The Poison Morality (32 page)

Oliver felt Sophie get heavier and heavier as she relaxed until she softly snored and he smoothly laid her back on a pillow, propped up on one elbow, he watched her sleep.  There wasn’t the restless tossing and turning, just the softness of a deep sleep.

The fear of what tomorrow might be intruded on his happy thoughts.  What if it was like last time, when she snuck out and didn’t see him for a while only to come back around without so much as mentioning it?  He had forgotten that she never actually said that she loved him back but Sophie was better at communicating through expression and gestures and her willingness was the best gesture of all.

Instinctively she came to his flat even in anger, instinctively she was afraid to be loved, instinctively she knew when he said he did love her it was true, and instinctively she allowed him access to her past revealing her soul and fears as well as wishes and hopes.  Instinctively her body responded to his touch and his love.

***

The next morning, Oliver shifted a sleeping Sophie off his chest and went to the loo.  He was determined to be awake before her in the event that she would try to sneak out again.  Thinking breakfast but also thinking, naked Sophie in his bed, he abandoned breakfast altogether for the time being.

But when he got back to the bedroom she was awake, smiling and his fear that she would leave subsided.  When he entered, she pulled the sheet up around her.

“Do you remember last night,” he walked naked back to the bed and kissed her temple.

“Yes,” her face turned red.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay.” 

He relaxed and smiled at her, “Then I can make breakfast without you escaping?”

“Yes, feed me please, I’m famished.”

“For food,” he teased.

Sophie rolled her eyes and giggled, “Yes for food.”

“Alright then.” 

After breakfast they walked through St. James Park, only stopping long enough to watching the large pelicans on their perch.  The flowers had already bloomed and the sun drifted in and out from behind the clouds, the breeze warm.  Oliver wanted to hold her hand but even the smallest gesture for her might be more than she could handle but as soon as he abandoned the thought, she slid her hand in his, sipping her tea with the other.

They walked towards the crowds gathering for the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace.  Locals and tourists alike enjoyed the parade.  Oliver had seen it too many times to count but Sophie never had.  There was more times when there was a smile on her face than not now since she let Mariella go and Mona had made her jealous and he made love to her again.

They spent the day together going around London, bypassing the crowds of tourists as much as possible and despite the cold water; they dipped their toes in the water of the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fountain and lingered in several areas of Hyde Park until dusk hovered. 

“Are you coming home with me tonight,” Oliver asked, his thumb caressing the back of her hand.

“I have to go to my flat for a while.”

He was disappointed but knew she would come around to staying with him full time once the need to poison was also out of her system.  “Of course.  Come over Thursday,” he moved the hair off her shoulder, nuzzling her neck, “and we can drink wine, eat good food, and make love all,” he kissed her cheek, “night,” he kissed her nose, “long,” he kissed her mouth, oblivious to who might be looking, watching, or spying.

He started to pull away but she pulled him back to her, “You’re working until then,” she seemed a little disappointed and he was really hoping this was not the beginning of the end.

“Yes,” he sipped his coffee waiting for the inevitable complaint but what she said instead made him feel elated.

“Can I come over anyway, while you’re out?”

“Of course you can,” he chuckled, “that’s why you have a key you silly girl,” he kissed her the top of her head.

***

Back at her flat, it felt like the wrong place to be when what she wanted was Oliver but she was not prepared to give up this part of her.  She painted, she read, she slept, waited to see if an envelope came but it didn’t.  The days passed too slowly, she didn’t sleep much only catching catnaps here or there.

On Wednesday, she fondled the key to his flat.  She didn’t need a reason to go there but she was hesitant.  He was working anyway, what would his flat mean to her if he wasn’t in it?  No need to be there, not wanting to be in her flat, she seemed a little lost suddenly.  She made a cuppa and watched telly until she passed out on the sofa, waiting for Thursday.

When Thursday came, she used the key to get in.  He wasn’t there and she was glad.  Stripped, she lay on the plush bedding, remembering what he did for her, how he touched her and her hands traced where his lips had been between her legs and her fingers moved as his tongue did and the sweet sensations made her cry out.  It was nice, she decided but not quite the same. 

She heard him come in the door and she called to him.  Unloading his shopping he found her under the covers but obviously naked on his bed. 

He could tell by her movements and relaxed smile what she had done but he asked, “Did you just do what I think you did?”  Sitting on the side of the bed, he took her right hand and sucked her fingers, answering his own question, he could taste her.  Dinner would have to wait, he would have dessert first.

