Chapter Twelve

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Christian didn't go back to work for a week and for that whole week, I didn't speak to Thomas. The morning that I woke to find Christian gone and off to work, I was light headed and nauseous. But I still had work to do so I forced myself out of bed. 

When I got downstairs, I saw that the giant whole in the ceiling was all patched up and a new chandelier was hanging there. I wondered how I'd missed the men coming in regularly. But I guess I'd been so glad to spend my time with my husband that I hadn't cared. 

My head was pounding and, by the time I'd reached the kitchen, I was worried I was going to faint. I sank into a chair and pressed the back of my hand to my forehead, feeling for a fever. Bile rose in my throat, burning my esophagus and I reached for the nearest object for me to vomit into. 

I didn't hear Thomas come in the kitchen but he did and pulled my hair back from my face until I had finished throwing up in the copper pot. He passed me a rag and I swiped it over my mouth, swallowing down the last of the bile. 

"You're sick," Thomas said, his voice soft and laced with concern. 

I rolled my eyes and looked up at him. "I'll be fine. It'll pass. So you can go back to hiding in your attic and leaving me alone."

Thomas looked hurt at first and then sighed and gripped my arm, helping me to my feet. "You need to get some rest."

"You don't need to worry about me. I just woke up, anyway, and I've got to clean up the house."

"YouI've got to listen to me," Thomas argued, gripping my shoulders and facing me. Worry lines creased his forehead and his eyes were wide. "I know you love him and I know that you believe he loves you but he doesn't. This last week, I've watched him. I know what he's planning now and--" 

I pushed Thomas away, tears stinging my eyes. "Why are you doing this?" I cried. "Why do you insist that he's doing something wrong? Are you jealous, is that it?"

 Thomas shook his head and opened his mouth but I was done with whatever he had to say to me. 

"Are you so lonely and jealous of my happiness that you have to ruin everything?" I pushed past him and stormed towards the stairs, anywhere away from Thomas. 

The walls started spinning around me and I collapsed against the wall, trying to hold myself up as my legs gave out beneath me.

But, of course, Thomas was there, scooping me into his arms and keeping me from collapsing on the floor. 

* * * * * * * * * * 

It was dark when I woke up again with a cold wash cloth on my forehead. It took me a minute to realize where I was until I noticed the red curtains pulled around the bed I was in and the dark blankets pulled up to my chin. I was in Thomas's room. 

I lifted the rag from my face and made to sit up, the bed aching beneath me. 

"You're awake," Thomas said from behind the curtain. He moved the curtain aside and sat on the edge of my bed, a bowl of soup in his hands. "You have a fever and you threw up again."

"I don't remember throwing up again."

"I'm guessing you also don't remember coughing up blood and calling out for your husband, then?"

I sat up. "Where is Christian?" My head spun and Thomas pressed against my shoulder, forcing me to lay back down. 

"He's still at work. It's only midday, Rose. And I was right about you needing rest. You also need to eat something." 

"I'm not hungry," I protested, the smell of soup making me nauseous all over again.

"You vomited twice, Rose," Thomas insisted. "You need to put something in your belly." He stopped and sat back,  looking at me with eyes that showed he had just realised something. "Oh."

"Stop looking at me like that," I complained. 

"Have you and Christian...well you're married and I'm assuming you've consummated that marriage?"

My face flushed and I looked down at the blankets on my body. "That's really none of your business, now is it?"

"Rose, this is just as embarrassing for me as it is for you--"

"I highly doubt that," I grumbled.

"--but I need you to answer my questions. When Lucille and I were poisoning those women, they didn't typically get nauseous. They coughed up blood and became very weak, but very rarely did they throw up. Have you been feeling very sick this last week?"

I thought back, trying to recall the last week that I'd spent with my husband, and then stopped. "Why does it matter? Why does any of it matter? How you killed those girls? If Christian and I have..."

"I think you're pregnant, Rose," Thomas shouted, interrupting my rambling. 

I blinked. He thought I was...pregnant? It wasn't like it was totally impossible or anything but, so soon? "I've felt sick all week," I finally said, my voice quiet. "I vomited yesterday morning as well."

Thomas sighed, getting to his feet and running his hands through his hair. "I was afraid of this."

"You're afraid?" I shouted, forcing myself to sit up and stay sitting. "Christian and I can't afford a baby right now. And, although he believes this house has potential, I'm not eager to raise a child in it. There are far too many hazards here. I would have to move back in with my parents. And you're afraid?

"Thomas, I had a cousin about my age who died giving birth to her first child. What if I were to die and leave my child motherless? What would Christian do? He's still got to work to provide for himself and our child and I wouldn't be there for either of them."

Thomas gripped my face in his hands. "I know. I know, Rose, that the possibilities are endless and horrible. But that's not what I meant. Christian is poisoning you and, for the sake of your baby, you've got to leave."



THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO @serinasparkly WHO I PROMISED WOULD GET AN UPDATE BY THE NEW YEAR. HERE IT IS! AND HAPPY NEW YEAR! 

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