The Girl in the Wych Elm (XI)

 

XI. Broken Towers (re-upload)

Solomon Hightower and his late wife, Josephine (Josie) had one child together, thirteen-year-old Apollo. Crippled by grief over Josie’s untimely death, Solomon started ignoring and neglecting his son not long after she passed away. Much of the widower’s time was occupied by his judicial duties which kept his mind off Josie. Solomon’s unhealthy coping mechanism took an unfortunate toll on his relationship with Apollo, who was abandoned in the care of nannies and estate staff. Apollo’s aunt, Gianna, was the last ray of light he had in his dark life. Unfortunately, Gianna’s maternal love for her nephew wasn’t enough for the tumultuous boy. Apollo only desired attention, affection, and acknowledgment from his father. But at every interval, Solomon dismissed his son when the boy tried reconnecting with him.

“I’m here to see Aunt Gianna.” Apollo boorishly told the nurse. “You can open the door.”

The anxious nurse looked over at her colleague. Apollo glared at the women, wondering what took so long when he gave them a simple order. “I’m-I’m so- I’m so sorry I have to tell you this Apollo.” He couldn’t see his aunt anymore. Gianna had been afflicted with a terrible autoimmune disease since birth which left her weakened, susceptible to chronic infections and illnesses, and in constant pain. Her disease worsened as the years passed, leaving Gianna unable to leave her suite or West Eden. Apollo lashed out at the medical staff for denying him access to his aunt. “My dad’s going to hear about this, and you’re all going to lose your jobs.” He told them in a bratty manner.

The nurses revealed that it was Solomon who told them to keep Apollo away because Gianna was recuperating from a cold. They explained to the boy how deadly it was to someone heavily immuno-compromised like his aunt. Solomon wouldn’t take any risks when it came to his sister’s health and survival. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” The second nurse lamented. She went in for a hug, only to be rebuffed by the child.

“Okay then… When… When can I see her next?” The nurses looked at each other again. “Don’t worry about it… I figured out the answer.” Until it was okay with Solomon, Apollo wouldn’t see Gianna any time soon. “Just tell her… I came by…” The disappointed boy lowered his head.  

The nurses replied they were more than happy to do that for him. “Knowing that you came by to see her will brighten Miss Gianna’s day.” But that wasn’t good enough for Apollo. He just wanted to see his aunt. On his way out the door, Apollo trashed the art kit he brought with him. His aunt loved painting. He and Gianna would spend hours painting together during his visits with her.

Solomon’s son was a terribly troubled youth. His mother was dead. His aunt was chronically ill. And his father was concerned with other things. The seeds of pain, trauma, rage, loneliness, and resentment took deep root within his soul. He became broken on the inside. The sweet child whom everyone around West Eden felt empathy for became a nuisance. He acted out and antagonize everyone who crossed his path, hoping to feel something other than despair and emptiness. That empathy, however, turned into disdain very quickly. They all turned their backs on the boy because he was uncontrollable. Apollo was a lost cause.

Vivianne received the worst of Apollo’s mistreatment. He was particularly ruthless and antagonistic when it came to her because she was the easiest victim to torment due to her soft-spoken and gentle demeanor. Apollo only bullied Vivianne out of envy. He craved the love her parents showered her with. The girl not being Christian’s and Rosalind’s biological daughter made his rage fester. Why was she blessed with them and not me? How come my life’s so miserable? Apollo reflected on those questions every time he watched Vivianne with her parents. He was sometimes brought to tears every time those unanswered questions crossed his mind. To Apollo, it wasn’t fair.

“She wouldn’t be so happy if she knew they weren’t her real parents…” A malicious idea came to mind. Vivianne’s parentage wasn’t a secret around West Eden. The only person who wasn’t aware was her. Out of spite, Apollo decided to break the truth to Vivianne. “She’ll probably cry until she vomits.” The deviant child snickered to himself. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction. As long as Apollo was miserable, Vivianne would never be happy.

But Apollo had an awful habit of thinking out loud. Claude and Joaquin overheard his harmful intentions while passing through the area. Claude, Horatio’s brother, became furious. He snatched Apollo by the collar and slammed him into the wall. “We heard what you said, brat.” Claude pressed his forehead against Apollo’s. He wanted the troublemaker to see the fire in his eyes.

Joaquin lit a cigarette and assumed the role of the good cop. “Look, kid, I know your life sucks ass but taking it out on Vivianne and everyone else isn’t how you deal with your issues.” When it came to Christian and his family, Horatio and Claude were extremely protective. They would give their lives for the man and his family. “I thought Solomon said he was getting you a therapist.”

