To pause Mrs. Aries' squints at the spurious gentleman, Mr. Aries intended to beat about the bush.
"Love! This is Brice: my new business ally," Alain introduced his guest with skeptically agleam eyes.
"I know her damn well. You're Angela. Am I mistaken?" Brice interrupted the company owner to irk her after he had goggled at her.
"Br…Brice! It can't be possible. Aren't you dead?" Ange had stammered before she succumbed to her shock.
At the hall of a fabled hospital, Alain fretted about his other half afore a nurse showed up to ingeminate Angela's words:
"Mrs. Aries wants to see you desperately."
The adoring husband hence hied to breathlessly see and warmly ask his wife: "My queen! How are you feeling now? Are you still in pain?"
"He must be dead," with inaudible breaths, she responded to his concerns.
"Dead! Did you say dead? For now, ease off my life!" Alain said.
"Brice must be dead," she reiterated.
As soon as Brice stood out aback and heard his partner curiously uttering: "Brice! Dead! What is that supposed to mean?"
After he had intuited Ange's low voice, he haughtily aimed to invigorate her with malignant eyes: "Your Bambino isn't dead. Your bambino is still alive, Angela!"
"Oh! So, that's what she meant. Dang, I hate being slow-witted. But buddy, I must acknowledge that you're still a devilish genius," Alain panegyrized Brice.
At this praise, an anxiety crash abreast of whisk heartbeats hit the life of Ange.
After the dusk had sprawled across the sky, Angela arose from a heavy slumber. To the downstairs family room, she staggered to shockingly find her unexpected brother-in-law. For a quarter-hour, the two siblings and Ange thence exchanged thirsty gazes for the truth to decimate the chary silence. As curiosity soaked the mesial temporal lobe of the husband, he wondered how his wife and his brother do know each other.
"Emmm…" hesitated Ange.
"I and Angela met by surprise in a studio for a magazine cover shoot. And she…" finished Brice.
"Have you mistaken him for someone else when you earlier thought he was dead?" interrupted him Alain to address his wife.
"Hahaha…She heard me by mistake telling jocosely the executive editor of the Present-day Woman magazine: 'Aren't you dead?'" sanguinely replied Brice.
All Ange could do this time was nodding her head in surrender. Her conspicuous attenuation hence toughened Brice's heart newly. To shun his overt retributive eyes and meanwhile salve her spouse's doubts, Angela firmly stood behind a portrait of a bleeding angel shuddering with death throes on the lap of a malevolent man to croon a familiar song. With her dulcet voice, Ange could grip their attention:
Tomorrow's gotta be greater
So if you wanna reach your zenith of rapture
As a fair trope
You shall believe in hope
♥♥♥
Tomorrow's gotta be greater
Weep your tears my lil' brother
And fear not broda
For we're under the wings of yoda
♥♥♥
Tomorrow's gotta be greater
Let's stick to each other
And rove about the may tree
As a happy family to feel free
♥♥♥
Tomorrow's gotta be greater
Mum's gonna be the fiddler
Pa a whistler
And me naturally the singer
♥♥♥
Tomorrow's gotta be greater
So hold my right hand tighter
And let's fight together
To be with each other forever
♥♥♥
After Angela had restated the last adagio lyric of the song, she slowly opened her eyes to find the two brothers grabbing her white cotton pajamas and sobbing meantime in woe.
"Hurrah! Our Angela is still alive" they chortled at their desperate situation.
Once Ange sorrowfully knelt down to comfort them, Alain beseeched in sorrow: "Please! Don't leave me alone again?" And Brice screamed in regret: "I beg you to forgive me, my…"
Her sympathetic embrace luckily prevented him to expose his family's dark secret. As her compassion triumphed over her intellect, the naïve woman was thoroughly deluded.
"I'll be always here for you guys," with lachrymose eyes, Angela gently consoled the two siblings.
On the bed, a plethora of invasive thoughts alighted from nowhere to back Ange to wield her mind rather than her heart.
"Does Brice really feel repentant for brutally subduing me for four seasons? I just can't believe it…He formerly shed crocodile tears once a month…But maybe, he felt today mindful of his ruthlessness toward me after he had found me hospitalized this afternoon…Nah! This can't be true…I can't be fooled by his masterful acting anymore…As far as I know; a psychopath can never change even if he's willing to…I am now on tenterhooks to savvy what he's been hiding along with my husband from me all this time," reasoned Mrs. Aries.
Before she acquiesced in slain fatigue, Angela heard Alain murmuring: "I'm terribly sorry for not being able to save you, my darling". With her euphonious voice along with soft hand touches across his apprehensive face, she could lightly make him delight in a pleasant sleep. And with his affecting words of sorrow, Ange could peacefully shut her eyes sans her anodynes.
