You Think I Won't Talk?-Chapter 67 — Recovering, Bonding and Drawings.

Paige served me breakfast, just like last night, on a wooden tray. And joining me, the Duke served himself directly from the wooden cart where everything was brought in.

Forgetting about the Palace’s invitation, we ate breakfast peacefully.

From time to time he would take care of me, serving more food or milk and watch over my demeanour as the food was taken in.

Even after we finished, he stayed for a while, just to be sure that I had no problems with what I have eaten.

Before leaving, Marianne’s Father informed me that a doctor would come in later to take a look at my physical condition. As he stood to leave, he caressed my cheeks and with a bit of hesitation he ended up saying one last thing.

"It’s a shame I have to go but don’t hesitate on calling for me, Marianne. I will come here immediately... If it weren’t because a lot of work has piled up, I would stay for longer... I will come back at lunch and dinner, alright? Try to rest a bit now. You seem tired, sweetie.’

Giving him the characteristic nod, he watched me for a few seconds more, and, as if he had finally convinced himself, he took away his hand from my cheek and walked to the door.

"...Until later, Dear."

Before vanishing behind it, he said the last goodbye and closed the door.

After the visit of the nice doctor, the rest of the day went by with a repeating cycle of me nodding off, reading, eating and trying to hum without succeeding.

As promised, the Duke came at the times he said he would come to visit me. So, at the very least, I could cope with the lethargic feeling my body was going through with the expectation of having a fun conversation with Marianne’s father.

Our body would get energized by his company, so it was truly appreciated to have him come to see us.

What had me a bit worried was that Paul must have known I had woken up, but I never got to see him... when I was wide awake. Having the precedent of his nocturn visit when he left to that other Kingdom and that night at the Palace, I am quite sure he was going to do the same thing this time.

For a few days, things went by just like today. Every two days, I would have a medical examination with Mister Deslys, and The Duke would come every day at every mealtime to eat together and then go back to work right after.

It saddened me when he asked about a visit the Duchess and Theressa did not do. But I wouldn’t tell him the opposite since it would sadden him too.

If I had a reason to tell him, I would, but right now, it does not matter to me if they get exposed in their lies or not. What I have to do now is get back on my feet and regain the bit of health I had when I arrived, and if I surpass it, then even better.

Having the portable canvas right there, waiting to be used, is my greatest motivation right now. I keep imagining when I finally can go to the Castle’s garden and draw some scenery for the first time in a while. Also, I really want to show Anne how it’s done and the results. I’m very sure she will like it as much as I do and I really am expectant to feel her reaction.

’Right!... I wonder if the Duke will like it too... I promised to show it to him first.’

Honestly, I kind of... want to be praised. It’s nice when people appreciate your art, so... I want to see it. How much they will like it and their opinions about them.

Another thing that also motivates me, is the promise Marianne’s Father made the second day we ate together, about going to buy new pastries together once we are better.

"The confectionaries we bought last time... you didn’t get to eat them in the end... So... once you have regained more strength, let’s go back to the shop and buy some more. Are you alright with that, sweetie?"

The way he said it at the time certainly conveyed how sorry he was that I couldn’t get to eat those desserts. So I want to go back there and eat them with him properly this time.

Anne hasn’t appeared much, but when she does, it’s very pleasant to feel how she reacts. I guess she is expectant to go buy new pastries since at the time he said it, I could feel her happiness filling our chest.

I will try to let her decide on the sweets since I was able to taste a bite of the one I chose before.

Time passed, and all in all... it took me about... Eight weeks and a few days more to go back to the condition I found myself in when I got here.

My recovery actually got delayed "a tiny bit" from the... sixth day?... I’m not quite sure, but it was around a week after I woke up that my peace went down the drain.

The psycho had been indeed watching me in my sleep.

I was aware he was doing that, and the only thing that consoled me was that he had been "thoughtful" enough to not wake me up with a sudden attack as he did back at the Royal Palace.

I told myself to apply the "If I don’t remember, it didn’t happen", as, "If I haven’t seen him, I didn’t meet him", to trick my mind and keep my mind sane. However, it all ended around a week later.

Apparently, he was at his limit. Because since then... he would make sure to let me know he was there.

In the beginning, he would only talk about "normal" things, considering how perturbed his mind must actually be, and then his mood would escalate for reasons I ignore. The first few days, he wouldn’t get violent like at our first meeting. However, slowly, he started to... torture me in different ways.

He would pressure my neck with his hands, pull my hair after trying to stroke it, hold my face immovable with his stretched hands on both sides and bring me closer to sniff me... deprived me of sleeping since the dark would bring shock to my body... and would use a dagger to trace on my hands, stabbing them in the palm’s skin with controlled strength, enough to not make a cut, as he moved it around on it... the unbearable part of this one was that I had to stay still, offering my hands and arms, unfolding them for him to do as he wanted... I had to stay still no matter what.. Since I didn’t want to be the one responsible for actually stabbing myself by not being able to keep the position he told me.

Marianne’s body was terrified every time night came, and it would have a continuous sensation of dismay from the moment the sun started hiding until midday. When I finally managed to stand up, he began using water to "bond" with me.

From all the nonsense he said during his first visits, the only I did pay attention to was when he said...

"Why is the Duke visiting you every day? Don’t you know that he hates you?... You shouldn’t let him in here, my little sister..."

Yeah...

So he was sick enough to be jealous of his father.

Not many days passed after he said that, but gradually he would talk less and less until the only words he was capable of saying were "Marianne" and "my lovely little sister" with those unfocused eyes of his.

I was so tired that my recovery got slower, and since my body was continuously twitching from trauma, it got difficult for us to get in better form as fast as I wanted.

Honestly, I was about to go crazy from all his talking, it felt like a broken record screeching as it played. If it weren’t for the month I lived in my unconscious state after the crisis that made us like this... I wouldn’t be as chill about this.

’Heh. Training does make a difference.’

In sarcasm, I laughed at how the continuous torture I endured in my slumber, actually helped me.

Thankfully, his visits stopped being daily recently.

In the last four days, he has only visited me twice, alternating day by day.

Also, something new I learned, is that Paul is a bit delusional at times. It didn’t make sense that he would say "I love my little sister’s smile" when I would be actually spitting at him on the inside. If I had the liberty to do something like smiling in the first place, I would never give one to him in the first place.

I can’t say I am totally fine after being under this psycho’s will for this long period, but at the very least, in this case, I knew when the time for him to appear was about to come... in comparison to my past life experience.

It was frustrating to meet the Duke and Paige every morning knowing what transpired in my room the night before. However, I can’t blame them for not noticing. There’s no trace of anything, and, why would I tell them about this, given the situation I am in?

If I act recklessly I can foresee a bloody catastrophe. And if there is blood... I don’t want mine to be the one to flow.

If it’s going to go down like that...

’I will make sure it’s Paul’s the one to be spilt.’