Apollo blew a raspberry at the men. “Let me go and back up.” He told the men they were beneath him and he didn’t have to listen to them. Claude slammed the boy into the wall again. Apollo’s head bounced painfully off the surface. He became dizzy. “I’m telling my dad! You can’t put your hands on me like this.” He squirmed and fought against Claude’s hold.

Tired of his good cop act, Joaquin switched sides. He stepped in and smacked the boy in the mouth. “Shaddup…” The man said, irritated. “We’re not going back and forth with you. Arguing with a child is beneath us.” Joaquin brought the lit cigarette dangerously close to Apollo’s left eye. The terrified boy stopped squirming. “

“I’ve reached the end of my patience with you, Apollo.” Claude’s grip on the boy’s collar tightened. “We’ve already told you several times to stay away from Vivianne.” Had Apollo not been Solomon’s son, Claude would have whooped the boy’s ass sooner. “If you go anywhere near Vivianne again, especially flapping those lips of yours, the boys’ lacrosse team is going to find themselves one team member short before playoffs.” Claude opened his hand. Joaquin handed over his cigarette which was used to burn Apollo’s leg. He screamed, alerting some maids and a butler. “Can’t play lacrosse with two broken legs.”

The maids and butler came running to Apollo’s aid. “Um, is everything okay here?” The first maid asked with a trembling voice. “We heard scream-”

“The young master was trying to secretly smoke a cigarette but burned himself when we caught him. Everything’s okay now. We’ll take him to the house physician.” Joaquin and Claude sent the trio away.

The maids and butler didn’t believe the obvious lie but were in no positions to question the claim. “O-okay then…” The first maid nervously wrung her apron. “A-Apollo, you-you can’t sm-smoke inside the ho-house. Mis-mister Sol-Solomon will be-be u-upset.” Smoking in the shared and commons areas of the house wasn’t permitted. They had to go outside in the courtyard or on their personal balconies if they had one.

“Don’t worry your pretty face. We’re not gonna let Apollo pick up a bad habit.” He winked and clicked his teeth. Claude and Joaquin watched the staff like hawks until they left the area. “As we were-” Apollo kneed the man in his groin. “You shit!” He grabbed at Apollo only for him to evade.

“I’m telling dad what you just did to me!”

Joaquin turned red from laughter. “He’s not going to do a damn thing to us about you. So, save your breath, brat.” He called Apollo stupid.

Claude chimed in and doubled down on the statement. “Do you really think Solomon hasn’t been in the loop about your mischievous antics around the estate?” Joaquin helped Claude to his feet who braced himself against the wall.

The men were correct. Solomon knew about his son’s problematic and disruptive behavior. Unbeknownst to the boy, his misdeeds weren’t going unpunished. Solomon already had a solution in place. Apollo would turn fourteen in August. Solomon planned to send him off to a boarding school somewhere on the West Coast. He wasn’t supposed to know until the time came, but Claude accidentally revealed the secret. The world came crashing down around the distraught Apollo. He felt like his father was getting rid of him.

You’re the reason I’m this way! Apollo screamed internally. This is all your fault, dad. All the boy desired was the warmth of his father’s love and the look of his gaze. You’re just a mean bastard. The pain of his mother’s death didn’t come close to the pain caused by his father’s apathy. Apollo sprinted past Claude and Joaquin. He didn’t want the men seeing him cry. To bathe in the delight of his tears. Apollo ran until he reached his father’s suite on the third floor. Solomon would hear what he had to say, even if he didn’t want to listen.

The meeting concluded at the exact moment Apollo came barging into his father’s room. When Solomon laid eyes on his son, an annoyed sigh escaped his mouth. “We’ll meet again on Tuesday about this.” Solomon told the group before they dismissed for the evening. “Yes, Apollo?” He made no attempt at disguising his annoyance. Solomon’s eyes were glued to the folder in his lap.

“Claude… He threatened to break my legs and then he burned me with a cigarette.” Look. At. Me! He beckoned silently. Look. At. ME! Apollo’s nails dug into his palms. Solomon never looked up.

The tired judge sighed again; he massaged his forehead. “Well, what did you do this time, Apollo?” The doubt and irritation in his father’s voice sent the boy spiraling off the deep end. “Claude must have had a good reason. You haven’t exactly been on your best behavior as of recently.” His father automatically siding with Claude intensified the emotional  pain. Apollo wasn’t sad; he was furious.

For the first time in his thirteen years of life, Apollo raised his voice to Solomon. His own courage surprised him. “I’m not going! You’re not getting rid of me!”

Solomon threw back his head, releasing yet another frustrated groan which echoed through the room. He had no patience for vague answers or statements. Solomon’s eye began twitching.  “Apollo…what are you even talking about?” The judge was already burdened enough with a heavy caseload. He wasn’t in the mood to have a conversation but knew Apollo wouldn’t leave until he heard his son out.

