Chapter 19: Lies
Beaux's breath was held forcibly like an explosive in the back of his throat. For a second, Beaux was relieved – relieved to find that Meliah had not changed. He scrutinized her face. Though it was drained of color, the pinks and peaches he so hopelessly adored, Beaux could see the blemishes again. There was the small white scar underneath her left eye and the dappled areas, still healing from its pubescent stages.
"Oh my goodness! Oh my – oh my, no, NO!" Meliah's shrieks ebbed into spurts of breathy sobs. She looked at Andante's damaged form as though her eyes could not be diverted. Tears streamed down her cheeks from her unblinking eyes. They were dark and brimming with disbelief.
Yet there was another emotion, growing larger and stronger beyond her ebony irises. Beaux could see accusation. She thought he had murdered Andante. She did not remember. Anything…
Fear replaced his relief. There was an almost dangerous edge to Meliah's rigid posture. She was trembling uncontrollably as her satin dress rustled like a heap of fallen leaves.
"You killed him," she whispered in a flat voice. Beaux began to shake his head, but that only stoked her fire. "YOU KILLED HIM!" Meliah screamed again. She tore at her hair and howled in dismay. A crimson slipper ricocheted off her right foot as she kicked her legs in a childlike tantrum.
"Meliah," Beaux murmured in comfort. He forced himself to stand and plop himself, rather ungracefully, on the edge of her tousled bed. Meliah did not look at him – her eyes still transfixed on the dripping blood and exposed flesh.
Beaux gently pulled Meliah into his arms, attempting to shield Andante from her view. He inwardly marveled at the mint condition of her clothes. Even an experienced hunter like himself had difficulty keeping clean during a meal. There was not a drop of blood anywhere.
But his shallow bewilderment was abruptly broken by Meliah's angry struggle. Initially, she pounded against his chest with her fists, but when she realized these fits were not very effective against his rock-hard body, she resorted to assaulting his face. She struck her open palm against his cheek. "Don't. Touch. Me," she hissed, separating the words distinctly with each gasp.
If she had been avoiding eye contact before, she was not anymore. Her eyes were shot with red streaks and glowing with rage and disgust. Beaux's heart gave a terrible lurch as he shuddered under her infuriated gaze. She had never looked at him this way before.
His hands lost their stronghold around her waist, and he let her flee from the horrid room. Meliah's steps diminished as she cantered into the hall. "Mama!" she cried. "Papa!" Her voice echoed even after she had gone.
Beaux sighed as he lay down on the soft mattress. He closed his eyes, trying to reflect on the events that had occurred. Everything was a blur – a whip of colors, words, and tears that he could not place into any single category.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror across from the bed. Oh that mirror! Beaux lamented silently. How often had I watched myself next to Meliah on those autumn days when I came to visit? How long ago…?
But now, his glassy image disappointed him. Beaux, though hesitant to admit it, was amazingly vain. And his overwhelming pride had done little over the years to curb the inflation. Perhaps, Beaux thought, it was time to wean off the praise.
There were dark, purple circles under his sunken eyes, making him look unhealthy and sleep-deprived. He sighed. The green of his eyes were swallowed by the shadows under his brow and his skin looked pale and raw as though it had been severely chafed by winter winds. His hair was lank and dull – not golden, but brown.
Beaux turned away from his reflected self, gazing at him with its lonely eyes and lifeless body. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, only to find he was choking with the scent of stagnant blood.
Then his breath stopped altogether when he heard a piercing scream from down the hall. He jerked off the bed and stampeded toward Meliah's fervid cries. The house never seemed so black and endless as it did then.
Beaux nearly collapsed upon what his eyes saw next. He had never anticipated this.
A double homicide.
Meliah was shrieking and clutching the wall with her starched hands. Her face was completely red now from crying. Even the whites of her eyes were stained pink. Her skin looked irritated by her constant tears.
But how could Beaux blame her for lamenting? The murder of her lover was tragic enough, but to find that her parents had been killed as well…
Mr. and Mrs. Lavoirsier were in the same predicament as Andante, but they had met their dooms hours before. The room was thickly permeated with the stench of excrement and death. There were flies, ants, and other small insects that had managed to track down the odor. Now, the two bodies were reduced to buzzing, vibrating black masses. Beaux cringed as he scuttled to Meliah's side. She did not seem capable of looking away from the horror, as though she needed to burn the image into her head in order to believe it.
Meliah's breathing was increasingly ragged, and Beaux watched with concern as several times, her eyes rolled heavenward. She would faint any moment.
"You killed them?" Meliah asked. Her voice was a whisper, but it was not a question.
This was different from her reaction before. The heartbreak was beyond anger now; it was incredible grief and anguish. Beaux forced himself to maintain composure.
"How could you?" Meliah continued, desperately trying to stop her voice from cracking, "How could you do this to me? Oh, Beaux, how could you?"
Her hair had fallen out of its original shape. It hung around her slender form like an ebony curtain. She was so close to the bodies, Beaux feared her unsoiled features would be tainted by the blood and gore. He subtly tried to push Meliah away from the dirty corpses, but she resisted.
"Look at me," Meliah ordered as she pulled his face toward her own until they were less than an inch apart. "Look at me! Tell me it wasn't you!"
Beaux could feel his resolve crumbling. The conviction, the disappointment, and betrayal in Meliah's murky eyes were so potent. He wanted nothing more than to dispel that accusation. To tell her it was not him!
But he bit his tongue quickly. How could he bring that upon this child? This young girl who had just turned seventeen? To have such terrible murder on her conscience, how would she survive the trauma?
No, Beaux decided, I can not ever let her know what she has become. She will be crushed... As much as it kills me to see her like this, I can not bear to see her despise herself. It's not your fault, love. It's mine. All mine. And I won't let you take the blame!
"I can't do that-" Beaux began. He cast his eyes toward his shuffling feet.
"Oh Beaux!" Meliah screamed. "Oh Beaux! Beaux! No! I don't believe you! Why?!"
Beaux's mind worked quickly. He was surprised about how little he had to lie about. "I wanted you for myself. I was jealous of Andante, and I feared you would elope with him."
The words were slurred and hastily put together. Beaux was sorry he did not add more remorse. At the moment, he had been in such a rush to establish a foundation to worry about the details. He sounded cruel and cold.
"But my parents?" she asked feebly. "My Mama and Papa?"
Beaux resisted the urge to console Meliah, who looked so forlorn. He needed to maintain a stoic façade of a serial killer.
"I'm sorry," Beaux murmured.
"Oh Beaux! Beaux!" Meliah cried as she pushed him away. "You didn't have to do this! None of this! You hear? Nothing! You terrible beast! You treacherous snake!"
Beaux was could not fight the impulse any longer. He tenderly smoothed her hair pulled her into his embrace.
"What do you mean?" Beaux asked in mock interest, "Of course I didn't. I don't have to do anything. I chose to do this-"
"I loved you!" Meliah finally spat. "I loved you! I asked Andante to come today so I could tell him I didn't want to anymore!"
Beaux became paralyzed. He had waited for so long just to hear those words, but this was not quite the image he had been expecting.