Blink

Gradually, she stepped back toward the bathroom. It wasn't a conscious reaction, or a controllable one. The loud banging of Claire's high-heel shoe slamming into the drywall on the ceiling. The raining of dust with each hit as the hole grew larger. Hedwig yelling through the closed door. Her shoulders flinched up with each bang of Claire's heel.

Too loud. Too messy. Too much.

Casey and Marcia were shoved up against the door, keeping him out on the other side. Claire jumped desperately on the cot, staining to reach the ceiling as she grabbed handfuls of the drywall and pulled them off in chunks. A large grate became visible beyond the careful drywalling job. The others saw it as a possible way out, an escape route, but she knew better. It couldn't be that simple.

The winding halls he had walked her through on their way to this room, the turns and the stairs seemed never ending. They were deep underground, and god knows what the layout of the vents looked like above them. It would be a worse maze than if they tried to make a run for it beyond the locked doors.

"Adel, help me!" Claire gasped, tossing aside the grate. She was too short to reach it on her own, and it wasn't like the cot had much bounce to it. Claire already had trouble reaching far enough to rip off the drywall, how was she going to get up into the vents?

Adel? What gives you the right?

Adelais was tall, taller than the rest of them, and could provide the boost necessary for her to reach.

"You're gunna get-you're gunna get me into trouble," Hedwig called through the door, shoving against Marcia and Casey with little results. He was only nine, he didn't have the conscious ability to use the strength that Dennis possessed. That his body possessed. Truly, he sounded scared. It made her insides ache as she remembered her own pleas after angering her parents.

Shaking her head, Adelais pressed her hand over her eyes. The throbbing headache had returned full force, pulsing behind her eyes like something was trying to break free from her skull. "He's going to be so angry," she breathed out to herself, already able to imagine the look on Dennis's face when he finally got through Hedwig and was able to see what they had done. "You're just going to make him angry!"

The soft hazel that ringed the center of her iris blew outward, expanding like a virus carried through blood.

A fit of rage, too much for the young fourteen-year-old to contain, saw her throwing the clock her mother had programmed directly into the full-length mirror. The glass shattered with a spectacular crack, but only a small handful of shards fell free from the center where the plastic device made contact. It was minimal cleanup. The rest of the mirror now had large cracks marring the surface and distorting reflections.

However, the sound had been enough to draw her parents' attention. The thundering of her father's footsteps up the old staircase was her warning, but she was still standing in the center of the open attic heaving for breath. Her anger had bled from her the moment the clock had left her fingers, replacing the boiling of her blood with frigid, icy fear.

The attic door flew open hard enough for the doorhandle to dent the pressboard behind it, leaving a perfect circular shape.

One glance at the mirror saw her father's face going purple, his rage drawing all of the blood to the surface. She didn't try to run—where would she go?—and stood still as he delivered a backhand across her cheek with enough force to throw her backward, the skin at the corner of her mouth splitting open. They would scold her for bleeding on the old rug that covered the floor.

"What did you do?" her mother shrieked, seeing the spider-web splinters that ruined the mirror. The alarm-clock had broken on impact, several pieces of plastic flying in different directions as the small screen cracked clean across. It lay on the floor among the pieces of broken mirror.

Sprawled on her back, the world foggy and spinning after first her father's blow, and then the collision with the floor, Adelais wasn't aware of her mother's murderous charge until it was too late.

The sharp spike of her stiletto met the soft flesh of her stomach, below her right ribs. She barely bit back the scream of pain as she felt her skin split beneath the force, probably leaving a perfect hole behind. Blood filled her mouth where her teeth cut into her tongue; even her silence came with a price.

Leaving her no time to recover, her father took hold of her hair and pulled. A whimper was able to escape this time as the roots of her hair were forced to carry the entire weight of her body, lifted from the floor until only her feet dragged along the moldy rug. He pulled her only far enough to throw her atop the ruined bits of clock and mirror.

Instinct had her hands thrown out to catch herself, meeting the glass before her face could. More blood to clean.

"I want this place spotless when I come back up here. Am I understood?"

"What about the mirror?" her mother hissed, kicking a piece of broken glass at Adelais's face. Her hair blocked it from making contact, thankfully.

