Love Is Not A Fiction

Chapter 4

I don't think I heard his words. Or misheard.

What?

- Sorry what? she asked, looking into cold eyes in amazement.

“Show me your shoulder, Mistress Martin,” he repeated calmly. - Looking through the newspapers, I noticed in the photographs that you have a stain on your left shoulder. I need to see him. I won’t ask for anything else,” Cole added, looking at me inquisitively, his eyes returning to my hand every now and then. “It didn’t appear at birth, am I right?”

To say that I was surprised is to say nothing. How could he even guess that this spot had appeared relatively recently? And what did it matter? I wanted to turn around and rush away from the strange request and from the person who voiced it. But curiosity and the hope that I would get an explanation regarding the appearance of this muck on my hand outweighed. After a short internal struggle, I agreed. This strange spot also bothered me.

- Yes, that's right. Only sooner. At any moment, my father can return, and his blow will be enough if he sees us doing such an unsightly occupation and draws hasty conclusions, ”I said quickly and, just in case, added:“ If you allow yourself too much, I will scream.

“You have nothing to worry about, Mistress Martin.

It seemed to me otherwise, but I already agreed. Well. With trembling fingers, I hurriedly unbuttoned the top buttons of my dress, which I could reach. Only this was not enough. The man next to him, who had been patient until now, visibly stiffened.

"I'll help," he finally said.

It sounded a bit forced, and I did not immediately understand why. I held my hair back, letting the man touch my back. She bit her lip in excitement and the warmth of his hands. Everything was so strange, from the visit of this man to what we were doing now. Somewhere inside, fear swirled, ready to paralyze the body at any moment, but so far I managed to restrain it, hoping that I was at home and my parents were nearby. Nothing bad should happen to me.

Slippery little buttons stubbornly jumped out of Mr. Erton's fingers and did not give in at all. He pulled off his gloves with difficulty after the first failed attempt. I barely held back a nervous sigh as I turned around. Cole's hands were covered in fresh skin burns. I don't confuse them with anything. As a child, the maid spilled boiling water on her feet and a week later, when the blisters burst, the same thin skin formed.

- What happened to you? I asked carefully, holding the top of my dress.

“It's too long a story. If you become my wife, perhaps I will tell about it.

If I become ... I won’t be surprised if my mother is already freeing my little room from my things and has prepared a handkerchief to wave it goodbye. I exaggerated terribly, but it was strangely reassuring. Anger is easier to live with than despair. Much easier. The main thing is not to dissolve in it. The main thing is not to go crazy.

Mr. Erton unbuttoned a few more buttons before it was possible to expose his arm, pulling the tight, tight fabric up to the elbow. I held my breath again as hot fingers touched my skin.

"That's what I thought," Cole said tensely.

How exactly he thought, I did not know, but I decided to explain.

“It appeared three months ago, on the day that photograph was taken,” I said.

“Yes, I understand,” he said thoughtfully.

The man quickly returned the sleeve to its place. Finished with the collar and pulled on the gloves, wincing a little. I do not know why, but these physical defects did not bother me. The main thing is that a person does not have rot inside. This worried me the most.

I stepped to the side, looked at the dull landscape outside the window. Now I often feel like everything is faded. And I remember that day again. More precisely, a fragment. A blurry, too bright, eye-twitching ornament on the walls, which always flashed first in the memory. My horror that seized consciousness and fettered movements, tears covered my eyes and my back was naked in front of the photographer and the crowd of people. And also the man in front of me who, with a snap of his fingers, destroyed my quiet life. My body tensed, my hands clenched into fists in anger. Hate him!

“Hush, hush,” I suddenly heard a male voice, bringing me back to reality, and turned around. - I can help. I came to this city not just like that, but for you. I will help your family and you will help me. Agreed?

I looked at Cole closely. Who is he and why does he need me? I had no idea what he meant. What help can I have? I don't understand anything.

Whoever did this to me probably didn't even remember my name. Therefore, if Mr. Erton planned to influence him through me, then he will not succeed. It seems that, having noticed my wary look, the interlocutor understood everything.

— Amy. You just need to agree. For your own good. I understand that for now all this may seem crazy to you, but believe me, I am not trying to deceive you or somehow outwit you in order to use it for some dubious purposes, ”Cole said, not taking his bright eyes off me. - Worried? he asked, and pointed to his shoulder.

- Yes. It hurts sometimes,” I agreed, finding no point in denying it.

How strange it all is. I wanted to ask the man, find out everything he knew, and understand his motives, but my father entered the dining room and, not too pleased, invited everyone to the table.