Twisted Ever After

by Celeste Thrower

  I go to move, but Lucien seemed to have read my moves. He met me on the other side of the desk, blocking my escape route. I spun on my heels, trying to get the space between us back, but I wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed my arm, making me lose my balance, and I went down hard. With Lucien holding my free arm and a fire poker in the other, I have nothing to catch my fall. My head exploded with pain as it made contact with the floor, and I felt warmth trickling down my eyebrow.

  I groaned, trying to roll away, but Lucien had his hands on me. I thrash and screamed as he pins me to the floor. I lost all hope; I was going to lose myself and my life in Lucien’s crazy messed up world. He was going to drug me until I was the submissive little wife he wanted.

  I never expected to have a knight in shining armor. I never wanted one. As a kid, I wanted to be the savior, not the damsel in distress. But in the next moment, I had never been as grateful to see Adam walk through the door of the study. He was breathing heavily as his eyes scanned the room, knowing I was there. Finally, he found us on the floor. Lucien seemed as surprised as I was to see him.

  The anger that laced Adam’s face was something I had never seen before. His features scrunched up and tight. His teeth clenched in a fury, he looked more beast-like than man.

  “Adam…” I whispered, the pain in my head making itself well known.

  Lucien tried to get to his feet before Adam swooped down on him, but he wasn’t fast enough. Adam picked him up by the collar and threw him against the wall. Adam let one good punch out before putting his forearm into Lucien’s throat, holding him still.

  From on the floor, I could see the fear in Lucien’s eyes. He honestly hadn’t expected Adam to come to my rescue. My Prince Charming…

  “Belle,” Adam ground out, not taking his eyes off Lucien. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay? I need to hear you say something before I take this poor excuse of a human apart limb by limb with my teeth.”

  I chuckled softly, the action way harder than it should have been. “I’ll be okay, Adam.”

  Some tension left Adam’s shoulders, but only some. He was leaving plenty of his pent up rage in check for when he was able to release it all on Lucien.

  “You don’t have to marry him to break your curse, Belle. You can marry me instead,” Adam said.

  “No,” Lucien choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “It has to be a DuPont.”

  “And I am one.”

  What?

  “No. I. Would. Know,” Lucien spoke again, his breathing becoming raspy from a lack of air supply.

  “Actually, you wouldn’t. Did you know your father had a sister? No, I’m sure you didn’t. The DuPont family cast aside my mother for conceiving a child out of wedlock. Me. My father’s identity, the second crown prince of France by the way, was kept secret. My mother didn’t want her psycho family to think they could climb any ladders by it. My parents loved each other, and we lived a happy life at my father’s estate… until they died in a car accident when I was twenty.”

  These details were a shock to hear. Adam and I hadn’t talked much regarding our parents. A sore spot for both of us. But he had been so supportive through my father’s passing; it all made sense knowing how much he had suffered.

  “You’re. Still. Not. A. DuPont. By. Name.” Lucien was still hanging on to whatever hope he could muster that I would be his.

  “No, but in blood, I am. And according to the old witch who Belle had told about the curse, blood was all that was needed to break it.” Adam turned toward me, letting a limp Lucien fall to the floor. “So Belle, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife? Marry me?”

  I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “All you had to do was ask; I’ve been yours all along.”

  Adam turned a light shade of pink, and Lucien gargled a moan of despair. He had lost his game of chess, and now he would suffer for it.

  Adam leaned in and touched his lips to mine. The small touch of his skin sending fireworks and meteors throughout my body.

  But I couldn’t keep my eyelids open any longer. The pounding in my skull would not be ignored any longer.

  I gave into unconsciousness, the words ‘I love you’ on the tip of my tongue.

  For the first time in a while, I woke to a familiar sight. My things surround me in my room. I try to sit up, but Adam gently pushes me back down.

  “No, don’t get up. The doctor will be here soon.”

  I look at him, confused. Doctor? At my house?

