Begin

After showering and becoming human again, I felt a sudden sense of urgency to explore. After dressing and preparing myself with Emmet's note as a comfort, I began exploring the vast estate. I thought the inside would be a good place to end, so I went to the front door. It was large, wooden and had silver handles. I turned the left handle softly, and a sudden blast of spring air caught me off guard. I shivered in the sweeping doorway. I set out toward the main gate, I wasn't trying to escape, but I wanted to stand in awe of this estate rather than fear like the first time I arrived here. As I walked along the concrete driveway, I felt a sense of unease, as if someone was watching me. I kept my pace and reached the large iron gates. I turned, leaning against them and looking back on the estate. Two floors; many large windows in each room, chimneys with smoke rising from the West side; I assumed that might have been the kitchen wing. I looked over, seeing the sweeping treeline down the East side of the estate, the leaves returning after the cold winter. On the top floor of the East side was a large, rounded arch window. It looked so familiar; was that the Tsar's office? I looked back toward the estate, noticing that some of the blinds of the rooms were open. I tried to spot my room and noticed it was right above the main doors. Had I just never noticed when looking out the window that my room looked out onto the front courtyard? I took a deep breath and began to walk down the drive towards the main doors again, this time not with fear but with trepidation. I thought more about what Thomas had said as I strode along the driveway. He had been here for almost four years, a slave? But, if the Tsar had let me explore the estate, did he know I wouldn't run? It's not like anyone tried to stop me as I reached the main gates, so why wouldn't Thomas have just left? I reached the main doors again and walked inside. Standing at the foot of the sweeping staircase, I noticed two corridors; one going west, one going east. I decided to go east first. Walking past the room, I first came to and came upon a large sitting room. It was more like a spacious lounge, with a full bar in the back corner. It was huge. A crystal candler hung from the middle of the room, with soft crystal tear drops falling from it. In the centre was a leather lounge suite, old and brown, well worn. Between the four couches sat a single, dark oak table. It held a small set of wine glasses in the middle and a decanter. For such a large space to only have four couches, and no less, crowded together like this in the middle of the room? It made it feel so empty. I walked past, heading towards the bar and noticed a small hallway between two rooms. At the end of the hall was a bathroom and two doors. One went north; one went south. The southern door piqued my interest first. I put my hand on it and opened it. Inside was a large, glass conservatory-looking room. Filled with plants and flowers, the smells were beautiful. I took a deep breath, holding the fragrance in my lungs. It was so peaceful in this room. The sun was peeking in through the large, rounded windows. I liked this room; it made me feel safe. I noticed a small table and chairs near the main window. I walked towards it, noticing dirty planting tools, like a shovel and a small rake leaning against it. Someone had been tending to the plants here. I sat at the table and marvelled over the collection of plants; Geraniums, Monsteras, some with holes, some with full leaves, bigger than my head, Ficus', Yuccas, Ferns, tall and leafy, and Orchids, with their scent, piercing my nose. It was pleasant, and I enjoyed their colours. This space was a great place to explore; I could read here as often as I liked. I noticed a small bookshelf filled with botany books; I wouldn't even need to bring books; I had plenty to read here. I knew a fair bit about plants; I had read many science books and botanical journals when I was with Ho Ming. He wanted to have a conservatory just like this in his mansion but had no time or patience for plants, let alone a gentle hand or a green thumb. I chuckled and deiced to keep exploring the estate. I would come to spend more time here. Eventually, I thought. I returned to the hallway, turning now to the Northern door. I put my hand on the silver handle but hesitated for some reason. I didn't know why, but turning this handle would not be a good thing for some reason. Was I worried about the things Thomas had said, that behind here is where people were kept as slaves? My curiosity grew, and my hesitation subsided. I twisted the handle, and it opened without issue. Inside the room lay a bed, some drawers, a small window on the East wall and a large bookcase. It looked like a normal bedroom. Nothing out of place, no sign of human life or torture. I sighed with relief when suddenly I felt a body behind me in the doorway. I was afraid to turn until a familiar voice broke the silence,
"I see you've found my room." It was Patrick. My knees felt as if they would collapse from relief. He smiled gently at me and put his hand on my shoulder, ushering me back through the doorway. As I turned to face him and tried to speak, he closed the door behind him and disappeared into his room. I leaned against the door and whispered, 'I'm sorry.' 