"She wanted a broken mirror, she can have a broken mirror. But when you have to be up on time, you better be up on time. And when you come down for inspection, there better not be a single mistake."

She had broken her alarm clock, so any late morning mistakes were her own. She had shattered the mirror she used to prepare herself for inspection, so any wrinkles or mistakes were her own. They would use this act to punish her for weeks to come.

"Adelais!" Claire called desperately, still trying to keep her voice low even as she hung from the ceiling. Enough to grab on, but not enough to pull up.

Casey and Marcia were no longer pinned against the door; instead, Marcia was looking through the crack that gave them a small vantage into the other room.

Hedwig had left.

Which could only mean Dennis was on his way.

Stepping onto the cot and catching her balance when her heeled boots wavered on the springy surface, Adelais grabbed her cousin's flailing legs. Catching one of her feet, sweaty with exertion, she hoisted her up into the vent. Claire caught on and planted her other foot as well, using Adelais's hands as a platform to boost herself the rest of the way. She ended up kicking into her shoulder in her scramble to pull up, almost stepping on her chest. When her foot disappeared, Marcia cried out, "He's back!" Shifting back to her original place, she pinned her shoulder against the door in the futile attempt to keep him out.

Adelais lunged off the bed as the door started to open, Casey and Marcia's attempts doing nothing to keep Dennis out.

No matter what they did he would get into the room. Claire was in the vents—hopefully crawling away as fast as she could—and Dennis had no hope of fitting in there to go after her. She had the best chance she was going to get. The longer they fought against him, the more they challenged him and drew his anger down on them.

Standing at Marcia's shoulder, Adelais grabbed the door. Marcia gasped slightly in relief, assuming she was there to help them. Casey, on the other hand, saw how Adelais was holding the door and her expression pinched. Her fingers were wrapped around the wood; if they succeeded in closing the door on Dennis, they'd get crushed. Flicking her focus to Adelais's face, she felt her heart plummet to the floor.

The barest ring of green was left circling her iris; hazel eyes glared back at her.

Directly opposing them, Adelais pulled on the door. The added force was a shock—more than her thin arms should allow—and they lost their grip, feet sliding along the floor as Dennis forced his way into the room. The other two scrambled back for safety, abandoning the door and letting it swing open to hit the wall. Adelais didn't move, standing directly in his path. Once he was inside, he stood right in front of her. So close, his chest nearly brushing hers.

Casey and Marcia were left watching as the unstoppable force met its immoveable object.

Hot breaths of air fanned her face, blowing back the hair that had fallen across her eyes and cheeks. His entire torso moved with each breath, shoulders lifted and chest expanding until she could feel the loose material of his open shirt brush her breast.

He looked behind the woman to the mess that had been created. Drywall was scattered across the floor and the cots, leaving a massive hole in the ceiling that revealed the open vent. With only three in the room, he knew that one had crawled inside and was presently trying to wiggle her way to freedom. Turning his focus downward, he met the gaze of the woman who had obeyed him so easily just hours ago.

For someone so placid, he had not expected to meet her defiance with his first step into the room—especially after watching her help pull the door open. He noticed two things at once: first, the green of her eyes had been overcome with a vivid hazel; second, her scarf had been pulled loose to expose her throat.

Everything she had done until that moment became clear.

Adelais watched him leave, locking them inside again.

For a moment, none of them moved. Marcia and Casey's shuddering breaths sounded behind her. She could feel the tension in her body causing her shoulders to shake. Staring at the door as she fought to maintain calm, even breaths, Adelais could feel panic and fear beginning to swallow her whole.

Not again.

She had been standing in front of the bathroom, watching Claire beat a hole into the drywall with her shoe. Now she was standing in front of the main door, watching Dennis leave like he was on a war path. No recollection of what had transpired between that moment and this one was coming to mind.

Like a blink, from one moment to the next.

The cool air across her throat drew her focus down to her scarf, which had been pulled low at some point. The fabric had been drawn down until she could see the low swoop-neck of her undershirt above the scarf—which meant her bruises were bare for the world to see.

"What do we do now?" Marcia almost whimpered, prompting a flinch that Adelais couldn't have repressed if she tried.