“You’re getting rid of me when I turn fourteen.” Solomon slammed the case file down on his desk. His eyes finally met Apollo’s eyes. That was the first time Apollo had seen his eyes since Josie’s death. It nearly took his breath away. His father’s eyes had changed so much. They weren’t the same eyes as Apollo remembered them. They were empty and held an unnatural darkness within them. All he saw was a turbulent storm. Disturbed, Apollo didn’t know what to make of their transformation.

“Claude’s ass is mine when I see him.” Solomon snapped the fountain pen in half. His hand and expensive teal shirt were stained with black ink. “Fuck me! Now he owes me a new shirt!” Solomon dabbed the stain with a handkerchief, but it was useless. The shirt was ruined. “This was custom made too…” He fussed loudly.

Apollo continued arguing his point. “Did you hear me? I’m not going. You’re not going to make me.” He told Solomon with quivering lips. Apollo wouldn’t back down either, no matter how angry his father became with him.

Solomon clasped his hands together. Claude had opened his big mouth anyways so there was no point in lying or denying. “I’m doing this for your betterment.” He told Apollo boarding school would make him well-rounded and keep him out of trouble (hopefully). “You can always come home…during the holidays and breaks. That aside, this school I picked out for you has everything you’ll need and will need. They also have an excellent boys’ lacrosse team-”

Apollo shrieked at his father. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” He hyperventilated from the anger. “Stop talking! I don’t want to hear anything else from you.” Though a child, Apollo was exceptionally perceptive. A trait he inherited from his late mother. He saw through Solomon’s lie. “God should have taken you instead of mommy.” He shrieked again at his father.

Solomon, unbothered, laid his elbow on the armrest. “This…little temper tantrum,” he waved his hand through the air, “are you done now?” He watched Apollo with a detached expression. “You can say and think whatever you want, but I’m not gonna sit here and argue with a child who can barely wipe his own ass.” He glared at the boy. Solomon announced it was Apollo’s bedtime. He had three more case files to review before it got too late. It didn’t matter how much Apollo pleaded with and screamed at his father; Solomon’s decision was firm. He was going to boarding school. It was non-negotiable.

Apollo wiped away his tears. He calmly approached his father’s desk. Solomon watched him closely, wondering what his son was planning. In swift motion, Apollo knocked everything off his father’s desk onto the floor. “Now… I’m done with my tantrum.”

Solomon looked down at the objects scattered around his desk. “Your mother would be so disappointed in how you’ve turned out.” Embarrassed, he shook his head.

Apollo leaned across the desk and stared into Solomon’s eyes. “She would be more disappointed in you and how you’ve treated me all these years. I hate this family! I hate all the Hightowers! All of you can die! I wish all of you would die!” Solomon watched his son with a cold, hateful sneer as the young boy stormed from his room and vanished into the dark hallway.

Apollo buried his face in the first pillow he saw and released an ungodly scream of anguish. His scream came from the depths of his soul. His scream was filled with years’ worth of pain, rage, sadness, resentment, and hatred he had bottled up for too long. “He’s a rotten son of a bitch!” Apollo knocked over the nightstand’s lamp. “Why did you have to take her? It should have been him!” Apollo turned his anger upward to the ceiling, to God. “She didn’t deserve to die!” He asked God why He took kind-hearted people like his mother. Why he allowed sweet people like his Aunt Gianna to suffer. Why terrible people like his father and Claude and Joaquin and every other Hightower were allowed to flourish. “It’s not fair! It shouldn’t have been her!” The tearful child once again buried his head in the pillow. “Why is life…so unfair…?”

An hour passed. Apollo awoke to find he had cried himself to sleep. It was already nighttime, about a quarter after nine. His dinner tray waited for him on the bistro table in the living area. The meal went uneaten. Apollo had no appetite. “I’m not going to that stupid boarding school…” He said in a low voice. “He’s not going to force me either.” The emotionally devastated Apollo decided to leave West Eden on his own accord. “I’ll leave it all behind. The Silver Hightowers. West Eden. Wych Elm. All of it!” He was committed to his plan and rushed to his closet to get his suitcase. “I’ll go to my cousins’ home.” The cousins whom he referred to were Laurel, Annaliese, and Dominic.

“Of course, you’re welcomed here, Apollo. We understand.” Laurel told him over the phone. “We’ll always help a Hightower in need who wants to get away from that abysmal place.”

“We recently bought a four-bedroom house too!” Dominic jumped into the conversation. “You’ll have your own room! Although we’ll have to share a bathroom since there’s only two.”