I made my way back through the lounge area to the staircase. I knew what lay in front of me to the West; it was the dining room and the kitchen. I saw enough of the dining room, and the kitchen didn't interest me. I stopped on the third step again, looking down for the dent. It might not have been from a tooth; it could have been from a skull, hitting just so on impact. I shivered and climbed the stairs, pushing the thought from my mind. As I got to the top, I looked left and right; to the right was the way to the Tsar's office. I knew it hung over the far East side and looked out over the driveway and courtyard, much like my room. I decided to go left, towards the West. I had never gone this far before, but as I passed by a doorway, I noticed it was padlocked from the outside. I had no intention of finding out why. I continued down the hall, following the large floor runner to the end. Another door lay beside me, no padlock this time. At the end of the hall was a large, rounded window. The light shone brightly onto the room door handle, the silver reflecting into my eyes. I put my hand over the handle and twisted it. To my surprise, it wasn't locked. As I opened it, the scent of the room pierced my nose. It was sweet, like perfume, but there was a twinge of smoke and alcohol. It looked like there had been some fight; wine bottles were broken, with dark liquid pooling around them all over the floor. The bed was messy, covers thrown about, and the sheets pilled up in the middle. Books were thrown on the floor, and even one of the windows looked like a hole in it. The soft net curtains blew slightly in the breeze, touching the vase on the console table, turning on its side, flowers and water spilling onto the floor. The flowers were orchids, like the ones I saw in the conservatory, except these were old, dying and withered. I wondered what had happened here and whose room it was when a sudden large thump from beside the bed caught my attention. A body slumped from the pile of sheets onto the floor and let out a groan. Before I knew it, my feet moved on their own, pushing my body forward toward the sounds.

I reached my hand out, and the person below me slapped my hand out of the air. "Don't fucking touch me", they hiccuped, drunk, I thought? From their voice, I couldn't determine whether they were a man or woman, but the slap felt more potent than a feminine one. I got a glance at their face, gaunt and pale, dark locks hanging above their ears; it was Thomas. "Thomas?" I reached out to touch his head again, and he pulled away, leaning on the side of the bed, his back exposed. It was covered in scratch marks and dark red, dried blood.

I covered my mouth with my hand at the state of his body. I could see a bruise forming around his ribs; it was purple on the left side of his body. He looked over his shoulder and smirked, "Like what you see?" He coughed a little, spitting some of his stomach bile on the floor. I found myself wanting to help him up. I pushed the blankets off his body and saw he was naked. His ass, red and tender, like it had been beaten with a bat, was bleeding a bit as he winced at the cold air. He laughed, pulling himself to his knees, on hand on the bed for stability. As he stood, white, thick liquid dripped from his legs. I stood back, my back knocking into the console table below the window. He looked at me, those deep blue eyes, one was bloodshot, pulsating almost. I covered my mouth again and gasped; he was so severely beaten and raped? The thought passed through my mind, but suddenly he spoke, "Don't worry, this is nothin' compar'd to Emmet when he's angry," his accent changed. When we first met, he was proper and seemed well educated, but now. The tone of his voice, the shortened words, it all seemed so southern. I wondered which one was the honest Thomas. "Thomas, can I help at al…" 

"Just fuck off, would ya?" He spat in my direction again, the saliva hitting my shoe. I felt myself becoming angry, but as I watched him stumble to the bathroom, I felt satisfied with his suffering. I shook my head; what was I thinking? How could I be happy that someone was in that state? Ho Ming had left me like that many times before, but I had never seen another in the same situation. I pushed my thoughts aside and rushed to help him, putting his arm around my shoulder to steady him. He scoffed but leant into my body reluctantly. I helped him to the bathroom; it was similar to mine, with a large tub and shower in the corner, but instead of marble, Thomas' was dark wood, like the dining room and lounge. Thomas reached for the bath. I let go and lent him against the side of the tub. I reached out to turn the water on, wondered how hot he wanted it, and I turned to ask, my face slightly looking over my shoulder, "How hot, Thomas?"

"Just fuck off, would ya" I felt Thomas's hand on my neck and my face being shoved against the porcelain of the tub. The plug was at the other end of the tub, and I couldn't pull my shoulders into the bath to reach it. Thomas held the back of my neck, pushing harder into my throat below my ears. He stood over me, splitting my legs apart and putting his knee into my lower back. I was trapped. The water was slowly rising around me, filling my nose and mouth as I gasped for air. It was hot; the rising steam filled my lungs, making them dry. I was coughing and choking on the water and the steam as Thomas only held me tighter. I was going to die here, in this bathtub. I felt my stomach sink, and my thoughts changed to Emmet. I wouldn't see him again and felt a pang of regret in my heart. Would he wait for me again tonight? Please wait for me to answer the phone and sit in his leather chair, exposing myself to him. Would he even know I was dead? I felt my vision getting fuzzy, the same feeling when you stand up too fast, the whole world goes white, and your brain feels like it's resetting in your skull. Every time I tried to free myself, Thomas only dug his knee deeper into my back and held my neck tighter. It was useless to struggle, so I gave up. I dropped my hands down and let my body go limp. If I was to die, I only hope my last thoughts would be of Emmet and his kindness. The water was rising steadily all around my face, warming me like a tender kiss. I opened my mouth one last time, swallowing and gaging simultaneously, the warm water flowing into my lungs. I felt peaceful at that moment, knowing that I could dream and think only of Emmet for the rest of these felting moments. I cast my mind back to his soft caress along my thighs, his soft kisses on my forehead and that small chuckle deep in his throat that only I heard. All of these moments became precious to me, and he would never know how much I only wanted to help him, to be by his side. 

