"What if Hazel's out there cold and hungry?!" Angela worriedly paced about in the vacant bedroom, her heart pounding as if trying to escape her chest. Blue eyes darting around maniacally with the false hope that they'd somehow find the missing little girl.
Because it was late when they'd returned from the country club last night, they were too tired to confirm that Hazel was in her room. Then, when it'd been past time for Hazel to uphold her duty of making their morning breakfast, Marcus's beckoning call was met with dead air. Hazel knew better than to ignore him, so his hanger had charged him up to her room, riled up to reprimand disobedience. Before Angela could stop him, Marcus forced entry with a charging kick. Discovering the small bed neatly made as if it had not been slept in.
When Marcus had allowed Angela to rummage through Hazel's furniture, there did not appear to be any clothes or any of her personal belongings packed. Nor were there any suitcases or backpacks missing; most of her room was left untouched. The only other missing object was that ridiculous ferret cage that would sit on her nightstand.
Angela's first thought was to contact authorities, but Marcus was quick to opt against. "She left with nothing, and it hasn't even been twenty-four hours." he'd sternly advised. "She'll come running back when she comes to her senses."
Hour twenty-four came and went with no sign of the nine-year-old.
As Angela continued her antsy pacing, her husband and eldest daughter stood on either side of the doorway, watching her with exasperated expressions. Her fretful wander passed by for the umpteenth time before Hillary huffed, rolling her eyes to this pointless panic.
"Good riddance…" she grumbled to herself, except Angela's senses were heightened enough to overhear and she whirled, appalled.
"Hillary!"
"What!" Hillary spat back. Why was her mom so distraught over some nobody!? "She's not your daughter, I am!"
"That's enough…" Marcus groaned through a cough at his daughter, arms crossed against his congested chest. He'd developed this pesky cough that just refused to be soothed no matter how many cough drops he'd dissolved or how much cold meds he'd taken. Pushing that grievance aside, he then addressed his wife's overreaction. "If she doesn't wanna abide by the rules under this roof, then let her get a taste of how the real world works…she'll realize how good she had it."
"How good? Marcus, you went too far, yesterday!" Angela chided critically. "What if our neighbors heard all the commotion!? What if CPS gets called on us?!"
"That only crossed your mind today?" Marcus countered mockingly, and she glared.
"Marcus, this always crosses my mind! But you never listen to me!"
Marcus cleared his throat after another cough irritating enough to ache in his chest, a faint gruff in his managed tone. "…do you ever say anything worth listening to?"
Hillary glanced at Angela's eyes that sharpened into unforgiving judgement towards her husband, hands clenching into fists at her sides.
"…you know what? I'm glad Anthony doesn't have to see what a vile…disgusting man you've become!"
"Oh, what I've become?" Having kept most of his cool, Marcus's face contorted into a vexed mask, shifting firm on his feet. "Angela, I'm not the one who's changed! I have been the same person that you said 'I do' to! And I have told you for years that I did not want some jigaboo, but did you listen to me?!"
Angela swallowed back the gnaw of nausea that crept up the back of her throat as his rant was interrupted by a throaty cough, like something was starting to clog and burble in his lungs.
"…no, you didn't! You…" he erupted with strained coughs, clutching his chest. Steadying himself after labored breaths. "…you brought that…t-that spook anyways…under the false tense that she'd ever…be part of this family…"
Hillary's worry for her father puckered her brow towards him, and Angela's hot fire seemed to simmer as well. While he'd shown possible signs of some sort of cold, this did not sound or appear to be no ordinary cough.
"Marcus, we shouldn't do this…"
He had to cover his mouth from the next cough that nearly wrecked his throat, cording veins into his neck. "Oh, we are absolutely doing this!" he objected as if he wasn't hacking up a lung, barking with the authority of a man who should never be crossed. "You act all high and mighty when you suffer from this 'savior' complex!"
"Marcus, I care about that little girl!"
"You care about a blackie that killed our only son?!"
It was as if a zip tie strangled the base of her ribs and squeezed, tightening begrudgingly.
"Have you forgotten her forcing our son to have sex with her to keep him quiet about that pedophile hurting him?! Constantly assaulting him?!" scratchy coughs felt like the hottest iron claws cauterizing his sternum, burning with more than just anger. Eyes watering, he strained to catch his breath "…w-would a…a 'little girl'…do something that…t-that evil?!"
Angela felt her veins rattle with quaking chills.
