This story has a few chapters left. I am so excited to be this close to finishing a story several years old. I can promise you this: the story will be ending on a moral quandary that hopefully sticks in everyone's memories or at least makes people shift around in their seats. Thank you Engymass for editing!
It was a new room with old walls. The unfinished brick was filled in with crumbling mortar which pebbled through the grout lines like dried frosting. The lighting left too many shadows on the walls and filled the room with dull buzzing sounds. Jonathan sat next to her on the dust covered bed and she flinched when his legs fanned out against her calves.
He sighed and rubbed at her shoulder. "I'll talk to Jervis. Tonight, just try to sleep." There was so much more he wanted to say. He wanted to scold her, to tell her how important her next actions would become in their new home. Instead, he touched her hand with a gentle pat and exited the room.
Jonathan entered the little kitchen and breathed in the dusty air. It really was not much. There was a hot plate sitting on a white linoleum countertop. The plug was hanging partially in the metal basin sink which was hazardous because the faucet often overshot the basin. "Jervis we need to talk." Jonathan held his breath. He needed to keep his composure. Jervis was still volatile and eager to cause mayhem.
"About what?" Jervis pulled his tea cup from its coster and took a small sip of the steaming liquid.
"The girl." Jonathan decided saying less would suffice as more.
"The one that ran out the front door or the cunt who opened that bloody door?" Jervis slammed the teacup down hard. His hat fell down his head at a tilt but he did not adjust it.
"The cunt." Jonathan did not mind using vulgar language when it served a purpose. He needed Jervis to be fair, not angry.
"Sounds like a pleasant discussion. Very well, do go on." Jervis tucked his shoulders back and frowned. He would have liked Jonathan to argue more.
"I'd like you to leave her be. I will deal with her punishment." He knew that he could punish her without causing her any unnecessary trauma. Jervis would only end up killing the poor girl. "Can you be satisfied with this arrangement?" Jonathan crossed his legs at the ankles and waited.
"I want her to apologize. I'd be satisfied if she apologized over tea." Jervis rubbed his temples. He could be lenient if it only happened once. Jonathan could hardly be held at fault for trying to keep his own Wonderland from shattering. Although, for the girl, Jervis was not above being churlish.
"No punishment? I know you better than that." Jonathan wanted a promise. He knew Jervis better than most. He remembered the tea parties with headless guests. He knew where Jervis kept his red stained table cloths. The types of souvenirs he kept inside a storage unit in Connecticut.
"We both know the best punishment is going to come from you sooner or later. I don't need it to come on my behalf." Jervis gave a small huff. He knew Jonathan wanted him to behave, but he wanted to go mad.
"Just an apology then?" Jonathan declined the opportunity to bicker. He did not need to yell and holler to make his point. Jervis understood him better than most.
"I give my word as a gentleman. I will not do anything drastic to harm the little dear." Jervis extended his arm out to Jonathan.
"Nothing drastic?" Jonathan took the offered palm and shook.
"Nothing drastic." It was a curt response paired with a reluctant nod.
—
She read the invitation with slow eyes. There was going to be a tea party at three in the living room. "I'm not going."
"You are." Crane bit into his cheek.
"He threw me down the stairs. I am not going." She tossed the invitation onto the bed. She would have crumpled the paper entirely were she not certain that Jonathan would react by forcing her there immediately.
"It's an olive branch. The polite thing to do is go." He pulled the invitation off from the bed and thumbed the pop-up rabbit. The drawing was a considerate touch. Although, he wondered if there was a second meaning to the rabbit.
"Do I have a choice?" She rolled onto her stomach and glared.
"You can choose to go." Crane flicked her nose and grinned when she flinched.
"Or?" She scrunched her nose and recoiled at the stinging touch.
"Therapy." He leaned down and kissed her nose quickly. He didn't want her to have time to duck away.
"Fine. I'll go." Megeara rolled over and landed on her feet. She did not like his kisses. He liked to catch her off guard and usually took it too far.
—
She sat at the table and stared. Jervis was glowering from the other end of the table and staring at an empty cup.