***

Oliver made breakfast and they sat at the table in his kitchen, talking and laughing, when there was a knock at the door.  Confused, Oliver stood up and answered.  Sophie heard a familiar voice say, “This is for Sophie, tell her Owen says hi.”

“Here,” Oliver handed her the envelope.  “Owen says hi.”  There was no name on it just a plain letter envelope.  Cautiously she opened it.  Oliver wanted to throw it away because she had a worried look again. 

When she pulled the paper out, a photo dropped out.  The letter was written in script and said:  Dear Sophie, it is time we reunite.  Please meet me here, as I know you are familiar with the location, tomorrow at dusk.  There is a gift waiting for you.  With love, Sydney.

Sophie picked up the photo, Oliver waited patiently, her expression didn’t change but she handed him the letter and stared at the photo.  She turned it so he could see.  “It’s the house I grew up in.”  At first she barely recognized it; it obviously had long since been abandoned.

“I’m going with you this time.  I’ll tell them when I go in tonight I won’t be in tomorrow.”

Sophie took a deep breath and slowly let it out, “Agreed but how does she know about this house Oliver?  She didn’t live there?”

Sipping his tea he answered, “Seems she has made it her business to know about you while staying incognito.”  Sophie could tell he was annoyed but he at least tried to hide it for her sake but he went over and chose the music, slightly fast, slightly loud and angry so she knew.

The house was an abandoned shell of bricks covered in earth’s vegetation and the front reclaimed by tall grass and shrubs.  Once a nice
neighbourhood with seemingly happy families, it was now forsaken and vacant, a testament to how life really was.  Sophie supposed her family wasn’t the only one with its delusions of grandeur and bliss, all for show while behind closed doors the most appalling things were happening.

Oliver stood behind her.  She could feel his presence and it was comforting since she wasn’t sure what to feel otherwise.  The only noise was the trains in the distance and the wind’s sharp howl as it blew briskly through hollowed walls and dilapidated structures.  She stared at the house where her innocence was stolen.  It was dark except for light shining brightly through a basement window.

It was a mystery why Sydney would want to meet here, although everything about Sydney was a mystery but of all the places to meet this was the most peculiar since she never lived here.  Only Sophie and her mother moved in with her stepfather.  How could she know?  Why here?  Why now?

Cautiously they approached the front of the house and found the door slightly ajar as Sophie opened it and stepped inside the threshold, the light filtering up the stairs from the kitchen below.  The smell of damp and earth was in the air with an underlying smell of….flowers, tulips, she thought but she didn’t know that tulips had a distinctive smell. 

She stood for a minute letting her eyes adjust to the light coming from downstairs.  Taking Oliver’s hand she walked blindly towards the light leading him guardedly not knowing what she will find down below.  She remembered her way even in the dark.

Anticipation grew at the thought of meeting a long, lost sister, a twin.  Her chest constricted and she could hardly breathe, she was what could only be described as excited.  Half a dozen stairs down and she stopped abruptly placing a hand on Oliver’s chest to stop him.  Muffled groaning and commotion exploded from the interior of the kitchen.  Proceeding on the creaking steps, the sound was getting louder and more desperate.  The lights flickered from the multitude of candles that lined the kitchen and counter tops.

With his back facing them, a man bound to a chair in the middle of the kitchen with his hands tied behind his back.  In front of him, on the middle island counter sat a gun, teasing him, he could reach it if only he was free.   He struggled and pulled on his restraints trying to turn his head to see who was there.

Confusion clouded Sophie’s mind as she was compelled to keep going and Oliver’s arm slipped around her trying to pull her back up the steps.  Sophie pulled forward, resisting Oliver and he had no choice but to follow her.  At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and looked around for anyone else who might be lurking.  She expected to see Sydney but instead, this was the scene she found and yet she felt she was not in danger.

“Let’s get out of here,” Oliver whispered in her ear.  But she took his hand from around her waist and walked around to face the man in the chair.  Oliver could see her eyes widen in disbelief and familiarity.  She went pale and her chest heaved.  Her heart sank and she felt lightheaded.  It felt like someone had punched her in the stomach and she couldn’t catch her breath.  Punched her in the stomach like…

“Who is it, Sophie?”

“Declan,” it came out a gasp.

Oliver looked beyond the man to see Sophie’s reaction.  Her mouth hung open as if she was going to say something and her head nodded in disbelief.  Oliver rushed forward to stand behind Sophie and looked down at the man. 