"Our son was suffering…right under our noses! But he's gone…and that little sack of shit took him away from us…" His face reddened in his sputter, a scorching ache spreading through his chest with every spasmic retch of his lungs.
The more violent coughs wrecked him, the more Hillary's eyes began to gloss with the threat of tears. "Dad…"
"…and…if you truly gave a s-shit about that nig-" the words nearly choked themselves out between fits of coughs as if his body rejected them. When he could steady his breath again, he sent the most spiteful, blaring scowl his watering eyes could muster "…you would've…called CPS your damn sel-"
Wheezing roars of raspy croaks overtook him. His body had reached its limit, doubling him over as veins corded up his neck and into his temples. It was impossible to inhale, as every hard, spasmic exhale raked at his lungs, straining his head and neck in a dangerous shade of red.
Hillary clasped her head between her hands, breaths growing thin and ragged. Angela's glare softened into a gape of numbed horror. "…Marcus?"
He coughed into both hands, and a thick, dark crimson oozed between his fingers. Sputtering in gurgled spurts, drenching magenta carpet.
"MARCUS!" was the last he heard before his head spun, losing strength in his legs as his world went black...
Hazel and Nyekundu materialized into the same room they'd awaken in that morning; the unfamiliar turquoise walls, the pink sheer curtains too frilly even for her, and the excessive wooden dresser with the elaborate f-hole design. Muted brown eyes glanced down to her transporter; she'd half expected to return to the room she'd grown up in. Guess the Council really did just yank her away from her family…
"…is there anything you would like to talk about?" Nyekundu's calm voice broke the silence, noting Hazel's pensive and doleful demeanor. Timmy's explosive outburst had been like wildfire roaring through a dry forest like a raging beast, charring everyone's moods to the point that Tootie no longer had any desire to celebrate her birthday and wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed. As much of a disappointment as this was to Rose, she (as well as the other godparents) realized the awkwardness of feigning fun after all the horrible stuff that'd been aired out in the atmosphere.
The vibes were not vibing, so everyone simply went back to their respective lives. Everyone needed time to process this bombshell…
Before Hazel could decide whether she had any words to express the hurricane of feelings within, flashes of blue and red flickered in rhythmic succession out the corner of their eyes. Puzzled glances directed themselves to the window where they were nearly blinded by the alternation of blue and red hues blinking behind the sheer pink curtains.
Squinting for her eyes to adjust, Hazel's piqued curiosity crept towards the window to investigate. Aside from the incident with Anthony and Fenwick, law enforcement rarely made an appearance among the affluent, well-secured community. Unless someone was hurt…or worse.
Shoving back the curtains, Hazel peered through the window, but since the window was on the side of the house, she couldn't get an accurate view of the street. What she could see were occupants from neighboring houses either standing out in their pristine yards or sticking out their heads from their top-floor windows.
The door to the bedroom burst open without warning, causing Hazel to jump as Nyekundu's fast reflexes disguised herself as a red ring around Hazel's right index. They blinked to the green-eyed strawberry-blonde shifting incessantly in the doorframe, her word almost running through her lips in hurried speech.
"Hazel come quick something's happening across the street!"
"Wai-"
Hazel didn't get the chance to question what Missy was talking about (or even ask how she knew she was back in this room) when Missy disappeared a split second after, hearing footsteps dash down the hall and patter down the stairs. After sharing dumbfounded looks with her red ring, Hazel braced herself for the worst and exited the room.
The front door was already opened by the time Hazel reached the base of the marbled stairs, hurrying across the foyer before her feet stuttered to a stop on the front porch. Black skies were aglow with blue and red from the numerous ambulance and police cruisers, creating a barrier around the same property authorities and medical officials had just responded to almost a month prior.
Standing in their front lawn beside her father, Missy looked back towards the house, seeing Hazel's dread-filled steps in her approach. Heart thumping in her throat, her tunnel vision couldn't see the Phirmans. All Hazel could see were EMTs maneuvering the wheels of a gurney for an easier exit through the door…
A gurney carrying a body bag.
"DADDDYYYYYYYYYYY!"
The grief-stricken screech of an eleven-year-old girl rang out. Her mother could barely hold her back from the urge to fling herself onto the stretcher that was stealing her father away from her. Angela clung to her daughter, hugging her tightly which did fuck all to shush her hysterical sobs. There was no one to comfort her distress as her own tears streamed, mascara streaking ivory cheeks with black tears. Too bereft to care if she looked unkempt or unhinged to the neighbors.