The heavy nightmare awakened the struggling lady unawares to make her continuously wheeze. While someone's threats repeatedly rang in both her ears, Angela burst into constant tears. For the first time ever, Alain did not feel the flames of her grief. He might have been exhausted by work. Or he might have been overwhelmed with shock. Nobody really knows. In the middle of her dilemma, she chose to diarize her horrifying dream. As Ange started lately to endure a few symptoms of pseudodementia, her psychiatrist advised her to account her days. On the last blank page, she summoned up her nightmare as soon as a peal of thunder made the stars evanesce. On a vivid light, she penned:
"In a recognizable abode, I opened my eyes in a lusterless derelict room. There was only one eerie candle implanted in a skull on the corner. Wherein I was scared stiff of peering at a sable menacing statement: 'I'm your real nightmare from now onwards, Angela'. As a spooky silhouette stepped to blow out the candle, I felt like the myocardium was squeezing my heart out of consternation. On my way to sprint toward the next dimmed room, I eyed blood drops. From a crashed door, I found the favorite celadon T. shirt of my hubby wholly spattered with blood. At this spot, I broke down in tears. I then vociferated, 'Why did you kill him?' To terrify me more, the chasing silhouette chuckled at me and then said: 'Your DH is just a goofy lover. I didn't kill him. Love did, dunce'. I knew it was him. Yep! It was the fiend: Brice. I finally recognized him by the contemptuous word 'dunce'. He often called me by this name whenever I unintentionally messed up. Once again, he blew the only candle in the second room to let the dark ingurgitate me. I effortlessly had to watch my end. I could do nothing, except that I prayed for a miracle to happen. Suddenly, Amel appeared. I really saw her. I even touched her. She looked so real. Amel then hugged me and voiced: 'You must remain alive to tell my story!' Her words undoubtedly strengthened me to help me run to the last room. As far as I remember, it looked like a ghastly nursery room. There were ashen baby toys around a caged crib. Once chilling violin music of J. Bishara, known as 'Insidious,' was played; the baby's bed twirled. At this point, my body froze in fear while counting Brice's steps. As he loomed toward me, my heartbeats slacked off. When the music ended, the metallic door of the cage opened. At the same instant, I felt something squashing my abdomen. Then I wailed out of early labor contractions. Before I arose, Brice had guffawed at me. Thereafter, he had scorned me saying that I'm too weak to kill him".
On an early morn, Angela widely opened the frontal window to let the zephyr skim across her head. She afterward went downstairs to have breakfast while profoundly praying to the Lord that she was just hallucinating the last day about the return of Brice. She simpered after Alain had nuzzled her neck as a signal of a romantic greeting. "Everything is back to normal. Thank God!" mumbled Ange. "Bon appetit, everybody!" Angela had addressed her small family before Brice surprisingly patted her shoulder.
"Morning, my brother's wifey!" he whispered.
Once Ange squirmed, she muttered: "Who the hell allowed you to barge in?" Shortly after, she added with knitted eyebrows: "You definitely owe me an explanation, Mr. Aries".
Alain, who had always been known as an adamantine man, looked frail in front of his freakish sibling. With no response, he scuttled toward the doorway, together with Brice. Angela was thence left in an absolute daze grappling with her mind to reach a single cogent answer to her tentative questions.
"Is Alain emotionally threatened as well? Why didn't he even react when his loony brother leered at me earlier? He just keeps befogging me with his choking silence. I felt guilty for years for hiding my truth from him. And now I realize that he's been doing the same. But still, I'd figure out a solution to drive Brice away…" she questioned.
Though Mrs. Aries donned an unusual clothing style in order not to be caught, Lune could still recognize her.
"What in the world are you doing here, Ange?" she queried after she had read from an overhead placard "THE RENEWAL PSYCHIATRIC CLINIC".
"And why this poor taste of clothes, sweetie?" Lune wondered one more time.
One ought to cognize for a fact that she believed that pants must be gendered. She certainly overheard men saying: "It's not feminine to wear pants!"
At her perplexity, Angela was lucky enough to make up a rathe lie after a child from the clinic had confused her with his aunt.
"Oh! Here you are, my dear," Ange pretendedly exclaimed as the little boy clutched her cool gray woolen coat.
"This is one of our lovely children from the orphanage whom we take care of. Alas, he has lately been enduring some psychological issues. Since Ms. Emon is occupied, I volunteered to take charge of this baby angel," she then elucidated.