  Reading my mind, he chuckled. “I brought our family doctor here on a house call AFTER we established you weren’t in critical condition. I knew you’d prefer to be home than in a hospital.”

  I smiled, only Adam could think of something so sweet. My smile faded to worry as I recalled the fight with Lucien. I sat up against his wishes and look him over frantically, hoping, praying he isn’t hurt.

  “I’m fine.” His voice soothed my frayed nerves.

  “And…Lucien?”

  “In prison. For attempted kidnapping and first and second-degree assault.” I let out a deep breath. It was a relief to know he wouldn’t be coming after me anymore. “And,” he said, getting my attention once more. “I wasn’t kidding. Marry me, Belle. I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. I am not complete without you, and when I thought I had lost you, I nearly lost my mind. I was a beast in human flesh, searching for my lost mate. So please make my life whole once again and be my wife.”

  Adam pulled an old ring box from his pocket and opened it. I gasped, the most beautiful diamond ring sat inside. It was perfect. I couldn’t have picked any better myself.

  “It was my mother’s… and now it’s yours if you’ll have me.”

  I covered my mouth with my hands as tears began to creep down my cheeks. I nodded my head frantically, trusting he caught my drift. He slid the ring on my finger, the weight feeling unfamiliar. Yet, the ring was comfortable on my finger, as if it was always meant to be there. I reached my arms out and pull him into my embrace. The comforting scent of pine, purely Adam.

  “I love you, Adam. Always.”

  Adam woke me by sitting up, pin-straight in bed. “Belle. I had the weirdest dream… there was a talking teapot and a talking teacup. I had a dog, but it wasn’t a dog, it was my footstool. My body was covered in fur and I…”

  “Adam, honey, go back to sleep…”

  Little did he know; I had those same dreams.

  ALSO BY N. TERRY

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  RETURN TO WONDERLAND

  BY ROSS TUOHY

  A WITTY RETELLING OF ALICE IN WONDERLAND

  Photographer: Lecia McDermott

  Model: Maryanka Alsina

  Franklin wove his way through the kitchen, tearing open the cupboards and looking for something to calm his sweet tooth. Half a loaf of bread, a little cheese and some crackers greeted him, his mother hadn’t been shopping today.

  He slumped down onto a nearby chair and seethed. Images of chocolate, Turkish delight and pink wafer biscuits bubbled up from his subconscious, taunting him with the faint afterimages of familiar smells and textures. His stomach twisted a little, letting out a monstrous, gurgling growl. There had to be something sweet hiding somewhere. He leapt off the chair and returned to the cupboards, swiping the savoury snacks aside and snaking his small arms into the very back of the cupboards, his fingers returned holding nothing but stale crumbs.

  In his desperation he tiptoed back to the chair, seizing its back and easing it towards the countertop, careful to limit the mournful groaning of the chair’s feet across the kitchen floor. He paused for a moment, listening for his mother’s voice from the upstairs bedroom yet nothing came. Franklin gave the chair an experimental prod, testing its sturdiness and scrutinising his handiwork before clambering onto the seat. He listened again. Nothing. He took a deep breath and seized the side of the counter. The chair rocked from side to side as Franklin’s weight shifted, the thick wooden legs tapping out a steady rhythm on the kitchen floor.
He could feel the seat of the chair slip out from under him, his body suspended in midair as his arms flailed in all directions, slamming down on the sides of the sink as the chair rocked backward, swinging like a pendulum before bringing down its front legs with a heavy clatter.

  “Franklin! Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine mum, just dropped a toy.” The ease of the white lie surprised Franklin but he kept his composure, looking to the top cupboard.

  “All right well you be careful, your grandmother will be here soon.”

  “Yes, mum.”

  He held his breath, straining to listen for what felt like an age, forcing his ears open to pick up any stray sounds.