First their son and brother, now their husband and father. Why were they being cursed like this?
"…I wonder what happened there?" Mike wondered aloud, sounding calm, almost too calm given the situation, receiving a sideways glance from Hazel's instant suspicions.
A small groove cut between Missy's brows. "It's so unfortunate…"
"…you sure about that?"
Hearing an apprehensive yet assertive mutter, Missy and Mike turned to Hazel's skeptical glare. They caught hints of red lines within the whites of her eyes, wet with either brimming threats or the last remanences of tears.
"…are you alright?" Missy asked, her voice giving off this sweet innocence of no deceit. That sweetness tasted sour on Hazel's tongue, gritting her jaw. Her heart clenched inside her chest, yet she held her managed glare.
Mike took a gentle approach, bending down to her level. "…does seeing this make you upset? It's alright if it does."
Keeping her guard, she suspected the legitimacy of their connection to the Council. Why are they acting so oblivious? How does that help her trust them? Moreover, why would the Council choose now to eliminate her father? Haven't they caused enough damage?
Throat constricted, Hazel about-faced and stormed passed Missy, heading back towards the house from whence she came. If she went back to her own house, her arrival would only worsen the situation, or even cause a bigger scene. Without fail, what happened to her father would somehow be pitted on her…
Just like Anthony did with his own demise by his own hands.
"Hazel!" Missy called out, hurrying after Hazel's trail. Straightening his stance, Mike observed Hazel intently before following with hands in his pockets.
When Missy entered the foyer, Hazel's tracks stopped at the base of the central stairs. Only the black kinks of Hazel's curls faced her, but by the taut hunch in Hazel's shoulders, Missy could tell Hazel was greatly upset.
"…you can talk to me, Hazel." She tried, inching forward. "You can tell me what's wrong."
Back still turned, a full-body cringe trembled down through the fingers in Hazel's wadded fists.
Shutting the front door behind him, Mike's careful strides traveled towards his daughter who chewed on her lip, wincing when her tongue tasted iron. She could just feel Hazel's utter distrust. Distrust of her.
"Hazel, we mean you no harm-"
A fatherly palm to her shoulder cut off her attempt at imploration, shooting him a fretting stare. With the calmest gaze, he silently shook his head at her, as if advising that they should allow Hazel to set the pace. After all, Hazel had a lot of difficult thoughts and emotions to process all at once. If they wanted to earn her trust, they had to respect her boundaries. She was owed that right.
There was a weak slouch in Missy's shoulders as her faint frown creased further, otherwise complying with her father's counsel. He released her, and they patiently waited for Hazel to take all the time she needed. Looming tension muddled the passage of time to where it felt unclear if one minute or ten minutes ticked by. After some time, Hazel did not face them, but her quiet voice conveyed a deceptive firmness like someone pretending to have control over what was out of their control.
"…I need to talk to Missy alone, please."
Missy looked to her father, observing his soundless inhale as a restrained breath exhaled through his nose. When his trepidation met her gaze, she nodded at him, accepting this request with wordless affirmation that she can handle it without him.
"I'll…go reply back to some email inquiries…" he excused, one hand in his jeans pocket. Taking slow, awkward steps back from Missy before pivoting on his heel to his right.
Missy watched her father disappear behind the right of the staircase, hearing the door to his downstairs office open before the echo of it clanking shut bounced off the floor's marble acoustics. That didn't give her the clear to push; she still needed to let Hazel make the first move.
Hazel stalled, eyes fixed to the floor. Contemplating what wording to use for the question burning in her skull to ask. How much of what she'd been told was appropriate to reveal? How much of what Missy might already know should she confirm?
Toes curling in her shoes, she proceeded to speak. Luckily, the foyer's acoustics could amplify the muted volume in her voice. "…did they do it?"
A pause followed, and Hazel assumed her question was unheard, until Missy seemed to speak in an uncertain tone. "Did who do it?"
Hazel bristled. Too discrete. Guess she needed to try again with something more direct. "…the Seraphims."
"… did the Seraphims do what?"
Missy didn't question what Hazel had meant, meaning she must already know who she was referring to. Swallowing dryly, Hazel's nails dug indentions into her palms. She knew it was best to keep with a direct approach. Didn't make it any easier to ask…
"…did the Seraphims kill my dad?"
Another pause. This time, Missy's tone seemed…deflective. Almost like she was trying really hard to feign ignorance. "Who told you about them?"