"How kind of you, girl!" responded Lune pretending as if she truly cared about this matter.
"Well, I gotta go now. I've a very important appointment tonight," she had thereafter added before a good egg snatched her.
To her luck, the mother of the child appeared right after Lune had disappeared. The woman subsequently apologized and clarified that her sister often wore a boater hat, hexagonal sunglasses, and trendy winter boots. All in black color, just like her.
As Angela climbed the carpeted stairs, she eavesdropped on the argument between a quinquagenarian man and the receptionist about whether it is crucial to have a purpose in life or not. He surely was the one who mooted that question for discussion. And she obviously could not ignore his query. As Ange reached Ms. Emma's cordial office, she hearkened to the psychiatrist's phone call when she precisely assured: "Alright! I'll send you a thorough report of her medical records, soon".
"I can read your bewildered face of you questioning yourself whether it's moral to expose private info of my patients," declared Ms. Emma.
"How could she do that?" thought Angela.
"Um…I see that you're still wondering about it. I've to admit that I love your curiosity, sweetheart," avowed the psychiatrist.
"Can't she just dig into it?" pondered Ange.
"Fine, I'll tell you now. Cate is a fifteen-year girl who has recently developed a conduct disorder. It's a sort of a behavioral problem typically related to ferity toward human beings and animals. As her teacher is concerned about her, he wants to apprehend more about this mental issue to know how to deal with her. Everything else remains confidential in this secret room. Always remember that trust is paramount to make things work in a better way," clarified the doctor.
"Now, shall we start over well!" proposed Ms. Emma.
"I feel safe between these four walls, except when you summon back my harrowing memories," claimed the patient.
"What's the thing in your hand?" asked the mental counselor.
"It's a proof of my truthfulness," retorted Angela.
"Very well! I'll have a look at it. Meanwhile, I request you to sit straight hither," uttered the psychiatrist.
"I remember you telling me last time that the dead can't be back. And the rest must be now sentenced by karma in consonance with my account. But, I would love to sorrowfully say that Brice got back. And this isn't fantasy, unfortunately, doctor!" confidently spoke Ange.
"Aren't you glad to know that you're not a killer?" speculated Ms. Emma.
"I've never planned to kill him before. And I've never thought that killing him is deemed a crime. Sweeping him out is a decent try to decimate evil from this world," believed Angela.
"The six specters which constantly hunt you down aren't in fact your adversaries. Rather, they denote the feeling of guilt, regret, fear, shame, anger, and revenge that these dark personalities enkindled your heart with," expounded the psychiatrist.
"You're quite right for Brice had emotionally been blackmailing me for a long haul," stated Mrs. Aries.
"Do you still feel confined to a pang of guilt?" asked the doctor.
"Of course! It made me feel afore angry and nowadays afeared," claimed Ange.
"You reckon Brice a killer. That's what I deduced after perusing your diary," understood the counselor.
"Indeed. Everything from whether reality or my nightmares interpret his actions as threats," summed up the patient.
"Do you have any other evidence?" inquired Ms. Emma.
"Certainly! His physical attributes like his blood-inflamed eyes, his ogles, and his curved schnoz like a hawk prove that he's a murderer," alleged Mrs. Aries.
"It's not me who says that. The Italian criminologist, Cesare Lombroso, does," she then added.
"His theory of crime is meticulous about facial appearance. So, it is too subjective to be taken into consideration on your part," shortly explicated the doctor.
"What does your husband say about all of this?" she again questioned.
"Since his brother is back, he no longer smiles. And he shoots me each time I wanna an explanation with his eldritch silence. I can't ask him about anything anymore because I'm scared to be dumped again. I'm sure Brice is behind this," dolefully answered Angela.
"Although they caused you great pains, they still can become your muse, sweetie," counseled Ms. Emma.
At that point, Ange started bawling out of a heart spasm.
By sundown, people generally bid a vivid farewell to their worries. Whereas Mrs. Aries stood agape while she found Lune binge drinking with Brice around her poor husband. Once more, someone else mercilessly stabbed her on her back. Ange did not really know if she had to shriek or shout. Hence, she smiled and said:
"It seems you're hiding lots of things from me, Ms. Auclair!" Angela shockingly began to converse.
"I still don't know who really you are either, Mrs. Aries!" Lune vainly replied.
"I got dressed cos I've been told that some special guests on the part of my spouse are coming. I wasn't warned at all to get ready for another deception from a close friend of the family," Ange addressed her mind.
"I'm not tryna be insolent. I'm just joking. So, chill out my dear!" Ms. Auclair idly assured.
