Renegade (The Elysium Chronicles #1)(61)
After several more minutes of this, Mother stops, but apparently the Maid doesn’t know because she slams into the back of her. A glass shatters on the floor, spilling red wine.
I stop breathing. It has landed just millimeters from the tips of my fingers. The Maid immediately bends to clean it up, apologizing.
Mother, obviously having had more than a few drinks, just laughs it off. “Leave it. Just fetch me a new glass, will you? And bring the bottle.” She waves her away.
The Maid rushes out the door, still apologizing.
Mother, still chuckling, sits at her vanity. I’m able to peer up enough that I can see her reflection in the mirror glass. She brushes her hair—not surprisingly using the more practical brush that was in one of the drawers—and adjusts her makeup, also pulled from one of the drawers, before she touches a finger to the corner of her eye. Then she reaches the same hand out to the picture on the mirror. It appears to be a picture, but I can’t see of whom.
“You left me, too. Why does everyone always leave?” she whispers.
My eyes widen when she pounds a fist onto her vanity, knocking down one of her perfume bottles. When it hits the floor, it breaks, sending the smell of lilies all over the room. She pushes up quickly, and kneels to clean it up.
She only picks up a few pieces of glass before she jerks her hand above her head and throws the handful of glass onto the ground full force. Most of it shatters on impact, sending shards flying in every direction. Then she stands and starts screaming, yelling words I can’t understand because of the crashing and breaking of glass that accompany it, as she tosses stuff around her room.
She tosses another of her perfume bottles and it shatters centimeters from my head, nicking my face and arms. It burns like hellfire from the alcohol in the perfume, but I bite my tongue to stop myself from crying out.
When she finally stops, the floor is littered with what used to be the decorations and furniture in her room. My heart hammers so loudly I can’t believe Mother doesn’t hear it. But even over it, I can hear the sobbing gasps of her breath and I know she’s weeping.
The Maid returns and stops short in the doorway. “Oh, my! What happened here?” She rushes to Mother and I wince, expecting Mother to freak out on her. She pauses and I hear her intake of breath. “Oh, no, ma’am, you’ve cut yourself.”
“It’s nothing. Just a small cut. From the perfume bottle.” From my vantage point, I see Mother grasp the Maid by the upper arms and her voice cracks when she says, “Don’t let anyone see this. I can’t let anyone see.”
“I won’t, ma’am. I’ll take care of this personally.”
“This is Evelyn’s fault. She left me for a Surface Dweller. Everyone always wants to leave.”
“I know, ma’am. And after everything you’ve given that child. After you saved her from her failure. Gave her another chance to be something special. Let’s get you to Dr. Friar. He’ll know just what to do.…”
They walk out the door and the Maid’s voice slowly fades away.
My mind whirls. What in Mother’s name was all that about?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
What was once just a spark of an idea in Mother’s head became all that you see and know in our wonderful city. Mother created Elysium so that she, and those like her, could live in peace, far away from the greed and intolerance raging war on the Surface.
—HISTORY TEXT, YEAR FIVE
I lie underneath the bed long after they leave, my breath haggard. It’s several minutes before I feel it’s safe enough to risk venturing out. When I do, I’m astounded. Even though I heard the damage she’d done, I had no idea of the full extent of it.
Everything that could be lifted was broken. Broken glass and splintered wood litter the floor. Every single one of her precious jeweled bottles lay shattered on the dresser and floor. Bits of colorful glass are everywhere. Even in my hair. Her china dolls—her most prized possessions—are broken and strewn about the room like the victims of the footage of the Surface I was forced to watch in Mother’s Daughter of the People lessons.
It hurts to see it.
With a glance at the door, I sneak a peek at the photograph. It’s a picture of a blond woman sitting in front of some kind of stone wall with a hole in it—a fireplace, I think—and there’s a young child sitting in her lap. Curious, I flip it over. Written on the back are the words, “Never forget.”
With no time to figure it out, I shove the data cube I’m still holding into my bra. Taking a deep breath, I stick my head out into the hall, then sneak as quickly as I can back to the door I came in from. Festival is still going on, but I’m still pretty recognizable. Besides, I haven’t made sure the turrets are completely turned off. No sense in testing it out where innocent people could get hurt.
I stick as close to the original path as I can, only taking a detour when I hear voices of workers. They seem to be in a hurry. I wonder whether they’re late for Festival or looking for me.
Since I know my way this time, it takes only half the time to get back to Macie’s as it did to get to the Palace Wing and I’m grateful for that. The episode with Mother weighs on my nerves. I can’t wait to share this information with Gavin.
I push through the door and lean on it to close it. It’s completely silent in the apartment, and my instincts immediately begin to hum. Why is it so quiet? It’s not like I expected them to have a party while I was gone, but I did expect some kind of noise. Like talking.