“We’re excited you’re coming!” Annaliese squealed. “I got into cooking a lot after we left.” The woman was transparent with her young cousin about their lives outside of Wych Elm. Adjusting to a world without the luxuries, comforts, and privileges he was used to would be difficult. During their first year-and-a-half away from Wych Elm, Anneliese became severely depressed and struggled a lot with the changes. Cooking served as a distraction before it became her passion.

Apollo’s cousins left Wych Elm after renouncing their ties to their Hightower name. They went by the surname Tower. The youth hadn’t seen his cousins in almost six years. The trio left town because they were exhausted and aggravated with the family’s despicable ways and wanted peaceful lives. They had also been weary from their family’s feud with the Crimson Hightowers, becoming fed up with constantly looking over their shoulders for danger. Apollo’s relationship with the Towers wasn’t a close one like some of the other familial relationships around West Eden. They were also older than him by six, eight, and ten years.

As Apollo packed his suitcase, his mind wandered off. He thought about his new, potential life among the working middle class. It’s going to be hard without the comforts you’re used to. No one would clean up his messes. No one would bring his meals to his room. No more allowances and vacations every month. No more expensive clothes and presents. The new lifestyle would hit Apollo hard. He knew he would miss his life in Wych Elm which made him hesitant.

The young boy questioned if his decision to leave was the right choice. Was it a decision made on self-preservation? Or one made out of impulsive anger towards his father and his family? The doubts clouded his mind. “Maybe… Maybe I should sleep on it some more before I make up my mind.” He closed the suitcase and slid it under his bed.

However, if Apollo had stayed in Wych Elm, his life would continue to be miserable. If he left, he could start over fresh and change himself for the better, away from all the negative influences around him. Apollo wondered if he would experience true happiness or something close to it. He became distressed weighing the pros and cons of each choice. Young Apollo felt way in over his head.

“What do you think I should do, Benjy?” Apollo asked the stuffed turtle on his dresser. The animal was a gift from his late mother. She made the animal by upcycling Apollo’s baby blanket which his maternal grandmother had made for him when Josie was pregnant. Josie gifted Benjy to Apollo when he was four. Benjy was the last connection Apollo had to his mom. “Mommy loved her arts and crafts.” Apollo said as he examined the turtle. “If I do leave this place, that means I’ll never see you again…” He lamented, tears forming in his eyes.

Whenever Apollo was troubled, especially late at night, he went to his mother’s mausoleum to talk to her. Even though it was really late at night, Apollo went to Josie’s grave anyways, just in case that was his last night in Wych Elm.

Josephine Hightower’s mausoleum was more a work of art than it was a place for mourning and remembrance. Solomon was rumored to have spent a lot of money on its construction, to the point it nearly bankrupted the family. He made sure the best designers, builders, and sculptors were contracted to work on his wife’s final resting place. Even in death, his beloved Josie deserved only the finest things. Thirteen steps led to the open-aired, colonnade rotunda overgrown with vines. Each step represented a year of their marriage. At the center of the structure was a sculpture of Josie on a circular bench asleep with a book in her hand. Solomon chose that pose of his wife because she often fell asleep in the garden when reading while pregnant. No matter how many times Solomon scolded her not to sleep outside (because she could get sick), Josie continued doing it anyways.

The mausoleum was enclosed inside a private garden so that in death, Josie always had a view of the flowers she adored so much. Solomon’s wife was the only Hightower interred on the estate’s grounds. Not even the patriarch’s own parents were awarded that privilege. Many assumed it was Solomon’s way of keeping Josie close to him.

Apollo praised his father for the mausoleum’s design. He thought it was a beautiful tribute to his mother. His only issue was the angel statue that sat atop the structure. As beautiful as the angel was, her ambiguous expression always made Apollo’s hair stand up for some reason. Some days she appeared pensive and detached. Some days she appeared gentle and comforting. And then there were days when she looked wrathful; Apollo felt like the statue could see into his soul. It was unnerving.

The boy plopped down on the hard bench and rested his head in the statue’s lap. He conversed with the statue as if she were his actual mother. “I don’t like this version of dad.” Apollo confided in the statue how he always felt like Solomon loved Josie more than him. How he came third to his mother and his Aunt Gianna. “I don’t think he ever wanted a child. I think he just wanted to keep you happy.” Apollo’s tears trickled into the statue’s lap. “I’m sure I’m higher up in the list than my Uncle Dorian.” The boy laughed through the tears and sadness.

“Is that-? Is that Apollo over there?” Claude squinted. The garden lamps only provided so much visibility in the darkness. He, Horatio, Joaquin, and some other men were outside smoking. Claude wanted to know why the boy was outside so late in the night. “He better not be up to shit.” The man furrowed his eyebrows.