  He eased out a grateful sigh after a few more moments, turning his eyes back to his prize. Using the window sill for leverage he hauled himself up onto his knees, forcing his arms out like a tightrope walker to maintain balance before lunging at the handle of the top cupboard. His tiny fingers scraped at its edge before looping through it and pulling the cupboard open wide.

  Franklin’s eyes locked onto the first thing he saw, a wide metal cylinder decorated in painted wildflowers of all colours and topped off with a small yellowish lid in the shape of a pyramid, crowned by a large white marble that served as its handle. He rocked himself forward and up onto his knees, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of the tin as he braced himself against the windowsill. His shoulder muscles pulled taut as he strained to get a grip, careful not to over extend lest he slip and fall. The phantom scent of chocolate digestives played in his nostrils as another clawing swipe sent the thing spinning deeper into the back of the cupboard.

  He bit back a groan and withdrew his hand, casting his eyes around the counter for anything that might extend his reach.

  The sides were immaculate, every utensil had found its place in the myriad of cupboards and drawers that infested the kitchen. His mother must have washed the dishes already. Franklin knew it would be foolish to try to open a drawer, even if he quelled the rattling din the knives and forks would make he lacked his mother’s need for order and meticulous attention to detail and she would know without even opening the drawers that something was amiss.

  “You shouldn’t be up there young man,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen doorway.

  Franklin’s eyes exploded with happiness as he turned to see a kind old woman standing at the kitchen door. While the heavy nests of wrinkles around her sapphire blue eyes denoted wisdom and experience, the eyes themselves seemed to radiate a childlike sense of wonder tempered with a sly mischievousness that had slipped into her during childhood and never left. Her silver hair held faint traces of the sunshine blonde it once was, and while her body seemed to quiver with the tremors of age and weakness, Franklin knew better.

  He leapt down from the counter, bowling into his grandmother and wrapping his arms around her legs.

  “Granny Alice!” he exclaimed, giving her lower body a squeeze as he tightened the hug.

  She reached down and ran a hand through his hair, letting the comforting warmth of the moment envelop her before kneeling down to Franklin’s level with a soft groan.

  “What were you doing?”

  The boy’s back stiffened and he hid his face in the folds of her long green dress.

  “Nuffin,” came his reply.

  Alice smiled, pulling him a little closer as she leant down and whispered in his ear.

  “What biscuit do you want?”

  “Bourbon Cream,” giggled Franklin as his grandmother rose, putting a finger to her lips as she reached into the tin and pulled out two thick brown rectangles dusted with sugar surrounding a heavy layer of chocolate buttercream.

  She handed her grandson the first with a wink as she took a dignified bite of the second. Franklin gobbled his in two huge bites.

  “Frankie, is someone at the door?”

  Granny Alice placed a finger to her lips, the universal sign for silence and slipped behind the kitchen door as Franklin stifled a laugh.

  His mother came into the kitchen her arms laden with folded laundry.

  “Is granny Alice here?”

  Franklin shook his head, swallowing his laughter as his body quaked with mirth.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Franklin shook his head, tears shimmering in his green eyes as he watched his grandmother sneak behind his mother, making a series of silly faces.

  ‘Wha-?’ she turned and let out an ear splitting shriek, sending shirts and sheets flying in all directions as Franklin’s laughter exploded from his body.

  “Bloody hell mother! Do you have to be so immature?” she tutted as she swiped a bed sheet from the floor.

  “Always Catherine, one of us has to set a good example for Frankie,” said Alice with a smirk, helping her daughter pick up the washing.

  “How have you been? I missed your last letter.”

  “We’re fine.” The words were clipped and Alice saw a slight flush of embarrassment blossom across Catherine’s cheeks.

  “No word from Daniel?”

  Catherine bristled.

  “Frankie, why don’t you find a good spot to play hide and seek? Me and your grandmother will come find you in a few minutes.”