Hastily fixing her scarf as she turned, rotating in the direction that would put her back to them first, Adelais took in the destruction of the room. Since Claire was nowhere in sight and Dennis had left alone, she could only assume she had finally made it up through the vent. She cast her eyes up to the hole in the ceiling.

"We're in so much trouble," she mumbled. It was so quiet in the room they had no problem hearing her.

"Claire could make it," Marcia argued, the spark of hope in her voice prompting Adelais to cast her a pitying glance. Casey's hitch of breath was ignored—Adelais had no way of knowing it was because her eyes had returned to their natural green shade, the hazel nothing more than the ring in the center.

"Then she'll be the only one who does. Once he realizes she's gone, he'll come back for us. Or he'll catch her, and still come back for us. This was a terrible idea." Her limbs were shaking with the need to do something. So, she started to kick the chunks of drywall on the floor into some semblance of a pile, brushing the others off of the cot.

"What are you doing?"

"He has OCD, you saw him with the chair, with the bathroom. How do you think he'll react to this?" she demanded in return, refusing them even the courtesy of a glance. "You want to crawl up there and see what he does to you, be my guest. And aside from waiting, the most I can do right now is clean up in an attempt to stop him from losing his temper anymore than he already has."

"You helped Claire get out; why would you let him in?"

The better questions would be 'Why did I help her?'.

She had no explanation, so she kept silent. Eventually, Casey began cleaning up the other cot as a means of help. Marcia stayed in the middle of the room, unsure what to do with herself now that Claire was gone. Adelais doubted she was going to be coming back—whether she was caught or escaped. Without a broom, the attempt at cleaning left most of the floor still a mess. But the cots had been cleaned and returned to their places and at least he would see the attempt.

Leaving Casey and Marcia in the main room, she crowded into the bathroom and quickly started washing herself of the drywall dust. After clearing the cots her hands were covered in it. Dampening one of the spare face cloths, she quickly wiped down the rest of herself until all of the chalky residue was gone.

At least her shaking had eased.

If he came back while she was in the washroom, he might take it as her hiding from him, which she couldn't afford. Quickly going pee and rewashing her hands—finishing with wiping the sink with one of the cleaning rags—she rejoined the girls in the main area. Casey had sequestered herself in the far corner and Marcia was pressed with her back to the wall, looking like she wanted to sit down but refusing to relax when they all knew he was coming back.

Adelais averted her eyes from either of them and moved to stand at the back wall, directly across from the entrance. Leaning against the stonework, she waited.

And worried.

What exactly had she done?

Helped Claire into the vent, apparently, before opening the door to let Dennis into the room. From watching Claire slam her shoe into the ceiling, to watching him leave as the loose material of his grey overshirt shifted around his arms. She'd never seen him look anything less than impeccable, no matter the reason for entering the room. Even when he had thrown Marcia back inside, his clothes had been in perfect order. Only his face had shown the disgust he felt.

Would he punish her for helping Claire?

Would Casey and Marcia turn on her for letting him in?

She almost missed the simplicity that came with her everyday life. After so many years, she knew what to expect. Right now, she hadn't a clue. When she expected to be punished here, it never came. It made it nearly impossible to prepare for what may come once Dennis returned to them.

The familiar sound of the second door unlocking stopped her before she could twist herself any tighter. Marcia and Casey both squeezed further back against the walls. Adelais pushed away from hers, putting space between her and the stonework. Her feet ached from standing in those god-forsaken boots, her hands were chilled to the bone, the throbbing headache refused to ease behind her eyes, and the healing welts on her glute and thigh felt raw from the material of her pants rubbing against it; but she stood as perfectly as she had for her mother that last time.

When he opened the door to their prison he was dressed impeccably once again.

Try as she might, Adelais couldn't keep her eyes lowered. Catching the cold gunmetal blue of his gaze proved no advantage; he was just as unreadable as ever. A glance was barely spared for Casey and Marcia before his focus centered in on her again. When he resumed his brisk pace forward, straight for her, she knew that the blow she had been waiting for all this time was finally coming.

But when his hand reached out, it wasn't quick or threatening. For a brief moment she thought he was going to strangle her—one of his hands was easily broad enough to grab her thin throat. Then she realized the angle was off.

He was going for her scarf.