“Apollo’s talking to his mother.” Horatio lit another cigarette. “That’s his thing.” He told his brother to leave the boy alone. “You’ve already ruined his day.” Horatio chastised his brother a second time for his big mouth. “Also,” he pointed his cigarette, “you owe the patriarch a new shirt.” He released the smoke in his lungs.

Claude jerked his neck. “Why?” An argument broke out between the brothers.

Joaquin tuned out the conversation and focused his attention on the sky. Yet another storm was on its way in. “What’s up with this strange ass weather lately?” He said with the cigarette in his mouth. Joaquin was tired of the gloomy weather. He couldn’t stand it. No one paid his words any mind though.  

“I don’t see how that’s my fault?” He touched his chest. “He should take it out of that brat’s allow-” A stray bolt of lightning struck the house.

Joaquin quickly ashed his cigarette against the stone lantern. “Shit! The storm’s already here!”

“We need to get inside. Now!” Horatio barked at the men. The group hauled ass towards the nearest door.

“Shit! That brat, Apollo!” The boy was still at his mother’s grave. Though Claude couldn’t stand the boy, he was still Solomon’s son which meant his safety was Claude’s responsibility.  “Apollo! Apollo! Dammit!” He swore out of frustration. The thunder drowned out his voice.  “I’m going to get him!” Claude yelled to the men.

“Be careful!” Horatio and Joaquin yelled back. They watched from the breezeway as Claude darted across the lawn towards Josie’s mausoleum screaming for Apollo.

“Apollo! Apollo, get your stupid ass inside the house! Apollo!” Claude was nearly hoarse from straining his voice over the noise of the storm. “APOLLO!” The boy didn’t respond.

Apollo awakened once again to find he had cried himself to sleep. When he realized he was in the middle of a storm, he sat upright with alarm. “Claude?” The child squinted. He was genuinely shocked the man came to retrieve him.

Claude waved his hands in the air. “Apollo! Come on! We need to get inside the house!” The wind picked up, turning everything that wasn’t secured to the ground into dangerous projectiles. Claude finally reached the mausoleum. “We need to-” Apollo threw himself into the man’s arms.

“Thank you…Claude…” He cried into the man’s shirt. Apollo meant those words. Claude’s attitude towards the boy softened a bit. Apollo was still a child despite everything he had done.

Claude couldn’t help but smirk at the affection. “Yeah, yeah, yeah... Let’s get back to the house.” He held Apollo close to him. “Urgh… Damn. I can’t see anything.” The wind and rain were so heavy that Claude couldn’t find an easy path back to the breezeway where everyone waited for them. “Just stay close to me-” A second lightning bolt struck a tree not far from where they stood. Claude told Apollo they needed to move quickly.

For some reason, however, Apollo wouldn’t budge. Claude reprimanded him. He told Apollo to push his fear aside so they could get to safety. It was dangerous where they were. Apollo didn’t tell Claude, but he had a terrible feeling that something horrible was about to happen. “Claude… I-I don’t think… We should stay right here!”

Claude told him no. “We don’t have time for this!” He cursed. The man would carry Apollo if he had too. “You’re going to be fine." Claude grabbed Apollo, but the child fought against him. "Stop it, Apollo! We can’t stay here! It’s not safe!”

“Claude, watch out!” Apollo used all his juvenile strength to shove Claude away from him before a heavy tree came crashing down on them both.

The next bolt of lightning struck the angel on Josie’s mausoleum. “APOLLO!” Claude, horrified, watched helplessly as Apollo was killed by the statue in front of his mother’s grave.

 

 

“Well, Genevieve my dear cousin, the final laugh belongs to you.” Saraphina said as she drew the curtains for the night. The storm howled outside her window. “Urgh… That bastard will be here soon…” Saraphina referred to her youngest son, Alexander. She was his prisoner and had been confined to her room for almost a decade under the guise of “house arrest.” No one in and around Old Cahawba knew what crime Saraphina committed to warrant such an extensive sentence, not even her twins Victor and Virgil. No one dared to ask or question Alexander about his mother’s crime.

Saraphina was repeatedly subjected to physical, emotional, and psychological abuse at the hands of her sadistic son. He tried every method he could to break her, but Saraphina remained tough as a diamond. Her unwillingness to grovel or submit only fueled Alexander’s sadism towards her. Despite slowly wasting away in her room, Alexander gave his mother an attendant, Aspen, to keep her company. Unfortunately, his presence didn’t alleviate her suffering or solitude. Aspen was withdrawn and rarely spoke. When he did, it was short and to the point. He kept to himself in the corner of Saraphina’s room occupied by his crochetwork.

