The Alastair Affair 4: Sylvain

by Edwards, Scarlett

  Chapter Seven

  The rest of the night all blurred together. To Sylvain, it seemed like some sort of horrible nightmare.

  Leila explained as quickly as she could where Bianca was. When Sylvain heard… and understood the implication… everything else ceased to matter.

  He told Leila to lead the paramedics there as soon as they arrived. Then he raced to find his little sister.

  She was in the room beside their father’s study. It was meant as a sort of grandiose bathing room, with an enormous, majestic bathtub in the middle. The chamber itself was antiqued; none of them ever used it because the bathtub was not connected to the main water supply.

  If you wanted water, you had to haul it there yourself, the old-fashioned way, in buckets.

  Sylvain skidded to a stop on the threshold—and found his little sister in the tub.

  Her head was lolled lifelessly back.

  “No,” Sylvain said, the exact moment he saw her.

  He raced forward and slid to his knees. He clasped her cold face.

  “No, no, no…”

  She was frigid. Her skin was frighteningly pale. And the water…

  The water was red with blood.

  Sylvain cursed as he looked at her arms. There were deep slashes all across them, culminating in marks on her wrists. The blood was no longer flowing, thank God.

  But how much had she already lost? How long had she been there.

  He felt the dirtied water. It, at least, was still lukewarm. Bianca never liked her baths too hot.

  That gave him a tiny bit of hope.

  He blessed Leila for having the foresight to lift Bianca’s arms above her heart. That doubtlessly stemmed the blood flow.

  Sylvain looked around the room, frantic. He noticed the knife Bianca had used to cut herself.

  In disgust he kicked it away.

  Bianca’s eyes flickered open. Just for a moment, just long enough for Sylvain to see there was life still in them.

  “Big brother?” she whispered weakly. “I knew… I knew you would come back.”

  “Yes,” he said. He held her face tighter. “Yes, always. Yes, forever. Bianca—Bianca, stay with me!”

  But it was too late. Her eyes rolled back and drifted shut.

  “Goddamit!” Sylvain sore.

  By then the sound of sirens was too acute to ignore. He could hear them from right outside the gate. The flashing lights mocked him through the window.

  Why the fuck weren’t the paramedics here yet?

  He cast a look at the door. Then looked back to his sister. He wished he could do something—anything! He felt so fucking useless! He should have never left her alone today. He should have never—

  “SYLVAIN!” Leila’s shout broke him from his thoughts. He turned his head up. Leila’s shape appeared at the door.

  She was panting, out of breath. “Sylvain, the front gate!” she gasped. “I can’t open it. It’s locked, the ambulance can’t get through!”

  “Fuck!” Sylvain cursed. In the madness surrounding all this he’d completely forgotten that he alone controlled the mechanism that sealed the gate at night.

  He grabbed for his cell phone and pulled it out. Just as he was going to use it to unlock the gate, it slipped from his grasp, and plopped into the water.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Sylvain exclaimed. He was shaking with adrenaline. He felt like he could do nothing right. He thrust his arm into the tub, into the vile mix of water and blood, and groped around for his phone.

  His hand brushed against Bianca’s leg. Then his fingers found the cell phone. They wrapped around it, and he pulled it out.

  But the thing was dead. He slammed the power button, again and again and again. He didn’t fucking know what he was doing. This was all his fault. The weight of his failure, the gravity of the situation, the extreme alarm all coalesced into a violent maelstrom of anger and indecision and uncertainty and paralysis. His control, ever his point of pride, was gone. His precision was gone.

  All he felt was failure.

  “Sylvain.” Leila’s voice. Coming from right over his shoulder.

  He looked back, surprised to find her so close. When had she come to him?

  “I’ll stay with her,” she said. “You need to open the gate.”

  “The gate,” Sylvain replies. “The gate. The gate. It’s right on this fucking phone, but I can’t get it on. I can’t—” his heart was pounding too fast. He felt every heartbeat in his chest like that of a racehorse. “I can’t fucking turn it on!” he roared.

  “There has to be another way,” Leila said. “Right? The panel outside. You can key in the code.”

  “The panel… the panel… right.” Sylvain knew he was losing precious time, but he could not for the life of him regain control. Everything was wrong. Everything felt off.

  “Go!” Leila insisted. “I’ll stay with her. You need to get help. Go!”

  The sirens were screaming from out front. Sylvain did not think there could ever be a worse sound than his sister’s screams… but there it was.

  “GO!” Leila yelled.

  Sylvain staggered to his feet. He cast one last look at his sister.

  He ran.

  Chapter Eight

  At the hospital, Sylvain had composed himself enough to feel once more a little like himself.

  His sister was going to be fine. No-maybe that was too generous. She was going to live… but if she would ever be ‘fine’ again, Sylvain could not say.

  “Hey,” Leila said softly. She sat across from him in the waiting room. “This wasn’t your fault.”

  Sylvain grunted and didn’t reply.

  Form the corner of his eye, he saw Leila hesitate… then make up her mind. She pushed herself up and came to sit next to him.

  “Really,” she said, when she was beside him. “There was nothing you could have done.”

