: Author's Note : I am really sorry for taking my time with the updates. The thing is that I have to write a 15 pages-homework until March 24th, and – God – it's important. But after that, I swear, I'll make it all up to you! I already have the plot for the next chapters in my head.
: Disclaimer : I don't own POTO.
: Thanks to : Snarky.Kitty.Dahlinz, Gerardphantomhot, Lady-Miranda-Van-Tassel
: Warning : Last time I'll say this. Read warning of Chapter 1.P I guess you're smart enough to calculate that my story won't be full of love or happy pink clouds!
: Beta-Reader : Lady-Miranda-Van-Tassel, Incapability
The Empty Cage
Chapter 4 - Eyes
I woke up in the middle of the night as a cold wind touched my face. A little somnolent, I sat up and took a look around in the dark room which was enlightened by moonlight. As my eyes focused on the direction where the wind came from, I saw that the window was open. A sigh escaped my lips. My body felt weak as I stood up and moved towards it, as if I had slept for ages instead of a couple of hours. Those days, my body ignored my wants and urged me to give it enough of its needs. Thank God Monsieur hadn't noticed my weakness, otherwise he might have thought I would be unable to bear him the child he had wanted for so long.
I closed the window with my fingertips and stared outside for some moments. Something had activated my mind and a shiver ran down my spine, leaving me highly uncomfortable. The street was empty, only some noises from further away were to be heard. That must have been the other people who were still awake at such a late hour. Paris never slept. But who had opened the window? I turned back to face the bed, thinking about Monsieur. Apparently, he was deeply asleep and I could hear his breath. Frowning, I looked out of the window again. My hands began to shake and I gulped. Who had opened the window?
Closing my eyes, I slowly turned back around. I feared something I couldn't see - something? My hands shook so badly I grabbed my nightgown to hide it. The beat of my heart rushed through my ears, increasing its pace.
I felt stupid. 'It is only an open window', I said to myself thousands of times. 'It's nothing. Open your eyes, Antoinette. You're safe.' I opened my eyes to find myself facing the bed again. On the left of it, there was nothing but empty space. On the right, on the bedside I always slept, a heavy curtain hung on the wall that Monsieur had instructed to be painted. It would be a present for me, and nobody was allowed to look behind the curtain when I was in the room. I stared at it, taking a few steps back as my back hit the wall with a dull noise. The curtain.
The curtain.
Could it be?
The curtain.
I sank to the floor, breathing heavily as I saw the curtain move. No noise of angst found the way out of my throat, for I was occupied with staring at it. My eyes filled with tears which immediately ran down my cheeks. 'Monsieur!', I thought, again and again. 'Monsieur!' But my husband noticed none of the happenings.
Then, after what seemed like hours of waiting for some magic to relieve me from my fears, the curtain moved aside.
He had a black cape which he had wrapped around himself. His white mask drew my attention to his eyes that were looking at me calmly.
Too calmly.
I closed my eyes, hoping he would be gone when I opened them again. But he wasn't. He still stood there, looking at me. It was no look of anger, no look of disgust - neither was it a look full of joy. My heart beat so hard against my chest I had the feeling it would burst open and I would die. Now, years later, I know that death is still what I hope for - but I never got what I asked for from life.
He noiselessly stepped forward. I pushed myself against the wall, trying to force it to swallow me. His eyes still looked at me, would not leave my eyes. As he stretched out a hand, I closed my eyes and ducked, knowing he would slap me, beat me up, throw me out of the window, do everything that could possibly harm me. I only felt his fingers carress my cheek and some moments later, his breath on my skin. It was warm, gentle, as were his lips that laid themselves on mine. The kiss lasted for a long time. I gave up on trying to flee. From that moment on, I knew there was no sense in it. He would find me anywhere. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on my neck. Heat rushed on my cheeks and he moved back.
My fingers touched the wound. It was bleeding, although not too badly. He hid the knife behind his cape and smiled. "I'll come back," he whispered. "And fear that day, Madame Giry. Fear it, Antoinette." Monsieur didn't wake up. And he didn't fear Monsieur. He could kill him within seconds if he had to, his eyes told me so. With that, he stepped next to me, pushing me aside from the window. I obeyed, slid aside and leaned my head against the wall. Tears were still running down my cheeks and the wound he had caused began to burn. It was nothing compared to the burning within me.
Even today, I wonder why I did not commit suicide. The life I had was worse than death could ever be. He knew that. And he played with me. He did whatever pleased him. After this night, he came back. God, he did.
I stood up and left for the bathroom. The mirror on the wall showed my pale face. I was shocked by my own fearful eyes. The blood ran down my cleavage, covering my nightgown in a deep red. I washed the blood off. Sitting down on the floor, I spent several hours in the bathroom. It was comfortable. Early that morning, though, I felt my stomach turn.
The moment I vomited, the servant girl stepped into the room. "Madame! Thank God! I knew you would be pregnant! Ah, and it's only been three days since the marriage. Madame, this is really fast." She sat down next to me, touching my shoulder. "Usually, it takes about a month for the morning sickness to come. But where's all that blood from?"
"I accidentally cut myself," I said, "I walk around in sleep." At least I knew how to lie properly.
"Oh God. You will have a baby. Dear Monsieur will be so proud to become the father of a cute little boy!"
He was not too keen, though, on the boy to be a girl. And much less on the girl to turn blonde after a couple of months - for my family was brown-haired and his whole family had a dark brunette hair color as well.