you want it darker | michael langdon

chapter nine; river of tears.

"Y-you... you said my name." He swallowed thickly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence that had fallen in the aftermath of her outburst.

She merely nodded in response, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious around him again.

They were both still naked, though it was too dimly lit for either to see each other as many of the candles were now extinguished.

"Do you know your name?" Michael asked, tentatively.

She scoffed. "Primrose."

"I mean your last name." He impatiently retorted.

"It's Goode." She stood up within the circle with sudden defiance. "Primrose Goode."

"I can explain everything." He tried to place a comforting hand on her arm and was saddened to see her flinch.

"It's you... you're the leader... you murdered my parents." Primrose was now pacing around the room, the cogs turning in her mind, trying to process all the old and new information that was now rolling around her brain at a thousand miles per hour. She picked up her torn night dress and clumsily wrapped it around her body for some form of modesty.

"Please..." He reached out to touch her dress but she backed away, suspiciously. "Let me."

Hesitantly, she obliged. He ran his hands over the torn fabric and with his magic he willed the fibers back together.

"There," He said. "Good as new."

And then, with very little warning, she slapped him across the face.

Hard.

"I gave myself to you, body and mind and soul." She seethed. "And you accepted me with blood-stained hands." 

"Hey, let's get something straight here." He fired back as he conjured his clothes out of thin air. "You threw yourself at me. I tried to keep you away, even though it was killing me inside."

"I tried embracing it, the darkness within, and I ended up alone, with everyone I love dead. I just wanted to hide, to protect people from it, to cut it out like the cancerous tumour it is."

"I don't care! I've bedded my mother's killer!" Hot, angry tears were now falling freely from her eyes, and it was slowly destroying Michael to see her so upset, knowing that he was the reason why.

"That woman was not your mother, Cordelia was." Michael gripped her shoulders firmly, trying to keep her grounded as she became overwhelmed with memories and emotion.

"Okay, great. Anything else I should know?" She bitterly replied.

"You were pregnant." He spoke quietly and sadly.

"W-...what?"

"When you died," he cleared his throat. "You were pregnant with our child."

"Who am I?" She sobbed, collapsing into herself.

Michael caught her just before she fell and gathered her into his arms.

"You're Primrose, you're my Primrose." He cooed, stroking her hair gently to calm her down.

"Why did you do this..." She wept. "Why keep me underground all these years... alone and lost... fumbling for answers in the dark..."

"I was there, Primrose. I watched you grow like a wildflower among the weeds. When we spot a pretty flower, sometimes we have the desire to pick it. And that was a selfish desire I shamelessly indulged in. I ripped you out of the earth and then you died. You died because of me."