"I made an apology tea. It's my least favorite special tea." He leaned over his place set and directed his baleful eyes at the girl.
"I guess I'll pour." Megeara rose from her seat and reached for the teapot.
"Two large lumps." Jervis pointed to the sugar bowl and smirked. He remembered her bruises fondly.
She froze because she knew he was not talking about the bowl of sugar. She had to breathe to prevent the memories from returning. "No problem."
"Here. Allow me my dear." Jervis placed his gloved hands purposely against her hand.
She nearly dropped the teapot when she felt him brush across her fingers.
"I'll pour you a cup." He pushed back his chair and stood. She froze as he moved behind her with the teapot and hovered by her cup. "Would you like one lump or two?"
"None." She gritted her teeth. He was trying to get her to do something stupid. She wasn't sure what he was pushing her to do, but she refused to let him guide her into a folly.
He set the teapot down and smiled with a toothy grin. "Not surprising. I thought you might prefer bitter tastes."
She wanted to hit him if only to feel her bony knuckles bounce off his big fat nose. She smiled instead with just her lips. "I like things to taste the way they should." She reached forward and sipped at the hot beverage.
"Hungry? I made biscuits." He held up a heart shaped cookie with `Eat me' scrawled in icing on top of the cookie. "This one's for you."
"So, you're still mad." She took the cookie and bit down. It was delicious, but she despised the taste.
"I am the Mad Hatter." He moved to his chair and sat.
"I liked it better when you were nice." She had to speak carefully, otherwise he would probably kill her.
"I liked it better when you weren't a bitch." He wanted to call her a much worse name. However, a lady was still a lady.
"The cookie was good." She changed the subject quickly, hoping that baking was the safer topic.
"How long do you think you'll stay here?" Jervis removed his gloves and bit down on a checkered cookie. "I think you'll be here until the day you die. Isn't that wonderful?"
"I do believe you're right." She grabbed another cookie because she knew better than to bite off on his words.
—-
Jonathan came to collect her from the tea party. He spent most of his time hovering at the door ready to intervene. He was pleased the conversation was running as civilly as expected.
He supposed the two were capable of existing in the same space without falling into violence. "May I take her?" Jonathan entered the room and took a cookie from the tray.
"Certainly." Jervis smiled and gestured for them to exit.
"Come along." Crane pulled out her chair.
"What are we doing today?" Meg held his hand and tried to keep up with his long steps.
"Therapy." Crane enjoyed holding her hand in his. He liked the warmth of her palm.
"You said that I could choose between therapy and the tea party." Meg stopped walking and pulled at his hand.
"It will be a lighter session today. No toxin." Crane let himself get pulled down and wagged his finger. He stood and led her towards a metal door. He pulled the door open and Meg followed him down the steps.
"What are we doing down here?" They were in a new basement with multiple metal enclosures built into the concrete floors.
"We are going for a drive." Jonathan pulled her into one of the enclosures where a man stood chained to the wall and blindfolded.
"Then why are we in the basement?" She looked at the man and wondered why he wasn't speaking.
"I want to motivate you." Jonathan pulled a microchip free from the man's ear. Immediately, the man began calling for help and struggling.
"What are you doing with him?" She heard the man begin to whimper and whisper horrible things. She wanted to get out of the cage.
"Him? Yes. Well, I found him outside the building, and I couldn't resist." Jonathan pulled a syringe from a cart and flicked the glass to ensure there were no air bubbles within the tube. He didn't want the man to die from a stroke.
"What are you going to do with him?" She felt horrible that there was nothing she could do to stop Jonathan. She knew he wasn't going to stop on her behalf. She watched his eyes as he lifted the syringe, knowing that he was enjoying causing the man's fear.
"How did you think I was going to guarantee you drive back home? Did you think we'd hold out our pinkies and swear?" He inserted the syringe into the man's neck and reached for alcohol to swab the wound clean. He covered the wound with cloth and tape. He only bothered to clean the wound because he didn't want her to think badly of his clinical skills.
