Part 10
One is the Loneliest Number
Eberts sleeps soundly in my arms, as we go on this hell ride.He is oblivous to the world around him. I want him to wake up, but I don't. I want to see his blue eyes, but I don't want him to know what is going on. He'll probably be in much pain when he wakes up. Arnaud has been preoccupied with his own sinister thoughts, since he finished his little tirade with his AK-47. I can't even imagine what he has planned for us. I don't want him to hurt Eberts anymore, but I have a feeling he will.This feels like a horrible dream, and I want to tell my self, Alex, wake up, but I know it won't work, since it isn't a dream. It must be worst for Eberts, I can't imagine what that must of felt like. The electrocution, then the whipping, then being shot. I haven't even been hurt yet, and yet I am scared out of my mind.
I watch Arnaud out of the corner of my eye, as I gaze down upon Eberts. He stirs slightly, as he sleep, but he is so still, so perfectly silent, it is almost if I can hear the bells ringing to announce his funeral.Though I have a feeling his funereal may be very small. I can see him now in the comfy casket, with blue lining.The small boquets of lilies, and white mums, the heavly perfumed aunts crying over him, probably Jasmine.The Official tears running down his checks. Bobby saying "I know he shouldn't have been at the agency, he didn't fit in. Claire sobbing next to the Official in her little white handkercheif. Fawkes slapping Hobbes in the back of his head for his comments. Wait, what am I talking about, I am being Morbid. That is one place I do not want to attend in a long while. I do not want to be seen hovering over his grave crying my eyes out. That is one image of Alexandra Monroe, the agency does not need to see, at least not right now. I think I will keep them with the impression I am one bad Mama for awhile, it suits my purpose and helps me keep my true self locked away, until I feel I am not to vulnerable to show it.It is not time to remove my well used mask, just yet.
Eberts opens his eyes.He gazes up at me like he can't see me. He looks in the direction of Arnaud, and around the limo, absentmindly, almost as if he was blind.He begins to laugh, maddly.
"Not that again." Arnaud grumbles.
Eberts continues to laugh for a bit more, then goes back to sleep. I wonder what they've done to him. Arnaud looks angry like he did not have that in mind.He scowls at Eberts. "Make sure he does not do that again!" He snaps. He murmurs something about un souris bete under his breath.
I can't imagine cracking up like that. Poor baby, what a great strain it must have been on his. He's going to need more help then Robert. I can see how anyone would crack under that pressure though. But that means he probably will never be the same again, does that mean I have lost the man of my dreams before I could even confirm it.Have I been cheated again of happiness?That isn't right. I thought it couldn't be possible after my son was taken away, and then after I found out he wasn't really my son. What am I a pawn to play to wreck with my emotions.
I continue to watch Eberts the rest of the way, distraut on my cruel destiny. He doesn't wake up again, but he looks like an angel as he sleeps. When I look up from his face, I realize we have stopped and have pulled into a large white building.
One is the Loneliest Number
Eberts sleeps soundly in my arms, as we go on this hell ride.He is oblivous to the world around him. I want him to wake up, but I don't. I want to see his blue eyes, but I don't want him to know what is going on. He'll probably be in much pain when he wakes up. Arnaud has been preoccupied with his own sinister thoughts, since he finished his little tirade with his AK-47. I can't even imagine what he has planned for us. I don't want him to hurt Eberts anymore, but I have a feeling he will.This feels like a horrible dream, and I want to tell my self, Alex, wake up, but I know it won't work, since it isn't a dream. It must be worst for Eberts, I can't imagine what that must of felt like. The electrocution, then the whipping, then being shot. I haven't even been hurt yet, and yet I am scared out of my mind.
I watch Arnaud out of the corner of my eye, as I gaze down upon Eberts. He stirs slightly, as he sleep, but he is so still, so perfectly silent, it is almost if I can hear the bells ringing to announce his funeral.Though I have a feeling his funereal may be very small. I can see him now in the comfy casket, with blue lining.The small boquets of lilies, and white mums, the heavly perfumed aunts crying over him, probably Jasmine.The Official tears running down his checks. Bobby saying "I know he shouldn't have been at the agency, he didn't fit in. Claire sobbing next to the Official in her little white handkercheif. Fawkes slapping Hobbes in the back of his head for his comments. Wait, what am I talking about, I am being Morbid. That is one place I do not want to attend in a long while. I do not want to be seen hovering over his grave crying my eyes out. That is one image of Alexandra Monroe, the agency does not need to see, at least not right now. I think I will keep them with the impression I am one bad Mama for awhile, it suits my purpose and helps me keep my true self locked away, until I feel I am not to vulnerable to show it.It is not time to remove my well used mask, just yet.
Eberts opens his eyes.He gazes up at me like he can't see me. He looks in the direction of Arnaud, and around the limo, absentmindly, almost as if he was blind.He begins to laugh, maddly.
"Not that again." Arnaud grumbles.
Eberts continues to laugh for a bit more, then goes back to sleep. I wonder what they've done to him. Arnaud looks angry like he did not have that in mind.He scowls at Eberts. "Make sure he does not do that again!" He snaps. He murmurs something about un souris bete under his breath.
I can't imagine cracking up like that. Poor baby, what a great strain it must have been on his. He's going to need more help then Robert. I can see how anyone would crack under that pressure though. But that means he probably will never be the same again, does that mean I have lost the man of my dreams before I could even confirm it.Have I been cheated again of happiness?That isn't right. I thought it couldn't be possible after my son was taken away, and then after I found out he wasn't really my son. What am I a pawn to play to wreck with my emotions.
I continue to watch Eberts the rest of the way, distraut on my cruel destiny. He doesn't wake up again, but he looks like an angel as he sleeps. When I look up from his face, I realize we have stopped and have pulled into a large white building.