Olivier kept her head bowed while she waited for one of the servants to answer the door. The Vasseur family was one of the most prestigious names in the city. Its very presence commanded respect and obedience. Speaking with a Vasseur may as well have meant that you were speaking with royalty. Well, if your name was Grey or Louis.
"You got to be kidding me. What the hell is taking so long?" Olivier hissed under her breath. The pain had reduced to a dull ache, throbbing with the beat of her pulse. Focusing on getting into the home was all that kept her from crying.
At last, a man with an impressive mustache and graying hair answered the door. He was dressed like all of Mother and Father's servants—black suit, red tie, priceless shoes that you could eat off. The constant show of prestige made her sick.
"Madam Olivier," the man said, bowing with a hand clapped to his chest. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Save me the song and dance, Franklin," Olivier said, brushing his shoulder as she moved past him. "Point me to my brother and I'll leave you alone."
He raised a brow and pointed to the study at the west wing of the main hall.
Olivier steadied her breath to help alleviate her pain. Most of the medical journals she'd read implied that maintaining a steady heartbeat and a calm outlook improved healing and reduced stress. She had her doubts, but she was willing to try anything.
As she concentrated on her breathing, she strode to the thick dark door, turned the knob, and pushed it open slowly. Most people would've knocked, but given the circumstances of her younger brother, such niceties were pointless.
"Where did you go?" she muttered as she looked to her left, and then her right.
The study was a poor word to use for what was a monstrosity of a library. Whether her parents actually read any of the books, she had no idea. The rumor had been, they originally filled the shelves for her and her brother's sake. Powerful reading material for them as they grew older. As time went on, however, and they became wealthier and more involved with Livion's continued rule as mayor of the city, their interest waned, and the books became little more than additional items for the servants to dust.
A smile tugged at Olivier's mouth as she caught her younger brother reading a thick book in a corner of the room. He sat in a comfortable leather chair, positioned behind a desk like the next mayor. A three-dimensional astrolabe garnished the desk to the boy's side, granting him a studious air.
Olivier strode to the front of the desk, tapping the wood in front of him so he would see. He gasped, then looked up, equal parts shocked and happy to see her. He set the book down to his side, then formed the sign language for "Olivier! I missed you!"
Olivier smiled wider, mouthing the words as she spoke back to him in sign language. "I missed you too, Coy. Are you feeling okay today?"
"Yes!" he said, excitedly forming the signs. She always admired his enthusiasm. Despite being deaf and sickly, he never let it define him or slow him down. How a boy only a few years younger than her could be so happy and filled with energy, she had no idea. "Today's one of my better days. How about you?"
"I'm doing great too," Olivier lied. Coy was aware of her strained relationship with Silas, but she didn't want to be the bringer of bad news. He'd had enough of that lately, what with their parents constantly breathing down his neck about his future. "Are Mom and Dad treating you all right?"
Coy shrugged, then rolled his eyes. "About as well as they're capable of, I suppose." He paused, clicking his tongue forming the sign for 'money.' "You know how Dad is about money."
"Unfortunately, yes. What's going on now?"
Coy shook his head. "Nothing you haven't heard before. How's Silas?"
A dick.
"He's doing okay," Olivier said quickly. "I'm taking care of a few errands while he tidies up the apartment."
Coy raised a disbelieving brow. "Silas tidying? That's not a very good lie. Did something happen again?"
Olivier paused, formed the sign for 'actually,' then thought again. "We can talk about it another time. We're just having some difficulties."
Coy leaned his head to the side, then met her eyes. "As long as he hasn't hurt you."
Olivier refrained from touching the bruise on her elbow. She'd pulled her sleeves down to make sure no one would see it. The last time this topic had come up, Coy nearly made himself sick with worry, and she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she was the cause for his hospitalization.
As she moved to itch her eye, she caught a small red streak on the sleeve of her shirt, stopped, then slowly hid it behind her back, cursing under her breath. Coy wouldn't be able to hear her, but he'd developed a good sense for reading lips.
Damn it.
Coy frowned. "You okay, Sis?"