"I'm the one asking the questions." Hazel whirled on her heel, mustering the sternest tone she could forge.
"Right..." Missy complied without fuss, wrapping arms around herself. She studied Hazel's narrowed stare, her deep, contained breaths widening her nostrils in the most miniscule flare. She didn't want Hazel to be upset with her, nor did she want Hazel to think that she was in on the Seraphims' plans. She also didn't think it wise to tell someone how to feel when they were already emotionally disturbed. Instead, she opted for the truth that she hoped Hazel would understand.
"…they did it only to protect you."
Hazel's glare widened, muscles stiffening. Was she supposed to be happy? No, no one should ever be happy about murder. Even if it's him. The part of her that was uncomfortable, the part of her that harbored resentment towards him, didn't feel anything like sad. She couldn't if she tried.
…how was she supposed to feel?
"So you do know who I'm talking about when I say Seraphims." she uttered darkly.
Missy's sheepish gaze lowered, nodding weakly. "…I've known all along."
Guess it wasn't that much of a surprise, considering all the stuff about Timmy's mysterious brother. Though that begged the question…
"…does your dad know, too?" Hazel felt inclined to ask.
"To an extent." Missy clarified. "He knows who and what they are, just not what they've done or what they're capable of. So, it's likely he thinks what happened to your dad just…sorta happened."
But wasn't Timmy's brother technically an adult? Then again, that Mr. Crocker guy Tootie and Molly talked about was also an adult…what was the angle here?
One thing at a time, Hazel. She steadied her nerves with a contained breath. "…where's Schumann?"
On cue, Schumann appeared at the top of the stairs' landing and scampered down the staircase, passing Hazel straight towards Missy where he proceeded to brush his fur against her legs in his warm greeting. Giving him a small grin, she bent down for her fingers to scratch tenderly along his spine, taffy-pink eyes smiling up at her.
Hazel fixed her burrowing brows on the albino ferret, the same ferret that'd tackled her to the ground and had proceeded to fond and brush himself all over her face, just as Simmons had done as his 'friendly' introduction. She had pondered if she'd ever see Simmons again, and it looked like she had her answer. Except for this assumption…
"…is…he who you call…'Spirit'?"
She saw Missy's fingers pause their scratching, and for the first time, she couldn't read Missy's expression when her green eyes averted, deadpanned. Wordlessly, she scooped Schumann into arms that moved mechanically, going through the motions without any real purpose behind them.
Hazel did not expect this reaction; Missy had never come across as the cagy type. "…did I say something wrong?"
"Oh, no! Not at all!" Missy sprung back with life, a buoyant flicker returning in her gaze as if it'd never left. "You're just half correct."
One brow slid up in Hazel's forehead.
"Schumann talks to me most of the time." Missy elaborated, smiling. "Other times, it's is someone I lost a couple years ago."
"…and that would be…?"
"Somone who'd taught me everything I know and love about cello."
As Missy gave soft strokes along the back of Schumann's head, Hazel started getting the sense that Missy was purposefully omitting certain details. "…how can you tell the difference if there're two of these 'Spirits'?"
"The voices; one sounds like me talking to myself, but I know it's Schumann because his eyes look different when it happens." Missy's gaze dropped, only for a second. "The other sounds exactly like her…"
"Her?" Hazel lightly prodded, and Schumann brushed his cheek against her bicep as a faint pucker crinkled in Missy's brow, eyes downcast to the floor. She caught a glimpse of something she'd rarely seen behind Missy's eyes, a glimpse of sorrow. Sorrow that Missy was quick to blink away, mustering a smile wider than it should be.
"Yes." Missy's simple reply led both of Hazel's brows to rise slowly, silently awaiting the clarification that never came.
"…is…'she'…talking to you right now?" Hazel asked instead.
"No."
When she took a moment to consider the maternal figure/spouse that had yet to be seen nor mentioned, the writing was on the wall. Hazel chose to bookmark this, however. If her assumption was correct, then she couldn't bring up a potentially touchy subject. She needed Missy to stay as open as possible with her.
"So…" Hazel took a step forward, shortening the boundary between them while maintaining her distance. "I guess you know about angels, too?"
"Yes."
"…what all do you know?"
"That your angel is named Nyekundu, and she's the red ring on your right finger."
Hazel's brows shot up, lifting her hand to look down at red eyes perplexed in their stare.
