Changing by Remorse- Part Five

“We’re home!” announced Dylan as he burst through the front door, letting himself in first.

There was no reply as to acknowledge their presence; the house was rather quite, the atmosphere was built tense, it felt unnerving to them all.

Usually, the maid would have called out some sort of insult back that would have resemble her equivalent of a `welcome home’, it would be negative, yet cheery nonetheless.

Yet they continued to await a response of any sort.

Flustered and relatively reddened in the face, the maid had appeared by the kitchen doorway suddenly.  Everyone cocked their heads at her whilst she wiped a hand across her forehead, obviously tired.

She exhausted a slight pant before applying a false grin, directed at Robert,

“Got a present for you in the kitchen Robert.” She trailed away to the location of the kitchen where the four of them initially decided she wanted them to follow her towards.

In all honesty, Robert was slightly petrified of what she had awaiting him in the kitchen, when she was pretending to be this sickly sweet, it often meant that he was in trouble or one of the children had pissed her off.

Yet neither of those two issues seemed to explain why she looked so exasperated. She looked like she’d been wrestling an ostrich, her hair strayed everywhere, her outfit crooked and red blotches dotted all over her person.

He decided that it couldn’t have been either of those factors, and that the ostrich scenario seemed somewhat unlikely; so he was effectively dreading what was initially lurking in the kitchen.

Equally, the four of them simply stood in the doorway for a few moments; they spent it perplexing over their current situation, speculating their next dilemma.

Whilst they stood there dumbstruck, the maid continued to make her way over to the breakfast bar where she perched herself on one off the stools. She let out a relatively positive sigh, glad that this was now their problem and they could probably deal with it.

After a few hazy blinks Jude penetrated the still air,

“It’s the chick!” he stated, so overly eager that he was able to recollect her, yet, whilst doing so,  giving the remainder of the room minor heart attacks due to his sudden outburst.

Sure enough though, tied to a chair, situated in the direct center of the room sat the exact woman from the photo that Al had given them.

The photo of her crinkled under Robert’s grasp. He was unsure whether he was fuelled with rage towards this woman or relief over finding his salvation.

Deciding that no one was going to say anything anytime soon, with a roll of her eyes, the maid trudged over to the fortune teller to untie her gag. The only response that was effectively created was repetitive blinking from Junior.

With a roll of her neck she eased on a smile before the fortune teller aimed her focus onto Robert,

“I’ve broken into hundreds of homes in my time, yet this is the first time that I’ve ever been spotted, let alone actually captured. You’ve got an excellent hand ‘ere you have, you’re lucky. She put up a pretty good fight an’ all too, despite your age an’ all. Don’t you lose this one, you hear.” Tilting her head towards the maid in mutual respect.

However, it earnt the woman a piercing glare from the maid, aggravated at the fortune tellers underestimation of her abilities.

Junior stepped forward, unaware of what he was about to tangle himself up into,

“Alright then, here are the facts we have: this is actually reality. There’s something different about me, no prize for the winner there, a slight accusation that you were involved in all this though. Which leads me onto our last encounter, I know that I’ve met you before, last night… although I’m not too sure what business went down… and you’re an ace at breaking and entering.” He counted off each speculating point on his fingers. He had finished up after declaring all the knowledge that they had uncovered that morning, yet also as his nerves began to deteriorate.

Now freed from the ropes, the woman rose from her chair. Gradually, she paced a circle around Junior, keeping a constant lock on his eyes as his quivered in hers. Eventually she stopped, straightforwardly in front of Junior, no distance sparred between them.

Robert caught his own breath; she felt him lax in apprehension, then she smirked. Her eyes squinted in her own victory against him, he caught her message.

“Cast you mind back.” Her words seemed to melt into one presumptuous bundle.

Junior’s eyes flickered, unable to prevent them from doing so. His thoughts wandered, then drifted before they dwindled, he had no control over his actions either, he felt his whole self slump, feeling no reason to resume stable.

He swayed as he lost his own will to want to stay conscience, yet still stood upright.
She brushed her hand over his eyes, and he allowed her to let them close.

