Chapter 7 No.7

She woke to a suffocating silence. Anxious, needing a connection to the outside world, however toxic, she fumbled on the bedside table until her fingers found the cold glass of her phone. She held the power button, and the device vibrated to life in her hand. Not a minute later, the sun streamed through the window, warming the foot of the bed.

Dahlia woke up to the sound of her phone ringing.

She groaned. Gaynell. Again.

She reached for the phone. She had an idea. A petty, desperate idea.

She answered.

Before Gaynell could speak, Dahlia pitched her voice an octave higher. She made it breathless. Sweet.

Oh, Clive... stop it... Mother is on the phone.

She paused, as if listening to someone whisper in her ear.

Gaynell went silent.

Dahlia giggled. It was a fake, sugary sound.

No, honey, not there... I have to talk to her.

Dahlia? Gaynell's voice was suddenly cautious. Respectful. Is Clive there?

Yes, Dahlia sighed. He's being... very distracting. We're having a lazy morning.

She made a smacking sound. A kiss.

Mwah. Behave, darling.

Okay, Mother, I have to go. Clive is getting impatient. Love you, bye.

She hung up.

She threw the phone down and let out a long breath.

Victory.

She smiled to herself. That should buy her a week of silence. Gaynell wouldn't interrupt if she thought they were making an heir.

So, I'm distracting?

The voice came from the bathroom doorway.

Dahlia froze. Her blood turned to ice.

She turned her head slowly toward the sound.

Clive?

He was leaning against the doorframe. He had just showered. A towel was draped around his waist. Water droplets clung to his chest hair. He watched her with amusement dancing in his eyes.

You didn't leave? she squeaked.

Clive walked into the room. No. I slept on the couch.

Dahlia wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She covered her face with her hands.

Oh my god. You heard that.

Every word, Clive said. He walked closer. He smelled of soap and amusement.

I... I just wanted her to leave me alone, she stammered.

Clive chuckled. It was a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in her chest.

It was a very convincing performance, he said. I particularly liked the 'not there' part. Where exactly was I not supposed to be touching you?

Dahlia's face burned. She felt like she was on fire.

Shut up, she groaned.

Clive sat on the edge of the bed. He was enjoying this.

You know, he said, his voice dropping lower. If you need sound effects next time, just ask. I can be very... vocal.

Dahlia hit him with a pillow.

He caught it easily. He laughed again.

It was the first time she had ever heard him really laugh. It wasn't cold. It wasn't cruel. It was warm.

She peeked out from behind her hands.

You're not mad?

Mad? Clive tossed the pillow aside. That was the highlight of my week. Watching you manipulate that witch? It was art.

He poured her a glass of water.

Here. Hydrate. All that moaning must have made you thirsty.

Dahlia groaned again, pulling the sheet over her head.

Clive watched the lump under the covers. His smile faded slightly, replaced by a softer look.

He liked this. He liked her.

The realization terrified him.