"I also know that you don't actually dye Nyekundu's fur when she shapeshifts into a ferret. And neither does Remy with Juandissimo…" Missy admitted as Schumann lowered his chin to rest on her arm. "I get it; the dye thing was just a fib to maintain your secrets." she shrugged "I just played along for your sakes."
"…do you know what our 'angels' look like?" Hazel's suspicions quizzed.
"No." Missy curled a feeble grin. "But I bet they're very handsome and beautiful."
…totally not a strange comment that shall be disregarded, for now. Moving on…
"So…how did you get him?" Hazel pointed to the albino ferret now looking back at her.
"It was after our performance at the Levitt Pavilion in Los Angeles a few weeks ago." Missy resumed her light scratches along white fur, telling her recounting like a story shared around a campfire. "My dad and I had just returned to the hotel when we found this ferret limping around the parking lot. It was night time and there weren't a lot of people around, so we didn't think he belonged to anyone. I called out to him, and to our surprise, he made an effort to come to me. Then we noticed his front paw giving him a lot of trouble."
Schumann brushed his cheek to the inside of Missy's elbow.
"I wanted to reach out, but my dad didn't want me touching a stray animal or scaring him away. Still, he didn't seem scared of us like most hurt animals would. He still tried to come, but he looked to be in a lot of pain when he put any pressure on his front paw. That was when we figured out that it might've been sprained."
Hazel pressed her lips with the faintest frown. This different story sounded oddly similar to Tommy's.
"…he let my dad come up and scoop him up despite the pain he was in, and by the reddish blue swelling, his paw was worse than we thought. We took him inside the hotel and asked the front desk for a phonebook, anything to try and find any nearby animal hospitals. But, like I said, it was dark and a bit late, so most of them within a reasonable drive were already closed. The front desk offered numbers to some nearby animal shelters and the number to animal control so they could takeover…"
There was a pause that posed Hazel's next question "And was that when Schumann spoke to you?"
Missy nodded. "He told me he didn't need any assistance, that he could heal himself. He just needed an excuse to lure us in."
"…and you didn't think that was weird?" Hazel droned.
"Oh, for sure!" Missy remarked, lighthearted. "I thought I was saying all that stuff to myself even though I didn't understand why I'd ever tell myself any of that. Like…why would I make an excuse to lure in a stray ferret? And how common are ferrets in LA, anyway?" she glanced down to the ferret staring up at her "But then I realized it was Schumann, because every time I heard these thoughts, he would look at me with these light twinkles in his eyes." her gaze returned to Hazel. "My dad saw it, too, and he also thought he was going crazy."
"…and your dad just…agreed to keep him, anyway?" Hazel queried, arms crossed contemplatively.
"…we didn't have much of a choice." Missy chuckled. "Even when we tried taking him to a shelter or setting him free, he refused to leave."
"…and…is 'Schumann' his actual name?" Hazel gestured to the ferret once again.
"No; his name was Shamshiel, but he never liked that name." Missy explained. "He let me change it to whatever I wanted, and I decided to name him after one of my favorite composers!" she giggled when Schumann gave the bottom of her cheek a fond nuzzle with the top of his head. "Yeah, and you like your name, huh?"
With a steadying breath, Hazel held onto her red ring. Seeking comfort as a pang of dread scrunched in her gut, contracting into bitter, retching knots. There was another uncomfortable piece to this puzzle that needed solving, though she half considered it better for certain things to remain a mystery. Honestly speaking, she wouldn't be asking these questions had Timmy not blown up like he did; nevertheless, she'd already dug herself this deep into the rabbit hole as is.
Her low mutter cracked tightly. "…you knew about Anthony even before all the 'neighborhood gossip'…didn't you."
Missy's smile visibly withered, closed-lipped like she was humoring a conversation she didn't wish to have. Schumann locked eyes on the little girl's narrowed brown gaze.
"…and you know why he took his life…don't you."
Missy responded with a short nod, her smile growing weaker.
"…Schumann told you?"
Missy nodded once more, lips thinning.
"…how much did he tell you?"
Clutching Schumann tighter, Missy's breath came out shakily. "…things you really shouldn't know."
Hazel snorted. "I shouldn't know a lot of things…and yet I know the Seraphims used Anthony as a tool for their own agenda."
A distressing knot clenched in Missy's chest. "…who told you that?"
"I'm asking the questions." Hazel repeated, keeping the stern façade in her stance. "Now, tell me…how much do you know?"
