Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Forty-Five:

I feel my paranoia getting the best of me. Eyes watching me at all times. Unable to relax. My body constantly tense. I'm second-guessing myself, and it makes me angry that Ellis has caused me to do so.

My watery eyes stare blankly at the bubbles on the surface of my freshly poured glass of blood-red wine. Watching as they pop slowly. I swirl around the liquid, then bring it to my lips and bask in the familiar taste as it fills my mouth, staining my gums and teeth. I swirl it around in my mouth, gathering all the flavors before swallowing it down like I'm some professional wine drinker and not like I only drink it in hopes of getting drunk in a more proper way. Drinking wine makes me feel less like an alcoholic. It makes me feel more civilized. I'm not as trashy as other alcoholics who drink straight from vodka bottles and allow cheap booze to destroy their livers.

I'm a more classy alcoholic. If I can even call myself that. Absently, I begin picking at the skin around my nail and listen to every noise in the guest house. Every creak, every moan. Waiting for Millie to jump out of one of the closets and expose herself. I imagine her hair slicked back so tightly that it pulls her entire face back. I think of her standing at the end of the bed, watching me sleep for who knows how long, and wondering what she thought in those moments. Did she want to kill me? Did she imagine lunging on the bed and wrapping her long, frail fingers around my neck until the life drained from my eyes?

She had every opportunity, and she didn't take it. How long has she known that I've been fucking her husband?

There's a storm approaching outside. Trees whipping in the breeze. Wind howling against the windows. I glance out the window and see raindrops beginning to splatter on the pool water. The summer ending with heavy showers.

I suspect my time here is almost over. That Millie will come back home and demand that I leave. Would Ellis choose me over her? Would he defend me?

Finishing the glass of wine, I pour myself another one before moving into my bathroom, where I open the medicine cabinet and pop a Xanax, then run myself a bath. Submerging myself into the warm water, some spills out onto the floor, and I lean my head back against the wall of the bathtub. Closing my eyes, I imagine sinking below the water. Holding myself under there until I can't breathe. Until my mouth opens and I inhale a lungful of water. My own filthy water.

Ellis would eventually come looking for me and find me dead in the bath, a cracked glass of spilled wine on the floor, my hand hanging over the edge. He'd be shocked, but I find it hard to imagine him crying over my death. Much less grieving for too long. It would be more of an inconvenience. An annoyance on his end and Millie's. They'd try to keep the neighbors from finding out, and in a few weeks, a new nanny would be hired. Someone new to stroke Ellis's ego.

I slip under the water, and the sound of my thoughts is overpowering. I may love Ellis; does that mean he loves me back? I might not even care if he does or not. I still want him. I still need him.

There's a banging sound, and I believe it's just the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. But it continues, and it's distant, and I realize it's not me at all. I raise my head above the water and gasp for breath. The pounding is coming from the front door. Stepping out of the tub, I wrap a towel around myself, ring out my wet hair, and pad over to the door, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind me.

When I open the door, I'm overly enthusiastic about seeing Ellis before me. Despite the pull of his eyebrows, which are scrunched in a frustrated sort of way that is both sexy and intimidating. And despite the clump of photos that are clutched in his right hand, dangling by his side.

"Hi." I say, and his eyes hold onto mine before he moves past me, inviting himself in.

"The fuck are these, Reign?" He asks and slaps the photos onto the countertop.