“You,” his voice muffled from the gag, the word however was understood but he was glaring at Oliver not Sophie. Declan’s dark eyes were wide and then confused, recognition, and surprise all flashed when Oliver appeared behind Sophie.  He attempted to leap towards them despite his bondage.  Startled, Sophie jumped back and Oliver steadied her, immediately forgetting to question if Declan recognized him when his focus returned on Sophie.  Declan’s chest rose and fell with heavy breath and he settled back against the chair knowing the futility of what he had tried.

“Sydney!”  Sophie yelled but nothing was heard, no sounds, except the wind outside.  The candles flickered more from the drafts that whistled through the cracks in the window.  “I’m going to lower your gag but if you yell or scream I will put it back on.  Understand?”  Sophie said, her voice trembling.

The man nodded in acknowledgment and with shaking hand she slowly reached forward and pinched the fabric where it puckered to pull it down but the fabric was too tight. It pulled the corners of his mouth back and exposed his teeth.  It made him look like an angry dog ready to attack.  Frustrated she tried again as he looked hatefully at her, but she couldn’t bear to touch him.  Oliver reached over and slid a finger between his cheek and the fabric and pulled it past his chin.

“Untie me!” He growled through clenched teeth.

“Why are you here?  Where is Sydney?”

“Who the hell is Sydney?  You did this bitch,” he was looking up at her, his dark piercing eyes under thick brows.

Sophie and Oliver looked at each other with a knowing glimpse that said the most logical explanation is that it must have been Sydney.  They both looked around for any sign that she was there.

“Where did she go,” Sophie was asking Declan but inspecting the surroundings to keep from looking at him.

“You
are
mad.  You called me here,” Oliver and Sophie stopped and stood in front of him again.  “I want my money and I want to get the hell out of here and we’ll forget everything.”

“You’re talking to the wrong person.  That wasn’t me that was Sydney,” Sophie stood meekly next to Oliver.

“Who the fuck is Sydney?”

“My sister, my twin sister.”

“You don’t have a twin, you don’t have
any
siblings.”

Oliver and Sophie looked at each other; it was obvious he knew nothing about her either.  Mariella had kept Sydney a well-kept secret.

“What money are you talking about?”  Oliver spoke up.

“The money she owes me,” he said acknowledging Oliver and then his voice became quiet and vindictive and he turned his attention back to Sophie.  “We can skip the sex; I’m not really in the mood now anyway.”

Sophie shuddered and looked disgusted, “She….told you she would have sex with you?”

He chuckled, “Don’t want him to know you’ve been a naughty girl, do you,” he asked, nodding towards Oliver, the corner of his mouth tilted up on the left side slyly.  He spoke to Oliver, “She told me to meet her here to give me the money and a fuck and when I came to the door, she answered in her underwear,” his grin dropped and he became angry again, “and the cheeky bitch was all over me, kissing me and had her hand down my trousers.  Next thing I know, she drugged me and now I’m tied to a bloody chair!”

“You’re making this up.  I would never touch you!  She would never touch you.”  Oliver took her hand, his thumb stoking her palm.  This was his way of telling her to calm down or trying to do it for her.

“Not even to lure me here?”

“Why would I want you anywhere,” her voice was low and shaky.

“You tell me.  I don’t know any Sydney.”

“She’s my sister!”

“You don’t have a sister!”

“Before you came into our lives yes I did.”

“It was you,” he shook the chair, his eyes narrowed, “unless you both have a scar on the left side.”  She realized she was gripping Oliver’s hand so she released it.

Sophie’s mind started to cloud.  Nothing was making any sense.  She felt dizzy, nauseous, wanting to punch him but not wanting to touch him.

“Grew a nice pair of tits on you,” he continued for Oliver’s benefit, “you’ve become a good looking woman but you taste just like I remembered, sweet,” he said, grinning at her.  He licked his lips as he remembered.

“Shut up!” Sophie watched him look her up and down.  Her stomach was turning, her mind went hazy and as she closed her eyes it felt like she was standing in another part of the room.

“Sophie, he’s just trying to get to you.  Don’t let him get to you.”  But Oliver’s voice was fading until she couldn’t hear him anymore.  It felt like she was floating or the floor disappeared from under her feet and all she wanted was to feel safe again.  Her eyes closed, her hands covering her ears, just the sound of his voice was enough, it didn’t matter what he was saying.