Olivier swallowed, then nodded. While her haemolacria was mostly harmless, it was alarming and gave others an easy way to tell if she'd been crying. She'd cleaned up before coming over, and felt stupid for missing the streak of blood. Carefully, she pulled each of her sleeves up just enough so that the blood and the bruise were hidden.
Coy was much too smart for his own good. He'd notice it—assuming he hadn't already—and the worries would arise. Even though he was a few years younger than her, he could run circles around her given the right circumstances.
Here's hoping he doesn't see it.
"Where are Mom and Dad?" Olivier asked. She'd intended to say hello to them, but perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. Mother was always too busy telling her and Coy how to walk, how to think, how to dress. It came with being the owner of your own clothing line. Dad, on the other hand, well… Olivier was convinced he was more of a dog than an actual human. All Mayor Livion had to do was ask him to jump, and her father would ask, 'how high?'
"Dad's helping Livion with his next campaign. Mom is—"
As Coy continued to make the signs, the front door opened, and their crone of a mother's voice echoed throughout the main room. Olivier formed the hand sign for 'stop,' then strode to the door of the library. She peeked through the crack to see her mother waving her finger around like a conductor's baton. 'Clean this, make that call, why are you standing around?' She could practically recite the tone to perfection. Olivier shook her head, then returned to Coy.
Can't go two minutes without barking orders, can you, Mother?
"Looks like Mother's home," Olivier made the signs to Coy. Her brother nodded in understanding. The less time she spent around their parents, the better. If they wanted her to maintain a cordial relationship with Silas, then she would do everything in her power to avoid them. "Do you need anything before I go?"
Coy shook his head. "Just promise me to take care of yourself. I don't trust Silas. I'm not okay with what he's done to you in the past."
Olivier never knew how to respond to such statements. Few knew of what was truly going on between them. Coy knew more than the average person, and had been her shoulder to cry on. Even so, he'd never heard of anything like today. If he did, then he would absolutely end up in the hospital.
It was bad enough knowing that one of her best friends was still comatosed. She'd been trying to move on from that, tried to come to terms with the reality that her friend was dead and would never wake again.
Imagining her brother like that made her sick to her stomach.
"I will. I promise."
Olivier turned tail and left before any further bad blood could be spilled. Stick around long enough, and it was only a matter of time before more awful memories were unearthed. She offered her mother little more than a piercing glare and a casual wave as the two brushed shoulders on her way out.
Her mother said nothing, and that suited her just fine.
---
Clothes tumbled in the machines, blanketing Olivier with a brand of white noise that proved to be more therapeutic than she expected. The idea of having her clothes washed and dried at a public laundromat was initially perturbing when she'd moved out of her home. After the same ten servants had done her laundry for most of her life, she'd begun to think that cleaning clothes was beneath her.
She was delighted at how wrong she was.
With ten more minutes left on her batch, she took up an old plastic picnic chair and sat down, hunched forward with her smartphone in hand, and a sucker in her mouth. She scrolled down to Maxis's name, her old friend at the front of her mind. She tapped the screen with her thumb, hoping for a distraction that would never come. Leaving wouldn't be an option while clothes were still in the dryer.
Damn it.
"Maybe I've put it off for too long," she muttered as she typed out the words on her keypad. She paused after she completed her text, then sent it to Maxis.
Hey, Max. Can I ask u for a favor?
Maxis is typing…
Olivier swallowed and shut her eyes. She couldn't take it back now.
Yeah, what's up?
She muttered the words as she typed them, pausing for a moment before sending the message.
I think… it's about time I saw Terra. Will u go with me to visit her?
Maxis is typing…
Moments later, his text came through.
Oh totally! How's next week sound? Ren's got me doing stuff with him this weekend, so im a bit busy.
Olivier frowned. Those two were like peas in a pod.
kk next week, then. Thanks Max.
Yeah, ofc! I know she'll be happy to see u! =)
She clicked the power to her phone, and the screen went black. She let the device dangle from her pointer finger and thumb, rocking it back and forth in thought.
Can she even hear us anymore?