  “I shouldn’t have left her,” Sylvain said.

  Leila looked downcast for a moment. Then her regular resolve returned.

  “You can’t live your life tethered to her,” she said. “And I know that’s not what you intend.”

  She put her hand over his. Sylvain almost pulled away. He did not want the connection, he did not want the human contact. All he wanted was to be left alone with his thoughts.

  But isn’t that exactly what you had for five years in prison? A sinister voice reminded him.

  With that thought, he left his hand still.

  Leila took it as a sign to continue.

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t live in the castle. It is your home, after all. It’s…” she paused, “our home.” She brought her hand over her tummy. “Remember?”

  Instantly Sylvain softened. Yes, he remembered, of course he did. He was going to be a father. He had a chance, with Leila, to rewrite the Alastair family legacy.

  He had the chance to do right by his son or daughter.

  “I know,” he told her. “Leila… I don’t blame you for what happened. I don’t want you to think that.”

  She looked taken aback by the suggestion. “Why would you blame me?” she asked.

  Sylvain gestured vaguely through the air. “For taking me away from the castle today. For making me leave Bianca on her own.”

  “Um.” She sounded offended. “I didn’t make you do anything. You offered.”

  He gave her a thin smile. “All right. I agree. Let’s not fight.”

  She huffed and crossed her arms.

  Sylvain turned his head forward and stared into the distance.

  Sometime later a female doctor came out. Sylvain rose.

  “Are you Sylvain Alastair?” the doctor asked.

  Sylvain nodded. “Yes.”

  She glanced at Leila. “I’ll need to speak to you in private,” she told Sylvain.

  Sylvain was just about to protest when Leila stood up. “I can wait in the hall,” she said.

  When she was gone, the doctor turned to Sylvain. “Your sister is heavily sedated,” she said,
with no preamble. “When we restored her fluids and she awoke, she became hysterical. We had no choice. We had to get her under control.”

  Sylvain made an empty sound in his throat. The back of his neck prickled.

  He vowed that if anything like this happened again, he would get Bianca to a private facility.

  “You’ll be able to take her home in the morning,” the doctor continued. “But as I was going through her records, I found some… peculiarities. I’d like to discuss them with you.”

  Sylvain’s eyes narrowed. “Peculiarities?” he asked.

  “It’s best if we do this in my office,” the doctor said.

  Sylvain motioned for her to lead the way.

  Once inside, she and Sylvain sat down across from each other at a desk.

  “You were saying?” Sylvain prompted.

  “Your sister is an interesting case, Mr. Alastair,” the doctor said. “This isn’t the first time she’s harmed herself.”

  Sylvain’s back stiffened. “That wasn’t a question.”

  “No. An observation. I saw her arms.” She leaned in closer and steepled her hands. “From the scars she carries, I’d say this episode wasn’t her worst.”

  Sylvain detected a note of… suspicion… in the woman’s voice.

  “Are you making an accusation?” he asked.

  “I’m having a conversation,” the doctor countered. She was not one to be intimidated, nor to back down. “No charges have been laid as of yet.”

  “Charges?” Sylvain asked.

  The doctor consulted her medical folder. “I understand you spent a considerable amount of time in prison, Mr. Alastair,” she said calmly. “Am I correct?”

  “Don’t beat about the bush,” Sylvain said harshly. He was in no mood for such games, and he could feel his control over that distant ball of rage slipping. “If you think I am responsible, say it to my face.”

  “No, no,” the doctor said. “I don’t think anything as primitive as that. All I’m saying is that you went away for quite some time. Your sister has harmed herself before. And yet I see not a single hospital admission in her records.”

  Sylvain’s interest rose.

  “I have friends in the private system,” the doctor continued. “They ran some searches for me. Your sister hasn’t been hospitalized anywhere before.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “With the types of scars she carries? Yes.”

  Unconsciously, Sylvain hitched his shoulders. He felt the welts on his back quite keenly now.

  “I just wanted to ask you some questions, so that I might understand the sort of patient I’m dealing with,” the doctor continued. “If you don’t mind?”

  “So long as you speak plainly,” Sylvain retorted.

  She gave a short, soft chuckle. “You are not a very forthcoming man, Mr. Alastair.”

  Something sparked in the back of Sylvain’s mind. The doctor was older than he, but not by much.

  Five, ten years, perhaps?

  He liked her attitude. She reminded him a little of Alicia. Not in the looks department—few could touch the woman who’d turned him into a man there—but in her manner of being.

  And she did not wear a wedding ring.

  The smallest smile played on Sylvain’s lips. “Is that a challenge?” he murmured.

  “Excuse me?”

  Sylvain’s smile grew. She was only pretending to be offended.

  “Never mind. You said you have questions?”

  “Yes. Typically, a person with your sister’s degree of… damage? Would have some sort of medical history to substantiate the claim of treatment. Now, I know you did not ever say she was being treated. That’s the point I’m getting at. She should have been.

  “I know you come from a wealthy family, Mr. Alastair. Money can hide a lot of things. But if you care about your sister’s well-being, you’ll need to tell me the truth.”

  “I haven’t lied yet.”

