9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

-Alison-

"What?" I exclaimed. "I find that hard to believe."

I leaned in, eager for more insight from Julia, and she shrugged.

"He doesn't," she whispered.

"Why do you think that?"

"He doesn't let me out," she revealed.

"Are you always confined to that room?" I asked.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Except for these walks?"

"Yes."

"What do you do in there?" I inquired further.

She shrugged again. "I play, study, and eat."

"Is that all?" I pressed.

"I sleep and use the bathroom too."

"I meant, do you have any friends to play with?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied.

"Who?"

"Those I make up," she explained, and I sighed, leaning forward and resting my arms on my knees.

"Is that bad?" she asked, noticing my reaction.

"What?"

"You seem disappointed. My dad doesn't like my friends either. He says they aren't real," she recounted. "He says such things are for babies."

"Don't listen to your dad. If they are real to you, then they are real. I used to be lonely too," I confessed.

"You did?"

"Yes, the friends I had were chosen by my mother. The only real friend I made was Jared," I admitted.

"Is that your husband?"

"Yes, Jared is my husband," I confirmed. "I cared a lot about him from the moment I met him, but just as he struggles to say he loves me, I struggled back then to show him I cared for him."

"Why?" she wondered.

"I simply didn't know how," I explained. "So I loved him in secret, while he thought I hated him."

"Then how could you be friends?" she questioned.

I smiled faintly. "Okay, maybe we weren't friends at first, but we were a part of each other's lives," I acknowledged. "And we have remained a part of each other's lives for almost as long as we have been alive."

"Were you in love all this time?" she inquired.

"I loved him. His love came later."

"What came before it?" Julia asked, her curiosity obvious.

I sighed, grappling with how to explain the complexities of my relationship with Jared to this young girl. There were certain aspects I couldn't divulge, not suitable for her innocent ears, but she seemed eager for an answer.

"Anger," I replied.

"Anger? So he did hurt you?" she inferred.

"No, he didn't hurt me. But there was anger between us. However, that's all in the past. We've learned to express only love in our own unique way," I explained with a gentle smile.

"And what way is that?" Julia pressed.

I chuckled softly. "You'll understand when you're older."

But Julia shook her head. "I won't understand."

"Why not?" I inquired.

"I have no one to love, and Dad won't let me see anyone. How can I find a husband he hasn't chosen for me?" she lamented.

It struck me then how innocent yet perceptive Julia was. She viewed the world through a distorted lens, influenced by her father's control, yet she also grasped the harsh reality of her circumstances. It pained me to see her burdened with such worries at such a tender age.

"Well, as we grow older, we become more difficult for our parents to control," I offered, attempting to inject some optimism into the conversation. But Julia shook her head.

"Why not?" I asked.

"He'll never let me leave," she confessed. "Mom thought the same."

"Where is your mom?" I inquired, scanning the surroundings as if she might suddenly materialize. However, she was nowhere to be found, and when I turned back to Julia, a haunting emptiness lingered in her gaze.

"What's wrong?" I asked, leaning closer to her.

"He said she didn't want me," Julia whispered, her voice tinged with sorrow.

"Julia, I'm sure—"

"He's lying," she stated, turning to me with an anger in her eyes that seemed too heavy for someone so young.

"I—"

"He is," she insisted, as if I were the one accusing her mother of abandoning her daughter.

"Okay," I replied, choosing not to argue.

"She's the only one who loves me, and I know she wouldn't leave," she pressed, tears welling up in her eyes.

I wondered how often she had to reassure herself of this and how tightly she clung to the belief. She sniffled slightly, then composed herself, stifling her emotions, likely accustomed to their unwelcome reception.

"You can cry," I offered softly.

She shook her head. "Mom always warned against it. Dad doesn't like it. But I know she didn't leave me. You can't replace her."

"Don't worry, I have no intention of trying to replace her. I promise," I assured her.

"But you're wearing her clothes," she pointed out.

I recoiled, taken aback, then glanced down at my attire. Julia's observation left me speechless, and I turned to her slowly, but she avoided meeting my gaze.

"You resemble her too, just older," she added.

"When was the last time you saw your mom?" I whispered.

Julia shrugged. "I don't know."

"Because you don't remember, or...?" I trailed off, unsure how to proceed.

"What day is it?" she asked abruptly.

"Um, I think it's either Thursday or Friday."

"No, I mean the date."

Once again, her words left me stunned, and she regarded me with a neutral expression, seemingly unaware of the weight of her inquiry. We sat in silence for a moment, until her caretaker intervened, stepping forward with a bouquet of flowers in hand. She offered them to Julia, who accepted them.

"These will brighten up the room, don't you think?" she suggested.

Julia nodded, though her enthusiasm seemed forced. Catching my eye, she made a decision and then handed the flowers to me.

"What? For me?" I inquired, surprised.

"You have a room too, right?" Julia asked.

"Yes, but these are for you," I insisted.

Julia shook her head. "I don't want them. They wither. I don't like it."

"Oh," I murmured, taking the flowers and understanding her aversion.

Julia continued to watch me with those neutral eyes, devoid of warmth or depth. I couldn't help but wonder what Louis had done to his own daughter.

"Come, we should go inside," her caretaker interjected, holding out her hand.

Julia was about to reach for it when I intervened, blocking their connection.

"We've barely been out here for 15 minutes," I pointed out.

"That's plenty," her caretaker retorted.

"Experts would disagree," I hissed.

"It's not up to you to decide how long Julia gets to be outside."

"Just a little longer. Look at how pale she is. She obviously needs the sun," I argued.

Her caretaker remained unconvinced.

"Either you failed biology or you never took a class, because without proper sunlight, it can cause severe health problems, especially in a young child," I growled. "Should I inform Louis that you're not doing your job properly?"

Her caretaker seemed alarmed and took a step back. I turned my gaze to my watcher, but he remained impassive, solely focused on ensuring I stayed put.

"Good, then we'll keep the blood flowing," I declared, turning to Julia. "Shall we take a walk?"

For the first time since we discussed her mother, Julia's eyes sparkled with wonder. She nodded eagerly, and we both stood up, venturing around the backyard and soaking in the warmth of the sun. As we walked, I felt a tug on my hand. Glancing down, I saw that Julia had taken hold of it, and I couldn't help but smile as I led us around.