"So, here is my deal." Jonathan pulled off his gloves without touching his skin. "You drive. You come back." His long fingers gesture in both directions. "He lives." He pointed his thumb at the hyperventilating man.
"How long does he have?" She closed her eyes. She could swallow her fear again if it meant saving a life.
"Probably an hour. But let's play it safe and call it thirty minutes." Crane flashed his crooked teeth and led her up the stairs and outside the house.
She hopped into the car and waited for Crane to enter the passenger side of the vehicle. She took calming breaths when he handed her the keys. She started the engine with a click. "Where are we headed?"
"Just around the block." Jonathan buckled his seatbelt.
"If I have to drive can you at least put on some music?" Her grip on the wheel was too tight and she could not figure out how to move her fingers towards the buttons to fiddle with the radio. Her palms were sweating and causing her grip to slide around the wheel. She just needed a distraction.
The drive was everything she hated. A horn startled her at a crosswalk and she pressed the gas but had to stamp on the break because an elderly man was ambling across the street. A pigeon dived across a traffic lane and landed after nearly hitting the surface of her windshield. She stopped at a red light with sweat soaking her shirt collar. When a car behind her gunned its engine and vaulted in front of her car her heart hammered. Cars were so dangerous.
Jonathan rolled down his window and looked across the street at the other vehicle. "It's a nice day, isn't it?"
"Yeah." She adjusted her grip and focused on the light. It was red. Then it was green and another car honked. She kept driving straight.
"I can drive us back." Jonathan doubted she knew the way back and he could tell she was losing her composure. "Just pull over into that parking lot."
As she moved to unclick her seatbelt, his hand grabbed hers, still against the clasp.
"If you run or try to signal for help that man will die." He felt unhappy that he needed to remind her. "Even in the best case scenario where someone comes to your aid, do not think for one second that I won't kill to keep what's mine." He tried to ease the tension by smiling. "Alright. My turn to drive." He unclicked the seatbelt.
She sat frozen. She did not move from her seat when he opened the door to let her get out.
"Megaera. Get in the passenger seat." He tried to be gentle but he felt uncomfortable standing exposed in a parking lot. She finally exited her seat and calmed his nerves by making her way to the other side of the vehicle.
He drove them back and administered the antidote. He repeated the routine of therapy as part of her daily schedule. He used the people he found outside the building to keep her compliant and she was reasonably obedient until the first one died. That was a significant setback.
She tossed the keys onto the nearest surface and followed Jonathan into the cage to make sure he actually gave the new victim the antidote.
"Don't look." Jonathan regretted allowing her to follow him through the cage's threshold. There were no visible signs of breathing and his test subject's eyes were fixed open in fright.
"Oh my god. Is he dead?" She saw the limp body and wanted to escape. The man's eyes were still open. He had green eyes. She couldn't register any of Jonathan's words.
"I told you not to look." Crane covered her eyes with his hand and led her out from the cage.
"You killed him!" She pulled at his arms and looked into his blue eyes, still remembering the wide, horror-stricken green ones.
"Cardiac arrest. It happens - occasionally." Jonathan flicked his eyes towards the dead test subject and shrugged. It was a rare enough occurrence that he had not worried this would happen. Most drugs warned that side effects may cause death, so he felt her reaction was unwarranted.
"You said if I got back in time he would live." She felt angry. He lied. He knew that they could die regardless of whether she made it back on time. He knew there was a risk, but he chose to say nothing.
"There are no guarantees in life." He felt the progress he made in her treatment slipping away. He tried to divert her attention away from the corpse, but was not large enough to block the dead man completely from her view. He settled for placing his hand against the small of her back and guiding her elsewhere.
"You really are awful. I almost forgot how fucked up you are." She moved away from his touch and tried to bolt for the stairs.
"Mind your words." He grabbed her roughly and reflexively pulled her into his torso. His arm wrapped firmly around her windpipe. He knew better than to squeeze, but was satisfied he could. "You still have to share the bed with me. You wouldn't want me to go to bed angry." He relaxed his arms and pulled her head up with his other hand retracting from her throat. He nuzzled her head and slowly trailed his unclasping fingers across her neck. He reminded himself that they were past unnecessary violence and relaxed.