  “Who gave her the marks on her back?” the doctor asked, point-blank.

  Sylvain hesitated only a second before answering darkly, “Our father.”

  “When she was a child?”

  Sylvain’s whole body tensed. He hated speaking of this because of what it reminded him of. “Yes.”

  “And there’s never been… action taken, against him?”

  “You’re asking if law enforcement was ever involved.”

  “I am.”

  “Then no.”

  The doctor nodded. “Just as I thought. I’ve seen signs of domestic abuse before, Mr. Alastair. I don’t want to frighten you—”

  “Trust me,” Sylvain interrupted. “I am far from frightened.”

  “Then you should know that you sister’s wounds are far from the worst I’ve encountered. They do concern me, of course… but not as much as her mental health does.”

  “She is receiving treatment,” Sylvain said.

  “Oh?” the doctor sounded incredulous. “May I ask from whom?”

  “A psychiatrist my father hired.”

  “Your father—the same man who gave her those scars?”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Sylvain said. “But you have to understand, Doctor, that the majority of this happened while I was away. You know about my prison sentence. Which means you know how recently I was released.”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “Then you can appreciate that the only reason I came back here was for my sister. I am her guardian now. She lives under my protection.”

  “And yet the incident today occurred,” the doctor said softly. “And countless others in the past.”

  She looked at him keenly. “Have you given thought to the fact that her current residence may not be the best place for her?”

  Any appeal Sylvain imagined in the woman was quickly whisked away.

  “You’re suggesting putting her in an institution,” he said softly.

  The doctor leaned back. “Your words, Mr. Alastair. Not mine. I cannot force you or her to do anything against your will.”

  “Then no,” Sylvain growled. “I spent all those years locked in prison. I would die before forsaking Bianca to the same fate.”

  The doctor started to speak, but Sylvain cut in over her.

  “The differences between a mental institution and a holding facility are miniscule, Doctor. No. I will not put my sister there.”

  “A shame you do not consider it,” the doctor said softly. “Because in the end, I fear it will be her life that will end early. Not yours.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sylvain and Leila took Bianca back to the castle the moment she was discharged. She was still a bit loopy from the drugs and slept the whole way back.

  “When we arrive, I want you to stay with her,” Sylvain told Leila. “The entire time. Never leave her side. We don’t know what caused this. But I’m sure my father does.” Sylvain looked up at the monstrous estate. “I will not let him terrorize her anymore.”

  **

  Sylvain walked into the grand study where his father used to beat him as a boy. Here, Sylvain had endured countless lashings. Innumerable beratements. Constant criticisms for every little thing he’d ever done wrong.

  Considering that the family only spent the summer months in the castle? And a week or two in the winter? Sylvain could count all the pleasant interactions he’d had with his father here on one hand.

  He did not expect that to change any time soon.

  The old man looked up when Sylvain walked in. Sylvain refused to ever think of him by name.

  “Well, boy,” his father cackled. “Proud of yourself, are you?”

  Sylvain placed both fists on the desk. He glowered at the other man. For once, he did nothing to control that insidious bubble of rage.

  “What,” he said harshly, “are you talking about?”

  “Your sister, of course. I received a phone call from the lady doctor earlier. She had quite a bit to say.”

  She called? “What did you tell
her?” Sylvain growled.

  “Well, the two of us agreed that Bianca’s health is of the highest priority. I was shocked—shocked!—that you did not wake me last night. But nobody could sleep through those sirens. I saw them take her away. And I saw you—” he glared, “—running after them like a frightened boy, leagues out of his depth.”

  Sylvain could take the insults. He was used to them. Some sort of mental block prevented him from hurling them back at his father, however.

  Maybe that’s why the man considered Sylvain weak.

  “The doctor,” Sylvain said. “What did she say?”

  “That your sister needs continuous supervision. With which I agreed, of course.”

  Sylvain tensed. “And?”

  “And I called an old friend and made the proper arrangements. Bianca will no longer be staying with us.”

  “No!” Sylvain exclaimed. “You cannot!”

  “No?” his father chuckled. “Why not, son? Don’t you think that it would look unusual, suspicious even, for her not to be taken away? For her not to be placed in a home for the mentally unstable?”

  “That is not your jurisdiction.”

  “As her father, I’d say it is.”

  “She is an adult.”

  “With the mental capacity of a child.” He smiled. “Face it, Sylvain. You’ve failed.”

  “What did I fail?” he demanded. “Tell me what I failed!”

  “You came here for her. Obviously you did not return for me. My vision may be failing, but my mind remains sharp.”

  Sylvain snorted.

  “Oh, you disagree?” His father’s eyebrows went up in mock astonishment. “Tell me, then, why was Doctor Patterson not on call last night, to prevent Bianca from harming herself while you were gone, hmm?” He snapped forward. “It is because I dismissed him, Sylvain. I know what you and he were up to. Colluding, conspiring behind my back. Hah! If you thought I would sit idle and let it continue, well… you were gravely mistaken.”

  Sylvain said nothing. He kept his expression blank.

  How long had his father known? It’d been less than two weeks since he made the arrangement…

  “What’s the matter, boy? Cat got your tongue?”