Behind The Walls

Chapter 17 : Sing For Me

"We're going to be late."

"Can't you just 'summon' one of your guards to open it?"

"I'm not a wizard."

I was hardly amused. "Call for your father then."

"He's already left." Hugo shrugged.

"Wai- why? Weren't we all going together?"

"Father always takes his own separate wagon. I should break it now, all the guards are probably waiting downstairs; we won't be able to get any help considering how no one knows your room is in the serva-" his voice trailed off to a quieter pitch, "servant quarters."

I sensed repentance in his tone; maybe he didn't want to do this? No. Stop making up excuses for him Adelaide. Why did I even care about his arm- Ok.

He could break it. I was about to give consent to this action when another excused popped up into my mind; I do still care about my door... lame, I know.

"Don't break my door." I calmly decided on saying. He shrugged in defeat, returning to sit on my bed, "I didn't want to go anyways."

I was confused at this statement; why didn't he  want to go? Maybe I was overthinking it. Ever since he set foot in my room today, I couldn't help but to notice how much his mood swinged; it felt abnormal.

I plopped myself into the floor, beside the door. "It's official," he announced, "you love the flo-"

"Well, yes. It was there for me when someone else should have been." I darkly returned, cutting him off for the second time today.

I admit it, I had intentions to make him guilty but he just sat, mindlessly fiddling with his fingers.

He looked calm and lost in his thoughts for a good, silent five minutes until expression of anger awakened on his features.

His head shot up, glaring up the ceiling, "no... No. No-no-no! NO! Stop! Not now~! STOP ARGHH!" His fists, glued to his temples as he vigorously shook his head. I watched in horror, not knowing what to do. "A-Adelaide.."

I answered him with a questioning 'mhm' in response, not able to put together words. "Adelaide, s-sing for me!"

To say I was baffled would be an understatement; why did he want me to sing?

"Sing what?"

"Anything!"

"I don't know how-"

"Just, please!" He pleaded in desperation. Clearing my throat, I began.

He had been panting heavily, sweat beads forming above his brows, my second time seeing him in this state. However, this time his head lay uncomfortably in my lap. I was glad he had calmed down though curiosity was eating me inside; what had just happened? I wanted to ask.

Would it be rude?

My timid self flushed in embarrassment; my mind going back to how I just sang my husband two verses of 'Mary had a little lamb'.

Though it had been only ten minutes ago, I was beginning to become relieved, thinking he wouldn't crack a joke about it. Especially regarding the condition he was in. I looked down, only just realising he was fast asleep.

As I twined my fingers around his dark locks, I took this time to inspect how peaceful he looked sleeping.

No annoying comments. No pushing and shoving me around. No unfunny jokes. I liked him better like this... I liked him? No, of course not. Maybe I felt bad for whatever mentally unstable phase he was facing. I couldn't possibly like a murderer... but could I really blame him?

Maybe he was driven to a position where he had to make such a horrid move. My mind proceeded to make excuses for his sinful actions: he loved his mother, he had a right to kill his brother... No, that was still wrong.

His brother did also hide from him that he wrote letters to Charlotte using his identity... it must've been hard getting through all this trauma maybe I could forgive him just this once?

Everyone makes mistakes... he is my husband after all... although he treated me with such cruelty, is it wrong to like my husband in such a way- "Thank you," a whisper croaked under my chin making me forget all the wrong doing of this creature. "Although your singing was horrible."

I knew that was coming; I wished he was still asleep. I looked down at him grinning; first time appreciating his stupid jokes...

Or maybe it was an actual insult. I didn't care.

He gazed up at me with a returned smile before another one of his mood swings struck: he frowned quickly lifting himself up, off me, giving my shoulder a painful shove as he did so.

Before I had the time to speak upon his actions, his forearms were already barging into my jammed door. The latch fell to the ground leaving a toppled metal sound; I gasped at this random outbreak.

He marched off without a single glance back as tears seeped into the nooks of my eyes not fully falling yet. What had just happened?!