Under My Skin

41 | victim or perpetrator

Chapter fourty-one:

Lydia arose to the cosmic feel of the golden threads of morning light trembling against her cheeks. Like every morning that had come before it that week, she'd woken up to a desolate bed; devoid of Reid.

A sigh fled from between tired lips as she reached for the phone ensconced between her plump over-fluffed pillows, instinctively tapping his number from her contact list.

She felt warm relief wash over her as she identified the familiar chiming ringtone tolling from the bathroom next door. She found solace in the fact that Reid had remained home today and hadn't resorted to another fruitless and frankly desperate attempt at earning Ria's forgiveness after she had indefinitely departed from the Aslan household.

Her legs tumbled from the bed, toes immediately greeted by the furriness that her night slippers offered. She let out a clangorous yawn; it was, after all, only five a.m. in the morning. The one silver lining that Reid's early absences offered was the opportunity to continue her 'no makeup' makeup facade, which she'd perfected most of their relationship. But, alas, now that the dreaded day had come around, even Lydia didn't have the strength to maintain appearances.

She didn't fritter as she barged into the bathroom. Greeted by the sight of Reid's hand clasped around a razer as he zig-zagged it across his shaving-cream-drenched face.

"What are you getting ready for?" Lydia quizzed, silently praying that his response wasn't the one she was half-expecting. She positioned her arms around his waist from behind him, observing their reflections in the mirror. There was little point in embracing him from the front these days, as he seldom appeared to look at her anymore. He was ashamed, struggling, and mourning, but he'd never use those terms.

"The court sentencing."

Lydia sighed, slackening her hold around him. "I thought we agreed you weren't going to go."

"You said that. I didn't agree to anything." He stated, grabbing a towel from the holder and using it to sweep away the creamy-white residue that was falling from his chin onto the tiled floor.

"Reid, she's going down for a long time," Lydia uttered the obvious. "You know that, I know that, everybody knows that. Why put yourself through the unnecessary pain of hearing some hoity-toity judge tell you what you already know?"

He settled the razor upon the edge of the sink basin as though he didn't trust himself to engage in a conversation with a sharp object in tow. "She's still my mum. I should be there. And even if I know that, I also know that she shouldn't be going down for this. Today should be my sentencing. So, why should I not be there for fear of the pain it'll cause me? I deserve to feel that pain. I deserve to suffer for it." He replied coolly, leaving Lydia feeling unsettled.

For when she gazed upon him, all she saw was plain sadness. Throughout their relationship, she'd seen him content, furious, jealous and even afraid. But sad? That was an emotion she didn't feel she could manage. But perhaps the most dispiriting thing was that she didn't think she could fix it. The only people who could fix it were either six feet under, imprisoned or refusing to engage with him.

"Reid—"

"I knew, Lyd." He whispered, stabilising himself against the edge of the bath basin, towel still clasped in hand as though he needed something -anything to distract him from the words being unleashed.

"Knew what?" She stammered in response.

"I think I always knew Blaine wasn't driving. I knew it was me because it was my first thought when I woke up the next morning. I remembered taking the drugs with Indiya. I remembered being in that driver's seat. I remembered. I might have been told it wasn't true, but I still think I knew."