Missy stiffened at this question, blanching. Schumann allowed the slight tremor in her arms to cling around his body, pressing him against her chest.
"I told you I already know too much." Hazel pointed out, darkness bleeding through her softness. "There's no point in sparing me the truth."
[You do not have to speak a truth you fear to share.] Missy heard her own voice echo in her head, and Hazel noticed the sparkles of light in taffy-pink eyes.
"What did he just say to you?" Hazel firmly probed, managing a balance of not coming across too pushy. Missy lowered her chin, brows tipping upwards in meeting Hazel's pointed stare.
"…if, I may…" the kindness in her voice hinted at a grated edge "…why…do you want to know?"
Hazel grimaced, stalling. Why did she want to know? Was it to question the Fairy Council's morality that felt murky at best? Was it to test if they are as awful as Timmy says? Was it for the fleeting sense of closure?
"Because you really shouldn't want to know…" Missy added, swallowing a lump threatening to constrict her throat completely. "It's…really bad."
Brown eyes narrowed further. "If it's that bad, then why did Schumann tell you?"
Missy shifted uncomfortably, sweat beads dotting along her hairline despite the coolness of the foyer. Goodness, hopefully Hazel can understand. "…so that I'd understand what I'm dealing with."
"…what you're dealing with?" Hazel hissed, the absurdity of that statement grating at her nerves. "What am I, a charity case?"
Green eyes flashed in wide, shamefaced circles, caught off guard. "N-No, Hazel! That's not what-"
"Is that why Schumann brought me and Nyekundu here in the first place? Out of pity?" Hazel tromped forward, growing hot with frustration. "Because the Seraphims took their sweet time trying to right their wrongs?"
Missy's breath hitched. "…Hazel, you must understand-"
"No, you need to understand!" Hazel's eyes bore into Missy's, her voice hardening with reproach. "Anthony blamed me instead of telling the truth! Made up this whole lie about something I'd never do, just to shift the guilt! And because of that, my mom let my dad and my sister treat me even more like crap!"
Tight lips pressed together in empathetic pain as Missy scratched circles into Schumann's fur.
"If the Seraphims really wanted to teach Fenwick that bad a lesson, they're a million other ways they could've done so! But they chose a literal kid, to do whatever it is they did that was so bad that Anthony couldn't even say it in his letter! So you're gonna open your mouth and tell me what they did, because what they did didn't help me at all! It only made my life worse!"
A sheen of tears gathered, filling green eyes with the careful attention of someone who truly saw the crux of Hazel's pain. But Missy didn't let them fall as her voice quivered.
"…t-they used Anthony to hurt your nanny…"
"How."
Missy recoiled with knitted brows, hunching her shoulders at Hazel's persistence like a cowering child despite Hazel being shorter by like two inches. Swallowing a wave of nausea, Hazel backed two steps away as a means to ease the tense thickness in the air. Whatever had come over her, it made her bones shiver. She hated being angry; it made her feel sick. Any semblance of him coming out of her made her hate herself more.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you…" she spoke softly. Maybe she should ask about Anthony again when the wound wasn't so infected.
"It's alright." Missy kept her tone deceptively even, though her furrowed brows told otherwise.
Hazel caught Schumann's beady eyes studying her. "I guess you know about Remy, too…" she switched the subject, then snapped her stare back to Missy's downhearted gaze which looked away.
"Yes…"
"…and about Fenwick?"
"Yes…" Missy struggled with eye contact. "…but…I'm not sure if it's my place to talk about any of it."
Hazel sighed. Eh…guess that's fair.
"…but I can talk about what'd happened to Fenwick..."
Missy's quiet proposal was just loud enough for Hazel's intrigue to catch, raising a brow. "…you can?"
"Yes." Exhaling heavily, Missy licked her lips, apprehensive. Would saying this make Hazel more upset, even if she wanted to know? "…he was sent to the ICU when he'd developed a bad case of sepsis. Doctors have tried for weeks to combat it, but…they ultimately found that they were just managing his symptoms…"
Sepsis? That's harsh…is it, though? Ugh, she shouldn't think like that… "So…what happened?"
When Missy acknowledged Schumann's sparkling eyes, Hazel saw haggard worry contort Missy's features.
"…Missy?"
Her heart raced, each pulse a reminder of the anxious torrent coursing through her as Missy blew her cheeks out with a heavy breath meant to calm her nerves.
"…it was just called tonight…" she croaked. "…he died."
