown building. But it was the one taken seconds after her entering the building that caught him.

"Why is Arthur entering this building?"

"I checked on that. It's a flat registered to the Kirkland name. I suspect both have taken up residence there."

"There living together?" Ivan said, smashing his cigar in the ash tray, he stood up. "Don't let her out of your sight. I want to know everything."

"Whatever you want," Estonia said in his dead-pan way.

Ivan couldn't accept this. She'd obsessed over him forever and now she would just run off and obsessive over that British prick?

She is the type to throw herself over people she likes, he thought, and I never gave her permission to leave me.

TBC...