I saw Jude's mouth opening before closing again; he seemed genuinely stunned.
Even if he would speak, I was sure to have judged the situation correctly
"If you don't want to continue to be a victim of domestic violence, I would recommend that you either find yourself help, or you flee from this place as well." I was relieved to have gotten it off my chest, at least partly having done my responsibility as a teacher and adult.
"Now get down." I asked him; he was straddling me but not sitting on me, one hand still on my chin, the other having wandered from my wrist to enclosing my whole hand.
I have to say, I was angry. It wasn't enough to be seen by one person as a substitute; the second Lennister was the same as his father.
Every freaking one here saw me as a substitute, and, just because of my appearance, I had been ripped out of my old life. I have had enough of this.
When Jude didn't move, I contemplated kneeing him, but then I remembered that he was still injured.
"Get down now." I urged him, and he finally obeyed.
Only now do I remember what would await for me, if Thomas had walked into us in this kind of position.
Rubbing my numb wrist, I got out of the bed, feeling the disgust come back when thinking about what this bed should have witnessed over the years. I walked to the desk and pocketed the golden rings and earrings.
"If you don't have capital to run away, then use the gold necklace." It should be worth a lot, at least more than the ring earrings.
"Be careful about your injuries."
Not looking back at him, I walked out of the room and hurried into Thomas' bedroom.
It was luckily empty, as was the bathroom, so I grabbed some new sleepwear and hurriedly washed away the filth I felt from being viewed as a substitute. The alcohol should, meanwhile, be out of my system, and I could feel the nausea setting in.
Either from the beginning hangover or the two psychos in this house.
The biggest joke was Jude's stunned reaction. Is it so normal to come every night into the bedroom of your stepmother and stare at her? No, it was not; I was in the right to tell him he should stop it. I should have done that much, much sooner.
These two men are full-fledged lunatics, and I was caught up in their bullshit. Just because of my face? Should I change it on my way?
I don't know, but cutting my hair and dying it for real, along with my eyebrows and lashes, sounded like a good idea.
Under the hot water, I felt my anger being washed away.
I can understand Jude somewhat; naturally, one would get curious about his own father's obsession, especially when it came at the cost of one's mother's sanity. And she had to be insane to dress up willingly, hoping her husband would view her as a substitute.
I am the same as him, curious as well, which was the reason why I tried to find out more.
The reason I snapped, and I have to praise myself for not yelling at the child, the reason I snapped reasonably was because I was really embarrassed.
His actions were so improper and crazy, messing with my head. Naturally, I thought of the possibility that he had a crush on me, and while it would be disgusting if it came from every other teenager, if it was Jude, it felt different, dangerous.
Now that the reason he did all that, including the excessive staring, had only been because of some other woman who could be my mother, I felt really embarrassed to have thought too much. And at that moment, I felt like one of these cougar women who were searching for young men, although this was really never the case.
The second reason was that I kind of felt like I shared a secret with Jude; with his psychopathic behavior, he was still better than Thomas, and I felt he was my ally. I felt as if I could protect him from himself, or at least I was willing to try. Was this the typical bad boy syndrome?
Now, his staring had a whole new spin to it, creeping me out.
It didn't matter anymore; if Jude wasn't needing me, my appearance even messing with his mind to start setting people on fire, the best I could do for him and me was to disappear.
This is all so messed up.
When I finished showering and clothing myself, I went to my treasures. I would have to part with most of them when I leave because if Thomas was somehow informed of my loot and saw it missing when I packed for the school trip, he would know instantly that I was trying to run. But I would still take the marble, the magnet beads and the golden cards with me; they were all my favorites.
Regarding my cat... The words of the golden-dressed woman echoed through my head.
'...there would be only worn-out jogging suits and stuffed-out cats.'
While thinking of that sentence, I laid on the floor in the walk-in closet, from where I could see my cat under the bed.
"You are real, aren't you?" I asked it, and the cat turned to me, its golden eyes blinking as I blinked back, before it propped itself up and stretched, similar to how Jude had done it. Then it came out from under the bed and purred at me, walking up and down beside me while grazing my body with its tail.
When my fingers sank into the soft fur, I felt reassured again,
"Yeah, you have to be real."
**************
Thomas POV
The month passed, and every time I was with her, I was left riddled with wounds. And every time she had enough of tormenting me, you appeared so right on time, as if you knew that I needed you. You cared for me like nobody had, wasn't it only natural that I became obsessed with you?
This obsession would never let go of me, as long as I live and as long as she lives – the catalyst that brought you to me.
Perhaps you just cared for me because you felt responsible for her actions, but did it matter? As long as she tormented me, you would be here to care for me.