Altered

Twenty: Below

Charlotte opened her eyes. The room remained shrouded in darkness, though the slightest, bluish tint of morning rimmed the drawn blinds. Charlotte sat up. She was tangled in her sheets and her head seemed to be pounding. She ran her fingers across her temple and scrunched her eyes together tightly trying to stop the ache. She opened her eyes squinting to see in the gloom, wondering what had woken her so suddenly, when the pounding started again.

It was with a growing sense of dread that Charlotte realised the pounding was coming from her bedroom door. Hastily, she untangled herself from her bedclothes, surprised to find she was still in her clothes she had changed into at the arena after the exhibition had ended. In her exhaustion she hadn’t bothered to change after she had returned from the games. Charlotte fumbled with the lock before clumsily opening the door.

Bennett stood outside the door, fixing his gloves over his long bony fingers. His black eyes met her with glaring contempt, his thin lips twisting into a sinister smile. James was already standing outside his own room, just across the hall from her own, the door left ajar. About his feet lay shards of wood. Charlotte frowned unsure of what they were. James looked furious but as Charlotte met his gaze, his eyes softened, clouding slightly. To Charlotte’s surprise, Matthew Desmarais stood there too, with two of the forgotten. His body was tense and his expression appeared troubled. He was staring at her but seemed to not see her, his gaze out of focus. Charlotte looked back to James who shook his head ever so slightly. She swallowed uneasily, knowing what he meant. He hadn’t got away with it. Elmhirst knew he had taken himself out with Charlotte’s gun. He had controlled her body; he had let her win. Elmhirst was seeking his revenge. Charlotte felt her stomach drop and her head began to spin dangerously, fear gripping her, but she wasn’t going to let them know she was frightened. Fear is what he wants, she recited to herself.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Bennett?” Charlotte smiled, but her eyes turned on the hideous being of Bennett with icy hatred. Before Charlotte knew it Bennett had swung the back of his hand, striking her painfully across her cheek and jaw.

“Charlotte,” James gasped, but his protest was muffled before Charlotte could refocus her thoughts. She had doubled over, her eyes watering and her head swimming. Gently Charlotte shook her head trying to stop the ringing in her ears. Cautiously she straightened up, fearful of another strike but determined to appear resilient.

“Is that all, Mr. Bennett? Surely you could have at least waited until sunrise for that,” she said through gritted teeth. She caught sight of James, restrained by two masked forgotten, before Bennett aimed a second blow at her face. Charlotte stumbled back against the wall, her mouth filling with blood. She spat it unceremoniously onto the carpet, looking at him from beneath her eyelashes with savage hatred.

“That’s enough,” Matt interrupted his voice angry and cold. With deliberate and slow movements Bennett turned to face him expecting an explanation for his interruption.

“Excuse me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and laughing coldly at Matt. “Your daddy isn’t here now, Mr Desmarais. I don’t take my orders from you”.

“Well I suggest you start,” Matt warned, stepping toward Bennett. He looked at Charlotte briefly, as she tried to straighten up, her breathing shallow. “She still has to be presented to the patrons while they are here. Are you going to explain to my father the reason why the two most important products are damaged?” he hissed. Charlotte was taken aback by the bitterness and ferocity of his tone. Nervously she leaned back against the wall, knowing she couldn’t take another strike, not after the exhibition. Bennett despite his size was incredible strong. Carefully, she wiped the blood from her mouth.

Charlotte looked at James again. On closer inspection she could see that he had a deep cut above his eyebrow and he seemed to be leaning into The Forgotten for support, his breathing shallow and laboured. Blood trickled into his eyebrow, so dark it almost looked black. Bennett had roused him first and had been just as lacking in a kind touch. James watched her with concerned eyes, she could see fear there – something she had never seen before. She could feel it seeping from him, tempting her.