A beat throbbed in his ears playing out minor as to start with. She placed both her hands on either of his temples, the throb intensified in magnitude, filling every void in his mind, everything expanded beyond constellation. She applied pressure to her fingertips, burdening him with further strain.

She closed her eyes.



Layers of silked curtains coloured pale and flattering shielded an elder looking Robert and the fortune teller from any unwanted attention, securing their privacy.

Seated on a welcoming plush violet lounger, Robert was completely engaged in conversation with what she was saying, in total bewildered awe. She looks at him, whilst she’s speaking, using the conversation as a diversion as she secretly studies him. He’s not relatively hammered, and he has a reasonable understanding of what she is saying.

Despite the horrendous thundering of the music -and the clamoring crowd cheering Jude on-, everything else their side of the curtains seems so placid…

She held out her hand for him to give her his.

As he hesitates, she sends a look into him, as for reassurance.

Fluttering her eyes shut, she kept a firm grip on his hand.

Brain pounding, eyes scrunched tight shut, she dropped his hand and in one swift movement, and grasped his face with both her palms. She jerked her eyes open.

She sighs, a single gasp for air, then peeled herself away from him.

“You had them all very young, didn’t you?” she discovered, falling back into her seat, panting in sudden exhaustion.

His brows furrowed as he worked his brain to connect wires and to link ideas as to what her statement had meant…. realising what she had meant, his eyes grew in astonishment. He was quick as to ask her how she knew, she leant in to him, honesty possessive in her eyes, she replied,

“I could feel something inside of you… it was calling, strong, out like a beacon. I could hear… feel you wanting to be better. You may not want to hear this, or know this, but you want to be there… to take back your youth, to use it right, not like the way you misused it… To be involved with them, present in their lives… To actually be a father to them.”

Unable to break his stare; ever so gradually, Robert reeled himself back to lean into his chair, just to allow himself a few partial moments as to consolidate over this enlightening counseling.

He notices that her chest is still heaving heavily, due to the rapid pacing of her heart. The pause between conversations is deliberately slow; her eyes run over his emotional stance before selecting a string of words that she knew he would struggle to answer.

“Is it true then, Robert?” He considers her question for an intensifying while, then gazes out.

Attention drawn past the curtains, he ponders at the crowds of people, drinking, cheering, and carrying Jude above them as if some sort of victory.

He turns back to look at her.

He nods.

“Yeah. I guess…” reminiscing rather solemnly. She tilts her head, cracking a slight grin into the corner of her mouth.

“Interesting…” she speculated, stretching out the word menacingly, drawing out tension into the room, as well as pricking Robert’s hairs onto stalks.

Chanting in a drunken frenzy, the crowd calls for Robert. He briefly considers joining them, yet, in his state, would rather sit and contemplate, to be able to perpend his regret over and amalgamate. However, taking advantage of his drunken condition, she manipulates his will, ushering him out.

Staggering through the layers of (now tangled) curtain, Jude eventually reaches Robert and greets the woman with a slurred grin.

“Look, Robert… they all wanna see ya, let- let’s just give ‘em what they want… yeah?” Struggling to web together an understandable sentence Jude finished the last of his glass, downing it all in one. Gasping, Jude handed Robert the glass, proving it was clean finished before laughing at Robert, so proud of himself -and boozy.

Pointing at the fortune teller, he purls a lose strand of her hair consistently around his finger, utterly mesmerized by the swirling. The look on her face foretold she was unimpressed, as if to say, ‘What the hell are you doing…?’ She sent a brief raised eyebrow in Roberts’s direction, indicating that he should probably pry Jude off of her now.

Responding to her suggestion, Robert grabs Jude by the shoulders. Acknowledging Robert’s touch, the excitement of Jude blurted,

“Come on mate, let’s go!”

Under Jude’s arm, Robert is dragged into the pulsing surge of bodies that made up the crowd of the club, leaving the fortune teller behind.

She watches them from the alcove of curtains.

Neither of the Hollywood stars turned back to her as she slid the curtains close, sealing what had happened that night behind silk. Yet, what no one else noticed as she did so was the satisfaction portrayed on her face, true pleasure as she leered on at the dispersing Junior.