Oliver watched as the confrontation was unfolding between Sophie and Declan.  He knew Sophie didn’t tie Declan to a chair so how did he know about the scar?  He didn’t know what to do but let Sophie ask what she needed to ask but Declan looked at her as if she was prey.  Oliver started to step in when Sophie reached with her left hand and grabbed the gun off the table, pointing it confidently at Declan, Oliver retreating a few steps away from her.

“Damn it Declan. 
I’m
not supposed to be here,” she said, aiming it at Declan’s chest.  Oliver sensed the change in her character but it was more than that.  Her head tilted down, her arm outstretched clutching the gun in her left, and Sophie is right handed, stiff, her back straight.

She put her foot on the chair between Declan’s knees and leaned in close to him.  “You just couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut could you?”  She grabbed his face firmly squeezing his cheeks and looking him in the eye.  It was evident Declan was surprised by the change in her also, unmistakably a different person altogether, seriously aiming a gun at him.  “Oh, hold on…who took your gag off?”

Oliver, mesmerized, yet confounded, walked around cautiously behind Declan to get a good look at the woman with the gun.  There was a confidence in her that Sophie lacked and her face was a complete blank, expressing only when she wanted to.  Not like Sophie at all, who couldn’t have a thought without a corresponding expression betraying her.  Her head snapped up, looking at Oliver over Declan’s head and he asked quietly, “Who… are… you?”

Pushing herself up right with the foot on Declan’s chair, nearly knocking it over, a sideways grin crept across her face as she looked at Oliver appreciatively up and down exactly the way Declan looked at Sophie.

“Ah, Oliver, I didn’t see you there,” she strutted over to him, dropping the gun to her side.  He studied her face and she remained still so he could do so. “I’m Sydney,” unlike Sophie, her voice and facial expressions or lack of them gave nothing away.  “Can I call you Ollie?”

There were a few moments when Oliver was trying to grasp what was happening, her words reaching his ears but not his mind.  She looked at him curiously, her head tilted slightly, waiting for an answer and eventually what she said dawned on him.
“I prefer you didn’t,” his mind was recovering.

“Could Sophie?”

“She wouldn’t.  You’re…Sydney?  How ….?”  He was flummoxed at what he was witnessing, surely there were signs, warnings.  “Where’s the real one; the little girl in the photo?”

“Died a little girl, forever young.  Car accident, shortly after the photo was taken.”  It was a statement of fact, no emotion behind it.  Oliver swallowed hard, Mariella yearning for the
favourite
child, Sydney, died in a car accident.

“So it was you that left the photo at Sophie’s flat, why?”  Oliver could appreciate that he needed to be cautious with this stranger holding a gun.  She was the combustible alternate to Sophie’s passive, withdrawn personality.

“I couldn’t exactly show up at her doorstep face to face could I,” turning away from him she walked over in front of Declan, sitting on a stool at the counter island, placing the gun on it.  “His gun by the way, not mine,” reaching over she put the gag back in Declan’s mouth, he turned his head back and forth, yelling at her to let him go but his protests fell on deaf ears.

“And you did this?”  Oliver’s hand swept through the air, indicating the room with its burning candles, plants on the counter next to what looked like lab equipment, a mysterious hat box that seemed totally out of place and also vaguely familiar, and Declan tied to a chair.  “Sophie’s ‘gift’?”

“For Sophie, everything for Sophie,” she answered quietly, absent mindedly clicking the safety on and off on the gun.  Oliver moved back to stand to the right of her, where he was before but hovering back slightly.

“What will Sophie get out of this?”

Sydney breathed deeply, closing her eyes, head tilted back, then opening her eyes turning to Oliver she answered, “Quiet.”  Oliver looked perplexed.  “She told you what they did, did she?”

“Declan and Mariella?”  Oliver frowned, disappointed in himself for befriending Mariella.  Truth was if he had never known, he would have still liked her to the end.

Nodding her head, she corrected, “Declan and the other men, his friends,” she stated.  Oliver’s eyes grew wide giving the answer to her question.  “Oh, that’s right,” she clicked her tongue, “I forgot,” she stood up again, circling Declan like a shark, “she doesn’t remember because that’s about the time Sophie split apart and it happened to me.”  She walked briskly behind the chair and brought the gun to Declan’s temple.  The gag prevented him from crying out but his breath quickened, breathing heavy through his mouth and nose, saliva trickled down his chin where the gag pulled tight into his mouth.