LUCIEN

 

AFTER OUR SHOWER together, I tucked Adeline into my bed where Maria had just finished putting on clean sheets.  And then I left her under the care of Jax, who was more than happy to check up on her and see how she was feeling.

I should be jealous by his overzealous nature with Adeline as of late, but my thoughts are too fixated on the words she said in the shower.

She feels dirty because of things that happened that were beyond her control.  Because of something I didn't prevent.  Because of something I ultimately caused by keeping her here on this island.

Making my way down the steps and to the east wing of the mansion, I enter the gym and flick a switch.  A moment later, the numerous overhead fluorescent lights click on, buzzing softly and illuminating the large room with state-of-the-art gym equipment and an indoor pool visible in the next room through a wall of glass.

I inhale deeply, the strong scent of disinfectant filling my lungs.  Maria keeps this room immaculately hygienic, and that's what makes it one of my favorite rooms in the mansion.

A battered punching bag hangs from the ceiling in the center of the room, and I don't even wrap my hands before I start wailing on it.

My fists rain blow after blow onto the beat-up leather until my knuckles are bruised and eventually cracked and bleeding.

But I don't stop.

I can't stop.

I'm taking all of my anger and frustration out on this bag, and it's the safest way for me to get all of it out of my system.

I blame myself for what happened to Adeline.  And all I can think about is how I wish I could have stopped Rafael in some way or changed the course of events.

If I could go back and do everything differently from the start, I would.

But it's too late.

It's too fucking late.

After another twenty minutes or so, I finally tire myself out to the point of almost complete exhaustion.  Wrapping my hands with a couple of small towels, I leave the gym and go straight to my office.

I've been so preoccupied with Adeline that I haven't even stepped foot in here since she was attacked.

I dump the bloody towels in the trash before I pour myself a glass of whiskey.  And then another.  And then another until I feel somewhat back to my normal, miserable self.

I've never been one to often indulge in alcohol, but lately I've been turning to the bottle to help soothe my dark soul.  I'm trying to numb everything that's going on with me internally, and I know it's not good…but I just can't seem to fucking stop myself.

When I go to pour another drink to numb my mind, it's only then that I realize I've used the same glass for every drink I've poured.  Frowning, I stare down at the dirty glass that has my fingerprints and saliva and dust and dirt and inconceivable little particles that were floating in the air that probably fell into the liquid.

Gagging, I take the drink into the adjacent bathroom and pour the expensive whiskey down the drain before dumping the glass in the trashcan.

Going back into my office, I grab a fresh cup from the cupboard, which is stocked full of different sized glassware wrapped in cellophane, and pour a new drink.  As I grip the glass in my hand and stare at it, I realize I'm slowly changing, evolving somehow.  I didn't even think twice before about using the same glass before more than once.

Adeline is changing me.

Little by little she's managed to do what even the most trained psychiatrists haven't been able to.  Instead of obsessing about germs and disorder, my focus has been intently drawn to her.  I think about her constantly.  And I guess, in a way, my brain doesn't have room for much else because she completely and utterly consumes me.

I look around my office and notice that some of my post-it notes are out of place, my keyboard is askew and a drink that is at least a week old is sitting by the computer mouse.  The last time I was in here, I was in such a rush to find her that I just left everything as it was.

Sitting my new drink down by the old one, my hands twitch at my sides, and I can feel a shiver running up my spine.

I don't allow chaos in my world.  Only control.

And right now I'm feeling very out of control.

Everything that happened to Adeline was out of my control.  And now even my office, which should be a sanctuary for me, is in disarray.

With one fell swoop, I empty the entirety of my desk onto the floor, needing to start over, needing it to be organized and clean again.  Everything crashes to the floor, and then I'm suddenly on my knees, gripping my notes into my hands and ripping them to shreds.

There are broken shards of glass everywhere, and I can only watch in horror as the liquids soak into the cracks between the hardwood and into the fibers of the expensive rugs.  Instantly, I know that no matter how many times or well I clean I'll never be able to reach the recesses that they've gone.

And when I slink back in horror at the mess I have created, I cry out like a wounded animal, slamming my fists to the floor…and I lose my fucking mind.