you want it darker | michael langdon

chapter two; the leader

Primrose observed her reflection in the mirror; on days spent alone, she preferred to wear her hair down naturally, but today she would (unfortunately) be in the presence of company, so the occasion called for something different. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, neatly and beautifully, on her cheeks and lips she wore a light rouge. It was highly important that she should look just like any other level eight survivor; they already disliked her enough, there was no point giving them any more ammunition.

It was best that she should fly under the radar, be average and unnoticed.

And for someone like Primrose Langdon, that was easier said than done.

She got up from her dressing table, and left the safe confines of her bedroom.

Her room was located on level nine, otherwise known as the secret floor. The floor that was off limits to everyone, with the exception of a select few. And Primrose was one of those few.

There was a rumour that Julien had relayed to her over dinner about the secret floor supposedly being home to the king of hell, and his secret princess.

Prim wasn't quite sure what she thought about that.

She reached the end of the candlelit hallway and stepped into the elevator, selecting the button that read 'level eight'.

-

"Ah, there's my favourite girl!"

Primrose's eyes scanned the rows of intricately and elegantly decorated wooden oak tables, until her eyes fell upon the figure of Julien, who was calling her name and waving her over. Smoothing out the skirt of her dress, she went to greet him.

"Come! Sit!" He excitedly exclaimed, motioning to the seat next to him. Sitting down at his side, Julien placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. Primrose awkwardly flashed him a smile.

"It seems like such a long time since we last met, and I only ever seem to see you here in the hall, never anywhere else on level eight." He narrowed his eyes at her, awaiting a response.

Before Prim could make a lame excuse for her absence, a passing servant tripped, seemingly over nothing, sending the steaming hot coffee he was carrying flying, directly into Julien's lap.

Primrose tried to contain her laughter as he exhaled sharply and contorted his face with pain. Julien turned his attention to the unfortunate servant, who, to Prim's sudden displeasure, was the unfortunate Etu.

"Are you blind as well as stupid? Why don't you pay attention to where you're going!" Julien barked; Etu's face began to spasm with the shame.

"Julien, leave him alone. It was an accident." Primrose came to his defence, shooting the poor boy a reassuring smile.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just get out of my sight!"

Etu bowed and nervously apologised, gathering the fallen china from the floor and hurrying away into the kitchen.

"This place is such a shambles, somebody ought to just blow the whole thing up and start from scratch." Julien sulkily dabbed at the damp patch on his crotch with a napkin from the table.

"I believe it was thinking like that which got us into this situation in the first place." Primrose replied.

"It was that brain dead, so called 'leader' that got us into this mess." Julien spoke in a low voice, for fear that someone might hear him. While Julien's opinion was not uncommon, it was still controversial to express it freely. "I mean the guy decimates the earth, promises a new and improved world order, and then just vanishes. They oughta get somebody else in charge."

"Somebody like your father?" Primrose tried to disguise the venom in her voice.

"Perhaps." Julien merely shrugged, indicating he did not notice the malice in her words.

"Besides, he hasn't vanished." Though Primrose had not met her guardian, she still inexplicably felt the need to defend his honor. "He has business at the other ten sanctuaries across the globe."

Julien scoffed. "That's what they want you to believe. My father knows him, and he says he's just a mess."

"Your father used to manufacture sex dolls, forgive me if I don't entirely trust his opinion on our leader." She laughed; Julien's features softened at her playful remark.

"Ah, but at least I had the guts to tell you who my father is! We've been friends for however many years now, and I still don't really know who you are!"

"What's life without a little mystery?" She deflected.

"Speaking of mystery," Julien leaned in closer. "You had any more of those freaky dreams of yours?"

Primrose nodded solemnly. "I... I dreamt about this woman."

"Go on," Julien encouraged her, eagerly; he always seemed to enjoy hearing about her visions.

"She was... she was in labour... she was in so much pain, Julien." Primrose hung her head, sadly.

"Dreaming about moms and childbirth, I wonder what Freud would make of that?" He remarked.

"No, this is serious." She scolded him. "I think... I think it might've been my mother."

Julien looked at her, his face the picture of confusion.

"Let's just say... I don't know a lot about my parents."

Julien snorted. "Join the club. The wealthy elite aren't exactly renowned for their emotional intimacy and warmth."

Primrose huffed and rose from her chair. "Okay, if you're not going to take this seriously..."

Julien grabbed her hand to stop her from leaving.

"I'm sorry," he said, tugging on her arm to get her to sit back down. "If the dream has bothered you this much, then I'll do whatever I can to help. Maybe we can find out some more about your parents... together."

He looked into her eyes, and despite her better judgement, she felt that his gesture was genuine.

"Okay. Let's do it."