Black Rose

Let slip.

Blake didn't come downstairs again for hours.

The time bore on, and I tried to keep up the pretence of normalcy for Jackson's sake, but it got harder and harder. Every so often, I would glance outside and take note of how the sun moved. I wanted to do something, but there was nothing to do but wait.

At one point, I tried the door to the basement, but to my frustration, he had locked it.

Jackson told me he was hungry, so I made us some sandwiches for lunch. When we finished, he decided he wanted to show me his trains. We spent a solid half-hour with him introducing me to all his trains and then detailing the cool tracks he'd made before. Then he pulled out the box of wooden pieces and grinned at me.

"Wanna help me build another?" He asked.

So, I did.

As we built it up, I thought about the phone call I had overheard. I wondered what Blake was hiding on that ship, and who else was involved.

I didn't know. I still don't.

It's the uncertainty that hurts the most.

Jackson started getting sleepy late in the afternoon, so we left the train track as it was and put him down for a nap. With nothing else to do, I went to the theatre room and watched some TV.

Instinctively, I put on the news, and just let it play, craving connection to the outside world, even if it was only one way. I passively watched story after story, barely taking any of them in. There was a conflict in the middle east, controversy in the capital, an earthquake off the coast of somewhere, protests in Europe. None of it sunk in, but I watched it anyway. I needed it.

Like the times before, I kept waiting for a story about me, but none ever came. It seemed that missing girl Ophelia Alto wasn't relevant anymore. They hadn't had any new developments, so they had all lost interest.

A momentary break, of course. I know that now.

By the time I heard Blake come downstairs again, the sun was dipping over the horizon. I turned off the TV and went out to meet him. He walked across and dropped into a loveseat in the living room. He smiled at me tiredly and patted the cushion beside him. I obediently shuffled over and sat down, feeling tense. He heaved a sigh and gently pulled me towards him, leaning his head against mine and curling his fingers in mine.

"I'm sorry I couldn't spend more time with you today, Rose," He said wistfully. Then, taking on a huskier tone, he whispered, "I hope I can make it up to you tonight."

Ignoring the apparent implication and the way it made my heart sink, I asked as casually as I could, "What was that all about?"

He shrugged. "Just work stuff."

I bit my lip, twisting to look at him. "What kind of work stuff?"

"Nothing that would interest you, my rose," He said, raising an eyebrow. He was telling me to drop it. Knowing I would only get in trouble if I didn't, I let it go.

"Can I go see her now?" I asked instead, changing course. When he stared at me blankly, I added, "Gwen. Can I go see Gwen?"

He rolled his eyes. "Rose, I knew you were talking about Gwen. You needn't clarify."

I felt my cheeks burn and I looked down, quietly asking. "Can I?"

He sighed. "I've already told you, Rose. Gwen is fine. Now stay upstairs and stay out of my business. I don't want you asking again."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and slowly nodded. "Yes, sir."

Jackson must have woken to our talking because we heard the door creak and he came out, a tired grin on his face. "Hey, daddy. Come see the train track Ophelia helped me make!"