As predicted by Saraphina, Alexander came barging into his mother’s suite with a venomous grin that was ear to ear. The woman sighed at him. “Good evening…mother…” Alexander greeted her coldly. His words came from a hateful place.

The mayor made himself comfortable on Saraphina’s bed, wiping his dirty shoes all over her clean sheets. To his displeasure, Saraphina picked up her book and began reading. She blocked out her son’s aggravating presence. But in the spirit of depraved spitefulness, Alexander tore the book from Saraphina’s hands. He groaned when he read the cover. “Reading Macbeth, again?” His mother had read the play so many times over the years she could recite every line from memory; it was Saraphina’s favorite literary work. The former matriarch used to read the play to her sons when they were small. Alexander had never been fond of Macbeth or any of Shakespeare’s works though. He found the dead man’s writing boring and made sure Saraphina knew at every interval.

The woman erupted into uncontrollable laughter. Alexander’s forehead vein pulsed from his anger. Saraphina leaned over the arm of her chair. “I can’t believe I’ve never told you this, but you’re really no different than Macbeth, my son.” She continued laughing in his face.

“Humor me.” He replied in a strained voice, sneering at his mother. Alexander snapped his fingers. “Aspen, come here.” The quiet boy placed his crochetwork in his basket and scurried over to Alexander. “Throw this in the fireplace for me, please.” His polite tone with the boy contrasted the harsh one he used with his mother. Aspen launched the book into the fire and returned to his corner.

The act of spite didn’t bother Saraphina at all. She was used to it. She was numb to it. Destroying her book was the least harmful thing he did to her. “You’re thirty-five years old still throwing a tantrum like a child.” Saraphina crossed her arms and glared at her son. “Very unbecoming of a Hightower patriarch.” Alexander’s face twisted and grimaced with rage. His mother was playing a dangerous game inciting the man’s anger. She further doubled down on how Alexander embodied Macbeth in many ways. “You’re too ambitious. You have this perverted desire for power. You have extreme violent tendencies. You’re a deceitful prick. And you’re greedy.” Saraphina told Alexander he would meet his downfall just like Macbeth did. “The only difference between you and Macbeth is that he was once a noble and honorable man before he fell to the corruption of his desires. You on the other hand, never possessed those traits.” She said Alexander was born with a darkness inside him.  Saraphina got up and walked over to her vanity. “Thaddeus was always ranting about Godfrey and how he couldn’t be trusted to lead this family.” Saraphina told Alexander it seemed Thaddeus was mistaken. Alexander would be their family’s downfall.

“But you’re forgetting one crucial part about the play, mother dearest.” Alexander crunched on the crisp apple he brought with him. “Behind every deranged Macbeth is an equally deranged Lady Macbeth.” Saraphina ignored his response and began removing her makeup. “There’s no point in dolling yourself up everyday when you have nowhere to go. No one’s coming to see you.” He said with smugness.

“Virgil would come see me if you allowed him.” Out of Saraphina’s three sons, Virgil was the only one who truly cared and loved her. He begged Alexander to let him see their mother but was denied every time.  “I miss him…” Saraphina said sorrowfully, rubbing her stomach.

“Pssh!” Alexander became vexed at the mention of his brother. “He’s still the same, boring ass mama’s boy he’s always been. You’re not missing out on much with him.” He replied disgusted.

“You were a mama’s boy too a long time ago…” The anger on Alexander’s face returned. His grip on the apple tightened.

“That was before I realized how much of a weird bitch you were.” The man chucked the apple at the vanity. Saraphina’s makeup and perfume scattered all around the floor.

The woman finally snapped. “I wish Thaddeus was alive to see how you’ve turned-”Alexander grabbed his mother by the hair and yanked her neck backwards. She screamed for him to let her go.

“Thaddeus was weak…” He growled the words. “Especially towards the end of his pathetic, senile life.” Alexander’s hatred of his mother stemmed from her scheming antics and the incestuous attachment she had towards him while he was growing up. Once he matured, Alexander noticed how easily manipulated by Saraphina his father was. His mother wanted a puppet. She wanted to mold Thaddeus’ successor into the ideal man worthy of leading the Hightower family. But Alexander refused to be her puppet. “You have a lot of audacity to sit here and call me ambitious, greedy, power hungry and deceitful.” Alexander was so infuriated by his mother’s previous words he shook violently. He reminded Saraphina that she was responsible for her own cousin’s death and then took her husband.

“Let go of me, Alex-” He punched the vanity’s mirror with his hand.