Hazel's blood ran cold. Remy got what he wanted, after all…
Darkness enveloped the sky with a gloomful shroud over all that lay beneath. Nightly shadows crawled through the bedroom window, dragging silence throughout the blackness that seemed to stretch endlessly. A loud, harrowing silence that failed to quiesce the thoughts tormenting the young billionaire's mind.
Denied of sleep, mint-green stared at the ceiling through the gold canopy darkened by the nightfall. Brows furrowed with shame of the heated exchange with his godfather that'd led to the slip of his biggest secret. Not only did this cost his dignity, it'd cost the cognizance of Hazel and Nyekundu. Luckily, they'd both agreed to keep this under lock and key from the other godchildren. Unfortunately, Hazel understood the nature of keeping the secret of defiling assault.
Remy slid hands down his cheeks, pulling his eyes and lips with them. It was only 8:30pm, but his tired mind felt so simultaneously wired. He tilted his head to the ferret curled in his cage. Because it was so dark, he couldn't quite make out if his eyes were closed, but the sound of his breathing didn't appear calm enough to indicate he was asleep. It was how Juandissimo had been for a while, withdrawn in his cage. Having said little since they'd transported from the Fort.
Once he'd been able to calm down, Remy didn't really blame him. It did make him worry, however. The last time Juandissimo had acted like this, he'd accidentally made a wish to be left alone.
"…Juan?" he called quietly.
"Hmm?" the purple ferret didn't open his eyes. He also sounded like he didn't really want to be bothered, eating at Remy's heart.
"…I'm sorry for shoving you."
The rueful murmur lifted Juandissimo's eyes, but only halfway.
"…and for yelling at you and…saying all those bad words…" he paused trepidly. "…and for-"
"Remy." Juandissimo interrupted him in a dispirited groan. "You do not have to apologize…"
Remy frowned, thinking Juandissimo must've just excused his bad behavior just like he'd done with Turner. "…are you sure?"
"Yes." Juandissimo shut his eyes in his clipped response. Honestly, he was far too tired for this. All he wanted was for his brain to finally shut off…
Remy detected subtle hints of a bruised heart in Juandissimo's tone, and regret tugged at his core. Despondent, he rolled beneath his covers, facing the velvety blackness through his window that outlined the dull silhouette of a gold telescope. The telescope that was practically collecting dust at this point. Kept as a symbol of the night everything changed, the night magic entered his life.
He'd been so wary of Juandissimo back then, this magnificent being whose existence, at the time, had only existed in fairytales. This small body with big muscles that could also transform into a ferret at the will of his wand. This caring protector who'd earned more of his fragile trust than a man he'd known literally since birth…a man who only loved him for one thing and one thing only.
No matter how rude he was, or how confused he was, or how distorted and warped his mind was…Juandissimo never gave up on him. They've been through so much, come so far. Then Turner had to go and expose what everyone would've been better off staying ignorant about, infecting his sour mood into everyone else. Making him so riled up that he'd put hands on his own fairy, physically pushed him away. He could remember the hurt that'd crossed Juandissimo's face and how distant he'd grown afterwards, just in time for Tootie and Rose to cut the get-together short.
He'd hurt the one person who loved him most…
Sighing, Remy rolled over again, facing back to the nightstand. The breathing from the cage seemed calmer, slower with a steadier rhythm.
"…Juandissimo?" Remy's soft call went unanswered, and his frown deepened. Maybe Juandissimo might feel better in the morning. Highly unlikely…
Sighing, he turned over onto his back, returning to stare at his gold canopy as his restless mind reeled. Did the Council have any right to kill his parents over Hazel's family? Did they have any right to cut the lives of neglectful parents short over the life of that creep? What was their motive? And why would the older brother that Turner barely knew tell him things best kept secret? Was it not obvious that it'd just set him off?
Even in his tantrum, there was a certain detail that Remy resonated with. Turner had admitted his struggles with suicidal ideation, proving that when you reach the lowest of lows, that mindset doesn't just disappear with the trigger. What if Remy had drowned the night he'd gone out in freezing temperatures to the country club's lazy river? Even if Juandissimo wasn't happy with him at the moment, Remy knew the extensive damage his death would do…
What if that would've been for the best?
