Such a delicately dangerous thing.
We’re walking on a tightrope made of fraying string, a bottomless pit beneath our unsteady feet.
We were never meant to love.
Only to follow orders.
Pair.
Fuck.
Breed.
Only that.
In that specific order.
Not love.
Never love.
And yet, I find myself spiralling. The feelings that crash through my chest when I look at her. All consuming. All heavy. All deep. All too much.
But I’ll love her anyway.
With my whole heart.
Soul.
Until death.
White snowdrops and golden winter aconites pop their bright heads up through the wet blades of grass, their petals hanging heavily with beads of dew weighing them down. My boots crush through them as I lead Nellie off the cracked paved path, through the greensward towards a locked mausoleum.
The huge dark grey marble structure stands out, even against the matching grey backdrop of low hanging dark rain clouds. The Blackwell name is etched in gold above the heavy black door, and beneath that, the word all in capital letters, sits the roman numeral two.
Without releasing Nellie’s hand, we head up the seven wide steps, and I slip my other hand into my pocket, drawing out the old wrought iron key, the head of it an ornate design, a ‘2’ caged in by thorny branches.
The lock clicks as I turn the key, the door creaking open with a groan as I push it further open, leading Nellie inside ahead of me, finally breaking contact with her to turn back around and push the door shut, enclosing us inside the darkness.
The long match hisses as I strike it, the flame dancing wildly for a moment before settling as it comes into contact with a candle wick. Maybe a hundred red and pink pillar candles placed expertly around the space. I light enough of them to be able to see clearly, a few on either side of the steps, others along the walls, some in each corner, more in the alcoves cut out along the walls.
Penelope stands just inside at the bottom of the steps when I turn towards her, her eyes staring off into the centre of the room, a large single marble vault the object of her attention.
She doesn’t say anything as I come around it, my right hand smoothing along the length of it as I come to a stop off to the side at the end.
“Nelli-”
“I liked listening to the bells.” It’s far away, the way she speaks, her voice like a haunting whisper spoken by something not quite here. Her eyes still on the marble coffin before her, “You can feel them in your bones when you’re inside the church.” She smiles almost shyly to herself. “Do you think they’ll ever ring for us?” she asks me, her attention still not on me, a frown suddenly forming between her brows. “So unsafe. So naïve. So unclean.” Her eyes come to mine, big glassy orbs, the deepest brown ringed in the darkest black, her pupils wide, face shadowed in the orange flickering candlelight. “Stupid,” she whispers, her voice dry and cracked from unuse. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she hushes out, banging her palms against the sides of her head, the heel of her hands smacking loudly into her temples in time with her words.
I lunge forward, catching her wrists, wrenching her hands away from her face, “Nellie, stop.”
Her hands claw at the back of mine, at my thumbs, fingers, everywhere her nails can reach, forcing me backwards, our hands between us, her walking me back at a clip until my spine is connecting with the icy marble wall.
She’s still scratching at me, bending her elbows, her body coming flush with mine, no space between us as she gouges at my face, reaching up high, clawing and clawing. I’m shoving her hands down between us, spinning us around, her spine slamming into the wall she forced me against, and pinning her there, her hands still wriggling in my hold, desperate to get at me.
“Penelope.” I say firmly, a warning to stop, her breathing uneven, her eyes far away, the tears rolling down her cheekssoaking into the cotton of my shirt. “Penelope,” I repeat. She doesn’t stop, her hands still working, feet kicking, she fights me with everything she has, scoring the skin of my face, drawing blood on my neck. “Penelope!” I shout, panicking, releasing her hands.
Her head snaps to the side as my hand connects with her cheek, slapping her hard enough for it to make my own ears ring. My breathing is heavy, panting, my palms go to the wall on either side of her, my head hanging down between us, I squeeze my eyes closed, her face still turned away from me, her hair shielding her.