Alexander tightly cupped Saraphina’s mouth. “I’ve told you to never speak my name.” He snarled at the trembling woman. “I don’t ever want to hear it coming out of this dirty mouth of yours.” He shoved her head away aggressively. Aspen continued ignoring the intense scene before him. “When you create monsters, don’t be surprised when they eventually turn on you.” Alexander regained his composure.

Saraphina immediately whipped around and threw her hairbrush at him. “You hateful ass bastard… I should have terminated my pregnancy like Philomena demanded me to.” When Philomena discovered her daughter-in-law’s third pregnancy, she went to Saraphina with an ominous premonition that came to her in her dreams. She urged her daughter-in-law to terminate the pregnancy.

The mayor cackled, finding light humor in his mother’s statement. “Philomena was a spoon and a knife short of a flatware set. I’m not trying to hear it.” 

From the other side of Saraphina’s door, Victor approached with security behind. “Alexander.” He called his brother’s name. “Warren needs a word with you.” Victor tapped on the door. Alexander told him to enter. Victor kept his eyes forward on Alexander, refusing to make eye contact with his mother. He never once looked at her.

“What’s your report?” Alexander directed to the chief security officer.

“It’s in regard to Mister Elias and his father Mister Tobias. About forty minutes ago, a violent altercation took place down in the latter’s suite. Mister Tobias suffered severe injuries and is on his way to the hospital as we speak. He’ll more than likely need a Head CT and some stitches. Mister Elias has been placed under house arrest in his suite.” That was all he had to report at the moment. They questioned Elias about the assault, but he refused to say anything to them. “Your eldest brother, Mister Claude, is currently throwing a fit over the punishment.” The man didn’t hide his disdain and dislike for Claude to Alexander.

Alexander, intrigued, paced back and forth in front of the men. “I wasn’t aware little Elias had such a fiery side.” He spoke with amusement. “I can’t wait to hear his side of the story.” He would first discuss the incident with Tobias once the man had recovered. Alexander was well aware of Elias’ close relationship with his brother, though he was still ignorant of their scheme. “Thank you, Warren. You may go-”

“Mama!” Virgil bulldozed through the wall of men.

“Virgil, don’t.” Victor swiftly restrained his younger brother. He did his best to hold him back. “You can’t-” Virgil threw his head back hard. Victor yelped; his nose was broken. “God dammit, Virgil!” He shoved his twin into the floor.

Virgil scrambled towards his mother, calling out for her. Alexander blocked his way. He shook his head cautiously. A warning. Virgil dug his nails in the hardwood, conflicted over what to do. He never dared to challenge his younger brother. Virgil always followed behind Alexander blindly, obeying whatever order was given to him. However, he could no longer stomach his mother’s mistreatment and cruel imprisonment. “Alex-”

“Mother is unwell, Virgil. We should leave her to rest for the evening.” Virgil’s eyes darted over to Saraphina. She was disheveled and downcast but otherwise appeared in good health.

Virgil, once again, pleaded with Alexander. He wanted to visit with her if only for an hour. “Alexander…come on… Let me see mama, please.” Watching the only son who truly loved her groveling and pleading at the feet of her other son was torture for Saraphina. The scene tore her apart. Virgil looked over at her again. She forced a smile despite being devastated by Alexander’s cruelty.

It’s okay. Saraphina mouthed to her anguished son. She didn’t want Virgil in trouble with Alexander who wouldn’t have hesitated to punish him as well. None of the man’s brothers were exempt from his temper and violent outbursts.

Alexander stood firm on his decision. Virgil had had enough. He fired back at Alexander to everyone’s astonishment. “No…” He rose to his feet and closed the distance between him and Alexander. They were about the same height. “No… I won’t accept this. I’m-I’m not going to accept this.” Virgil raised his voice louder. A wildfire of anger burned in the man’s eyes.

Victor, frightened for his twin’s safety, intervened. “Virgil… Let’s not do this.” Virgil batted him away.

“Tell me, Alexander… What did our mother even do to you to deserve this?” He referred to Saraphina’s house arrest as captivity. It was too abhorrent. “I-I mean… I-I don’t understand! At least… At least allow her some visitors. Alexander…this-this is a horrible way to treat someone, especially your mother.” Virgil argued the situation wasn’t right. Ten years locked away in her room should have been more than enough time served. “Whatever she did do, I-I’m sure it was for a good reason at least. Everything she’s done for us over the years has been for us, her sons.” Virgil was adamant about not leaving until Alexander changed his mind.

Victor continued damage control, reminding Virgil that Alexander was the head of the family. “Virgil. Stop this! Please… this is getting out of hand.” He tried reasoning with Virgil again.