Angela had to unwind the rope of dismay from her soft neck. Thenceforth, she had to gaze at Alain in the whole soiree to founder in her best memories with him. None can ever inculpate her for she was on edge. After all, it is unmalleable to be trapped within a void of lies.
In her regal bedchamber, Ange had to whine deep down in her heart for her rough day refused to vanish. Despite his sensitivity and proximity, Alain could not for the first time hear bellows of outrage between her heart and mind. Whence she decided to only focus on a lump of her angst.
"Words and actions are certainly the keys to judge each other," her heart gleaned.
"What if someone smiles at you as an approach to use you later?" her mind questioned.
"Interesting! I never thought of it this way," her heartbeats tuned.
"What if someone cusses you cos of a tongue slip?" her encephalon asked.
"Just go easy! Aren't we supposed to be positive no matter what?" addressed the heart.
"Not at all! I just want you to transcend your sensations," advised the mind.
"Can you be clearer, please?" requested Angela.
"You never learn, do you?" assumed life.
As the months passed, Ange strove to apply her mental counselor's suggestions. To ebb her fear away, she used to stand in front of the Venetian mirror and visualize availing scenes in her encounters with Brice. She finally realized that her fear was his big emotional supply. And to dwindle her anger, Angela had to rely on playing the piano whenever he prated on with Alain to especially mortify her. From the insulated walls of the glasshouse, C. Tausig's piece of music "The Ghost Ship" triggered goosebumps all around Camille's body in her repeated failing ventures to look for Mrs. Aries. And before closing her eyes, Ange was motivated to conceive positive plans to overcome the inhumed dark which constantly sparks egregious expectations about tomorrow.
In a flaring backyard oasis, Angela perched on a light branch of the Red Maple Tree to be nestled against the aflame sun rays. A flock of robins then circled around her to please her with their tuned chirps. Yet, the expected message of Brice gashed her delight. As she faintly read: "Submit to me, or I'll tell your hubby your history!" the robins began to loudly squeak. Once Ange felt dizzy, the birds alighted all over her head and arms to make a balance. And like every time, the lost soul of Amel showed up on time to awaken her from the deceiving death. After she had blown into her right ear, Angela comprehended that a blackmailer never leaks his true intentions. She thence decided to see his mother to sate her curiosity.
With a Mountbatten pink silk dress and beige heels, Mrs. Aries welcomed her mama in an unfrequented cafeteria in town. To her amazement, Mrs. Sophie faltered for Ange made her reminisce about a beloved whom she yearned for every day.
"Dear God! You look exactly like her with this attire," haltingly spoke the mother-in-law while fumbling Angela's face.
"Like who, mama?" asked the daughter-in-law as soon as she clasped her mama's hands.
"I missed you so much my daughter!" exclaimed Mrs. Sophie.
"How's everything mama?" questioned Ange.
"Everything is peachy," assuredly replied the mother-in-law.
"Mama! I need to ask you something important. Who is Brice?" inquired the daughter-in-law with widely open eyes.
"Oh my Lord! So, the nemesis has just returned," responded Mrs. Sophie with trembling lips.
"The nemesis! Isn't Brice your eldest son?" wondered Angela.
"He is indeed. But, he once ceded his soul to the devil. Shortly, a poor wretch is Brice," declared her mama.
"I understand that this nightmare won't end. If you can't stop him, what in the world can?" vented Ange.
After Mrs. Sophie had taken off a priceless white golden butterfly clip from her silver hair, she insisted:
"This shall protect your family. I entrust you to keep it safe."
Despite her crumbled heart, Angela could not meekly succumb to her weakness and the detrimental silence of her husband. Rather, she planned to go on a picnic along with her small family that afternoon in the Monceau Park. With her amaranth linen wrap dress, her brother-in-law, who suddenly intruded into their private space, could not take his eyes off her. However, the glimpse of that butterfly hair clip could distance him away for fine hours. The panicky look of Brice did conciliate her. Whereas Alain was paying for her mistake in an inconspicuous spot yonder. Since the picturesque landscapes of the glorious park refreshed her mind, she did not notice the disappearance of the two brothers.
As soon as Alain got drunken, he started to chant familiar lyrics with a dismal tone. Once Ange heard that song from upstairs, she thought Brice infringed on her spouse's home office. She then tiptoed to wipe her willful doubts. At the door, Angela stood thunderstruck while her consort was insanely groaning. When he sighted her, he threw himself at her to abate his soreness. As she folded him in her arms, she gaped at severe lashes all over his cervical spine. While he peered at her white golden butterfly hair clip. Out of shock, they both felt numb for a moment.
"Who did this for you?" Ange then asked with perplexed eyes.