  Franklin tilted his head a little bemused but did as he was told, wandering into the living room and casting his eyes around the room for the best hiding place. Behind the curtains? Too obvious. Under the coffee table? Too small, they’d spot him in an instant. Then he saw it. The great big squashy sofa at the edge of the room. It was perfect. He turned an ear to the kitchen, half listening to his mother and grandmother’s conversation as he slipped between the living room wall and the back of the sofa.

  Franklin squeezed his way to the centre of the sofa, his nostrils filling with the familiar scent of old fabric and dust as the pale, yellow warmth of the afternoon sunlight began to fade into cool shade. He could still hear his mother and grandmother in the kitchen yet the sound seemed almost muted, as if it were coming through a broken speaker. He turned, moving towards the thin slit of pale light at the other end of the sofa. As he moved the wall seemed to shift, drawing back a little to give the boy more room before twisting to the left then the right, narrowing so much that he stooped to crawl as the pale, spring light began to fade and the odour of wet dirt swam about his head.

  Thin tendrils of green spidered their way across the wall like a shattering pane of glass, growing thicker as Franklin made his way deeper into the strange new tunnel. He always focussed on the small slit of light in front of him. The colours shifted from the simple pale yellow to a deep, verdant green flaring like a firework, dark sparks popping before Franklin’s eyes as he hauled himself into the light, feeling his hand slip into the void as the wet ground began to crumble and he tumbled down and down and down.

  Franklin groaned, stumbling to his feet and swiping the thick layer of dust from his shirt. The thick canopy of trees around him seemed to crane over the path, as if the weight of their leaves were too much for the trunks to bear. The boughs of the trees seemed to twist and turn into weird, unnatural positions, reminding Franklin of the slides at the local park. While the leaves shone a deep, verdant green the forest seemed to radiate a sense of fundamental wrong. A strange fuzziness surrounded the leaves and Franklin felt as if he were looking at them without his glasses on.

  “I suppose I should welcome you?” came a voice oozing with superiority from a nearby tree branch.

  Franklin’s eyes darted to the source of the voice and yet when his eyes settled on the branch he found nothing.

  “You’re new aren’t you? I can smell it on you, it’s been ever so long since someone new visited us. It gets ever so lonely here”.

  “Who’s that?” said Franklin, feeling a jolt of fear arc up his spine as the sun shifted and the already gloomy light of the forest grew darker.

  A low purring erupted from the spot where the voice had come from which reverberated through Franklin’s bones like some new ethereal song, growing
darker and almost transforming into a growl as it settled in his guts.

  “Its been sooooo long!” murmured the voice, elongating the word as if it were stretching and shaking off an eternity of exhaustion. “I must admit I’m surprised things have lasted this long, the poor White Rabbit’s cottage turned to straw just last week.”

  ‘“Who’s there?"

  The voice clucked its invisible tongue in irritation.

  “You really aren’t very observant are you?”

  Franklin adjusted his glasses, squinting at the spot where the voice had come from. The air seemed to twist and shift in a particular spot like a desert heat haze, if he concentrated he could almost make out the silhouette of a plump cat, tail swishing from side to side like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

  Franklin blinked, wiping his glasses on his shirt as a gargantuan, toothy grin blossomed in front of the hazy cat shaped thing. The body followed, a thick black ribbon curled its way out from the base of the neck, wrapping around the rest of the weird form and letting patches of thick, luxurious fur sprout along its length like a spring lawn. Another dark brown ribbon followed suit as two lamp like eyes seemed to drop from thin air, rolling into place like balls in a party game as the bushy tail completed the ensemble.

  The Cat glared down at Franklin, its massive grin widening even further as it tilted its head from side to side and puzzled over this new arrival. "Just who might you be?"

  Franklin gaped at the cat, his heart thrummed like a hummingbird’s as his rational mind screamed at him to run, then the cat’s eyes glowed and it let out a deep, velvety chuckle.

  "I won’t hurt you little one, in fact I doubt I could with the state I’m in, neither could the rest of us come to that.” It let out another throaty purr, elongating the last letter of the last word as it did.