—
"Let me guess. Someone died?" Jervis looked up from his magazine. Meg looked frazzled and dreadfully unhappy. Her hair was swept over her ears and her eyes were beautifully bleary.
"You don't sound surprised." She opened the fridge door and grabbed a can of Coke. She pressed the cold beverage against her throat. He grabbed her too hard and she knew he was not going to apologize.
"I'm not. Jonathan has been experimenting for many years. Oh, so, many deaths." Jervis ripped a page from the magazine. It was a picture of a blonde he found appropriately styled.
"The best part is that Jonathan has you now. To keep him focused on his work." He pulled out a pair of scissors and snipped the blonde free from the background of foliage displayed on the page. "He's been getting much better results recently."
"Shut up." She hated how Jervis was acting. He only talked to her when he had something nasty to say.
"You don't like seeing things as they really are." He hummed and ripped out another page. "I don't either. But I have more tact." He held up a page filled with a garden of roses and smiled. He set the paper down and stood. "Tea?" Her throat looked sore.
"You know the last girl hated tea." She moved to the kitchen table and Jervis abruptly left to tend to the kettle on the stove. There was a mess of papers covering the table's surface.
"And the last girl Jonathan had on his table should have died screaming." He returned to his seat and poured the tea into her cup first. "My favorite was the one from his alma mater. She didn't even know the school fight song. What a set of lungs." He poured his cup second.
"Alice hated you the most though." She sipped at her tea and tried to be bold. Her throat hurt and she was tired of taking it.
He calmly placed his cup back on its saucer. "Take it back."
"She thought you were pathetic. She said that she was just trying to be nice to you because you looked so sad. She said you cried a lot." She held up the photo of the blonde and smiled. It didn't really matter what she told him. He deserved the pain whether it came from the truth or a lie.
He should have left the cup on its saucer. Instead, he emptied it onto her lap. She screamed when the hot water seared her thighs.
—
"Goddamn it! Jervis!" Crane saw the liquid on the floor and his girl hissing like a cat.
"She deserved it." Jervis dodged her attack and locked his foot under hers pushing her to the floor.
"He's a lunatic!" She sat on the floor with a bruised bottom and fought the urge to scream.
"He's still my friend." Jonathan pulled her up from the floor and eyed her skin carefully. She had red splotches on her legs, but he doubted anything besides her pride was seriously wounded.
"Are you seriously going to take his side? He gave me third degree tea burns!" She hated Jonathan's height. She wanted to vault over his body and throw herself at Jervis. She was done being afraid and having to survive rather than live.
"I most certainly did not. I gave you first degree burns at the most." Jervis huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "If I wanted to burn you more severely I would have done it with oil, not tea." He squinted his eyes at her and leaned across the table to glare.
"You still burned me." She eyed Jervis from her position and realized Jonathan was not going to let her fight.
"You were being rude." Jervis pointed his finger into her chest.
"Jervis. Enough." Jonathan did not like where this argument was headed and chose to split them apart. He could tell they wanted to fight but he knew that Jervis would win. "Get into your room." Jonathan watched Jervis walk away.
Jervis walked to the table and shuffled the cutouts into a pile and walked across the kitchen with stamping feet and flying papers. Once he left, Jonathan pulled a chair out from the table and gestured for Megeara to sit.
"You took his side." She sat in the chair and felt weary. He chose not to take her side. She was not interesting to him anymore.
"I did." Crane peered down at her wounds. He felt shame because she was burned and he was looking at her thighs without a practical and clinical disinterest. He moved to open a drawer and retrieved an antibiotic ointment. The expiration date on the medication was still good, if just barely.
She sat still as Jonathan rubbed an ointment into her skin and realized that both Jonathan and Jervis were very unpleasant characters. The most terrifying thing was that no matter how sorry Jonathan felt, he clearly thought her life was worth less than his friend's.