I felt a sudden tug on my shoulders and air rushing into my lungs. My eyes were still closed; I thought it was just my final moments before death. Another blast of air pushed into my lungs, and I began to cough. Water spilled from my mouth, coughing and choking and grasping for something to hold onto. I found my hands on something soft and warm; it felt like a chest. I clung tightly, coughing so hard my body shook in pain as the water that had settled in my lungs was now all over my lap. It was colder now; the spring air filled the room, and shivers ran down my spine. I opened my eyes, looking into Patrick's face. His eyes were wide, almost wild, like an animal. I clung to his chest and caught my breath, had he saved me? I felt my body shake, and his hands wrapped around me, pulling me closer to his chest.

I could hear his heart beating, thumping against my ear. He wrapped his arms around my head, muffling the sounds of yelling and shouting that filled the bathroom. I could hear him barking orders to someone, and a sudden yelp and thud were all I remembered before I blacked out in his lap. I had lapses in consciousness, being carried back to my room, down the long hallway. In those moments, I heard painful thumping, like a hammer pounding a nail, but I didn't know what it was. Was it my brain thumping around in my skull or someone being hit in the estate? When I finally awoke later in the evening, I was in my bed, an IV line attached to my arm.

I felt a twinge of pain when I tried to move my arm. I blinked in the darkness, hoping to see any person ask what had happened, when the door to my room flung open with force. It swung back on its hinge with a thud, hearing the lock click into place as someone entered. I couldn't lift my head to see anyone, but I felt a heavy weight on my feet. Someone sat beside me, reaching gently for my legs and patting them reassuringly. A loud sigh filled the darkness, and I felt myself stir by accident. The person retracted their hand quickly, fearing they may have woken me. I heard the door handle turn, and they left again. The room, soaked in black, felt unfamiliar to me. 

A nurse awed me sometime later, changing my dressing and adjusting my IV bag. She was petite, with mousy blonde hair tied in a ponytail that hung just above her shoulders. She had soft, roses cheeks and pale eyes. She offered me a reassuring smile and a pat on the head, "All is well, sir. I'm just adjusting your drip and changing your clothes."

"My clothes?" My voice was hoarse, croaking out of my throat. 

"Try not to speak; you swallowed a lot of water, and it was so hot, it may have damaged your vocal cords." She was stern, but her tone was kind, like a butterfly landing on a flower. I felt safe with her. She was gentle and kind, unlike the woman I had the misfortune of meeting before, like Scarlett. She was silent as she moved around the room. She pulled the sheets down from my body and began undressing me. I felt my cheeks flush as she pulled my pants and underwear off. I tried to close my legs, trying to hide my body from her, but she only laughed, "Don't fret, you're not my type, and I'm doing this on the Tsar's orders, strictly no funny business" she chuckled, placing clean clothing on me and pulling the blankets back up. I smiled weakly, and she placed a hand on my forehead, "Good, your fever has gone down. I was worried last night because it kept rising,"

"What happened?" 

"Nothing, love, Patrick returned you to your room a few days ago, and I've been looking after you ever since,"

I sat up, the realisation hit me and turned to the nurse, "Where's Thomas?" I coughed, holding my mouth a little as I spoke. The nurse laid me back in the bed, propping my head up with another pillow. "Thomas has gone. After the Tsar found out what happened, he, well, he did what he does…." 

"Did what he does? What do you mean?" She looked away, shy and confused. She shook her head, and her soft smile returned, "You're safe. That's all that matters, sir. Now," she stood, readjusting the covers and turning toward the door, "its time for you to rest a bit more, I'll be back tomorrow morning with a new bag if you need the bathroom in the night just take your IV stand with you and be careful of the line okay?" She glanced at me over her shoulder and winked. I didn't understand that, but I offered a half-hearted smirk in return. And with that, she left me alone in the dimly lit room again. I thought it must have been my bedroom, the familiar scent on the sheets; the table looked the same as the bed, and I stopped, looking at the table. The glass of water from this morning was gone; however, a new note had appeared. I reached over, sure not to tangle my IV line around itself and grasped the note. I had hoped it was from Emmet, but as I began reading, my stomach turned. 

I'm sure you'll have many questions, but I won't answer any.
The stupid dog caught me. Well, this is from me, fuck you, Milo.
 I hope the Tsar chews you up and spits you into a gutter. 

I found no comfort or solace in Thomas' letter. It was just empty vitriol. I could wager a guess as to why he tried to kill me; that was obvious. But my only thought, the only question I had, was about his condition and who put him through that. It couldn't have been Emmet, and he was in Europe. I couldn't bear to think Emmet sent someone to do that to him?

Was it self-inflicted? Did Thomas want that?

I should have never opened that door.

Exploring the estate was a mistake.

End XI