“No! You need to stop it, Victor! Are we being serious right now? I don’t care if Alexander is the patriarch. At the end of the day, we’re his older brothers. We should be able to call him out when he’s clearly in the wrong.” A terrified, wide-eyed expression appeared on Victor’s face.

Alexander had remained quiet and surprisingly calm during the twins’ spat. He held out his hand to Warren. The security officer handed over his taser. Alexander turned the device up to the highest setting and used it on Virgil. He dropped to his knees. Alexander exchanged the taser for a nightstick and struck Virgil several times.

Saraphina expelled a spine-chilling shriek watching Alexander beat Virgil until he laid in a pool of his own blood. “STOP IT, ALEXANDER!” She lunged at him only to be restrained. The woman thrashed, kicked, and screamed against her captors. “You’re going to kill him! Stop! Ssttttooooppppp!” She was hysterical. “You’re going to kill my baby!” Alexander stopped the assault. He was covered in sweat and panting heavily.

Victor gathered Virgil into his arms. “Virgil? Hey! Hey! Virgil.” He called out, shaking his brother. Victor was relieved when Virgil started groaning and moving a little. “Thank God…” He pressed his forehead against Virgil’s.

“Take him to his suite.” Alexander ordered security; he returned the nightstick to Warren.

“Are you dense?!” Saraphina screamed at her son. “He needs a doctor. You need to take him straight to the hospital.” She tried to free herself from the men but was unsuccessful. Saraphina had to get to her son.

“You need to shut up, Saraphina.” He snapped at his mother. Alexander said the problem was between brothers and didn’t involve her. The last thing Alexander wanted to hear was Saraphina’s comments, concerns, and criticisms. “Go!” He barked at the men. Alexander looked over his shoulder at Saraphina. “Enjoy your evening, mother.” His devilish smirk was the last thing Saraphina saw before the door shut on her.

The downtrodden Saraphina lost it and tore her room apart. No piece of furniture, clothing, or belongings were safe from her destructive wrath. Aspen continued crocheting, unbothered. “Damn that bastard son of mine! Him and Victor can rot in Hell!” She broke a chair in two against the floor. Saraphina inhaled and exhaled to calm her temper. “It seems the time has come for me to use my trump card against that smug son of a bitch.” She would no longer be Alexander’s prisoner and punching bag after that night. Her days of humiliation and abuse were behind her.

Hidden behind her vanity was a secret compartment. Saraphina removed a sealed, red envelope and beckoned Aspen to her. “Yes, Miss Saraphina?” The boy answered his lady in a deadpan voice. His uninterested expression reflected his tone.

Saraphina handed Aspen the envelope. “What I’m about to ask of you is very, very important. This task is more important than your own life.” The boy cocked his head to the side. “Take this envelope to Claude Hightower. And don’t let anyone know about it, especially that insufferable bastard Alexander.” The contents of the envelope contained the catalyst for her youngest son’s downfall.  

Saraphina’s relationship with her cousin’s son was…non-existent. She ignored the boy after his mother’s death and never bothered to show him an ounce of maternal love. Claude was always Thaddeus’ other son to her. “Hmm… How did he…?” She stared down at the envelope in her hands, wondering how Alexander made the connection between her and Genevieve’s death. Saraphina’s cousin had died of respiratory failure after she spiked her tea with a dangerous quantity of opium. Saraphina never spoke about her crime. No one should have known about it, especially Alexander. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” She said, handing the envelope over to Aspen. Saraphina wouldn’t be around to face the repercussions of her past sins anyways.

“Miss Saraphina… What are you doing?” Aspen sounded somewhat concerned about his mistress.

Saraphina pulled back the curtains and flung open the window. The storm had begun to die down. She lamented not being able to see the moon and stars one last time as she climbed on top of the railing. The cool wind felt immaculate against her hot skin. Saraphina felt free for the first time in a decade. “Please tell Virgil I love him and that I’m sorry.” The woman began laughing and rejoicing into the night. “‘Now take me light! Now cover my darkness!’” She closed her eyes. Aspen watched as Saraphina jumped to her death. 

 

Author's Note: *In Professor Farnsworth's voice from Futurama.* Good news, everyone! The re-uploaded chapters have been completed. Moving forward, I'll be uploading new chapters of this series! I'm relieved this delay didn't take as long as I thought it would. 

I also wanted to offer some clarification on the timeline of events because I realized it may be difficult for people to follow. Chapters where there are multiple scenes with various characters are happening concurrently. This particular chapter is a shining example of what I mean. The events leading up to Apollo's and Saraphina's death are happening at the same time, you're just reading them separately. I'll try to keep this path consistent. Chapters where there are standalone events/scenes are happening on different days following the previous chapter. I'll do my best to make sure the timeline of events remains clear and understandable to follow.