"Where did you find my sister's hair clip?" Alain shockingly broke in.
"Your sister? What sister are you talking about? Do you also have a sister? Be frank with me, Alain!" Angela outcried.
"I did. I no longer have. This is why I've these lashes to recall her pure memory in good and bad times," Mr. Aries numbly professed.
"That's insane! What are you even talking about? I'm sure that's just the effect of alcohol. Please, come to your senses my honey!" Mrs. Aries vociferated.
"Only pain has the power to assemble all of us as one family," Alain affirmed.
"He did this for you. Huh, he's the one. Tell me!" Ange hastily quizzed.
"I thought that I detached myself from my baneful past. But, the execrative arrival of my brother enforced me to submit to him to protect you and our baby," Alain defeatedly avowed.
"You just gave him the right to torture you. That's absolutely psychotic! I can't get it anymore. I'm driven crazy now," Angela shrieked.
"You know? I can't wait to see Ange again," Mr. Aries desolately intervened.
"Babe, Look at me! I'm Ange, your wife. And I'm right here next to you," Mrs. Aries reassured.
"No! I missed the other Angela, my graceful sister," Alain explained.
"So…If Angela is your real sis, who am I then…Who am I? Answer me, Alain! Answer me…now," Ange screeched.
"And I wondered earlier what triggered him to reminisce about her memory on my back. It was this butterfly hair clip. This shall protect you forever, my Ange," Alain reasoned.
"You felt pity for me that day…You just married me cos I remind you of her…You even called me Ange cos you did the same for her. Right? And your mom…Your mom also loved me cos she saw me as the version of her deceased daughter…I am not her…I am Mrs. Angela Aries, your wife and the mother of your baby. You hear me, Mr. Aries?" Angela yelped.
"How do you know she's dead? She told you that?" Mr. Aries queried.
"I just assumed. Now tell me! Who am I for you?" Mrs. Aries riposted after she had recalled Brice averring by mistake that his only sister passed away in an accident.
"My dear Ange, I've always seen you and loved you as my charming life partner. You are the best thing which had ever happened to me in my miserable life. Since I knew you, happiness brightly glistered in my castle. Loving my sis and calling you Ange like her doesn't have anything to do with use, pity, or guilt. Her doleful death did not disable me to discern between the love of a sibling relationship and the love of a wifey. Take a deep breath!" Alain smoothly explicated.
"Why did you turn yourself into a victim?" Ange bemusedly inquired.
"In the past, it was to share our common pain. But, I had to do it these weeks and months cos I didn't wanna lose you in the same way we lost Éclair," Mr. Aries maintained.
"So, it's Br…Brice…That psycho is a murderer. Oh my God! He must be sentenced to death," Angela wailed.
"He strongly hit her by the Begonia pot to silence me," Alain added.
"God help me, please!" Mrs. Aries implored.
"Cool down. All of this shall end by tomorrow. The moment I saw you, I redeemed myself to protect you until the last day of my life," Mr. Aries promised.
In the late morning of the next day, someone, whom the Aries family expected to come, parked his car alongside the glasshouse. Before Alain walked out to meet his guest, he had romantically knelt to kiss his wife on the belly. And while looking into her puny eyes, he told her that all will be fine.
"Get ready for I've a beautiful surprise for you! After I fix everything, I'll come back to pick you up," the affectionate spouse informed.
"I love surprises. But, I love you more," Angela passionately whispered.
"And I love you the most my Ange," Alain lustfully spoke.
After Alain had taken wing, Ange followed him to give him his black briefcase. As she reached the doorway, she was taken aback. It seemed her husband was entrapped as well. It was not his friend, the detective cop. It was Brice, who got off a police vehicle, dressed in his trench coat and his round-rimmed spectacles. In the midst of this muddled scene, Angela by chance descried Alain's celadon T. shirt. As she realized it is the end, she sprinted towards her spouse to protect him with her back. "Hie to thy glasshouse!" he had whispered before his sibling shot him in the head. Behind the glassy door, Ange remembered that Brice is genetically inflicted by lepidopterophobia, according to her consort. While Alain was breathing his last. Between a feeling of loss and safety, Mrs. Aries was torn into a flow of agonies listening to his threats.
"I'm crazily infatuated with you, Ange. Open this damn door!" her brother-in-law screamed in insanity after numerous failing kicks and clouts.
"God save us!" Angela implored as soon as she underwent severe labor contractions.
When Ange slightly opened her eyes, she could not recall anything. In her endeavor to sense her surrounding, she had blurred vision. Yet, she could hear Brice calling for Lune in a loud voice.