A man who had used and manipulated him since he was old enough to have cohesive thoughts got to walk away, live life outside a jail cell. After what he did to Hazel, Anthony was not innocent in the slightest. Even he perhaps deserved a less tragic fate than the lack of sanction given to his morally inept family…
How did he succeed in taking his own life? That would so messed up if he was to ask Hazel about it, and wishing for that knowledge was out the question. It must've been pretty brutal, more brutal than just dunking his head underwater and waiting for his lungs to give out. Then again, he would have certainly drowned had Juandissimo not interfered. At the time, he just wanted to quiet his thoughts. He just wanted the pain to stop hurting. To this day, he had no idea how Juandissimo had found him in time.
And to this day…part of him wished he hadn't.
But if Juandissimo hadn't stopped him, then he would've never experienced a fairy being the only person to care for him when he'd fallen ill. Submerging himself into cold water in the dead of California winter had resulted in the worst fever ever, and not once did his parents check on him. No one did. No one but Juandissimo.
Remy tilted his pensive gaze to the sleeping ferret; it was still a mystery of how an unwanted child deserved a caring godfather like him. Juandissimo would be much better off not having to worry about him anymore, and yet he can't bring himself to hurt him worse than he already had. A hollowed emptiness scraped at his chest…why was Juan so far away? Why did he long for comfort he didn't deserve…
…because his heart ached too much…
…maybe…if he was careful enough…he could…take Juan out of his cage? Bring him into bed? Cradle him close? He always slept better with his godfather close to him…
Inner disgust grimaced. No…that's creepy for him to even think like that, let alone…want that.
Besides…what if Juan wanted nothing to do with him?
He groaned, dragging hands over his eyes. This was pointless. Wanting affection was pointless. Staying in this stupid bed when he can't freaking sleep was pointless…
Turning to his digital clock, it was still early…technically. Would a walk around the mansion help? As long as he stayed indoors, no one would have to come save him…
Doing so deftly, he tossed back the covers and slid the legs of his silk pajamas off the mattress, concealing a mild shiver when bare feet met the cold touch of marbled flooring. Sheets crinkled in his slow shift out of bed, checking every so often for any signs of stirring in the ferret cage. Cautiously tipping on his toes, he snuck his way to the sole exit of the bedroom, twisting the knob ever so delicately.
The soft clink of the door was amplified by night's stillness, door hinges creaking when he cracked the door ajar and strips of light gradually cut through the darkness. He snapped a glance at the cage, and he could now see the visible strain in the ferret's brow despite the overall softness in his features. The deepness of his frown dimpled Remy's chin. He couldn't be certain if the light was bothering him, or if Juan's sleep was that troubled.
Carefully, Remy slipped out of his room and shut the door before the light in the hallway would disturb Juandissimo completely. Empty halls greeted him, brightened by LED lighting. He looked to his left, ensuring the halls were not patrolled by on-sight security, before he looked to his right and froze. Eyeing the door three doors down, the door to the room a middle-aged nanny once occupied. The room that'd been converted into a guest bedroom, erased of everything. Except past sins.
The pit of his stomach eroded at itself in protest, repulsed with memories buried behind the door, seared into his brain. Fenwick had only succeeded in pushing past taboo one time, on the living room couch. The physical damage had been enough to deter him…from going all the way. Didn't deter him from experimentation of other sacrilegious avenues…
Remy winced, the corners of his mouth pinching from the taste of acid crawling on his tongue. He hated his body for how it would always react to every touch, good or bad. Every touch down there, every finger or hand rub in places no grown man's hands should be. Places no grown man's lips should ever be able to rouse the urge to pee in a euphoric way.
He hated how his body always betrayed him. It made him sick to his stomach…
"F-Fenwick, no…"
A scared whimper reverberated across his mind. Whimpers left unheard.
"O-Ow…it…it h-hurts…"
Burns of a stabbing sensation clawed up between his legs. Shuddered when distant moans sighed in his head, echoes of a grown man's pleasure.
"No one loves you like I do…"
He blinked, shaking his head. Try as he might to shove that regret back to the vault from whence it came. Yet it was pointless. Pointless to want respite. His past sins will always haunt him like a vengeful ghost…
Asleep or awake, nightmares never care.
Stumbling to the wall that was luckily behind him, he sunk to the floor, bending his knees against his chest with tight arms. A shaky breath escaped, and unshed tears shimmered swirls of unspoken sadness in his eyes. Yearning for a hug with no one to give him one. All alone. Unloved.
He buried his face into his knees as he coiled into a small ball, his quiet sobs left to comfort themselves.
AN: The next few chapters will give some focus on other characters, so stay tuned!