“Lolita, my time is very precious, so please tell me quickly why you feel the need to send your son away.”
Lolita’s eyes turned black as she began to recount the story. She once had a brother, sister and cousin who worked long hours in the same household under terrible conditions. It was common knowledge that her sister was being abused by the master and his drunken friends. Barely 16, she was brought in to “entertain” during monthly poker games and quickly became with child. Not one word was spoken around the household while she proceeded to get larger every week. Lolita’s mother tried to hide her as best she could, but there was only so much time her sister could spend in the laundry room.
A great sickness fell over the city and Lolita who still lived with her Grandmother heard a story that was so horrible it possibly couldn’t be true. Her cousin and brother became so ill with the plague they were now a danger to the family that employed them. Quickly they were escorted along with her pregnant sister to the shed of a livery business and locked in. Assured that food and water would come shortly, someone set fire to the building so they would be disposed of quickly and efficiently. The three of them never had a chance.
Her Grandmother also caught the sickness, and when she died Lolita was brought to the great house to work. She had roamed the streets during the day until the cook came from the main house to take her under her wing. Brought to where her mother worked Lolita became employed to bring in the coal with the younger boys.
By the time her mother died she no longer loved her husband. John had been ill since he was a child, and now was eternally confined to a wheelchair. Each day she thought and hoped he would draw his last breath but he didn’t. It was only a matter of time now she thought.
Her white cat calmly swished his wet paw over his head and blinked his eyes at Lolita. He had seen that smile before and knew what she was thinking. As soon as they married it was apparent that Lolita had planned her strategy years ago. Once they were officially a couple, the cat watched her become a woman of greed and not substance. He heard the door open and watched John being wheeled in by the driver. Such a sad state of affairs not to be loved by his wife. The cat thought he was lucky still being in her favour. John shot Lolita a look of helplessness and said,
“Are you happy my dear?”
Lolita said nothing as she took her hat off and marched upstairs. The cat followed stopping once to glance back at John. The feline knew which way was up and chose to stand on the side of the one who was soon going to be in charge. Cats are not stupid you know. He jumped on the bed, sat next to her, and listened to what Lolita was mumbling to herself,
“One day this is all going to be mine,” she said.
The cat heard a crash downstairs and knew that her desires were about to come true. If he knew his mistress like he thought he did, she would have her own way soon. The driver ran up the stairs and told Lolita the physician had been summoned because her husband had collapsed in his wheelchair. Lolita smiled and wondered if there might be a chance that he might perish. If anyone knew what she was thinking they might insist she should be thrown inside some insane asylum. Of course she had felt hatred throughout the years after what her family had endured. She had encountered the Devil many times and would now live under his umbrella of hell for the rest of her life.
Lolita heard the physician’s voice downstairs and patted her hair down as she went to join him. Her husband was barely breathing on the lounge and the physician shook his head as he looked at her. She took out her large handkerchief, slowly let out a loud sob, and began to pace the floor in anticipation of his death. Dabbing at her eyes, she hoped the staff would sense she was beside herself with grief.
Dr. De la Dechirure tended her delicately like she was his very own wife. It had been no secret to his friends how much he loved Lolita when he came daily to see her late husband. The good doctor hoped they might marry after her mourning period. Through the sickness De la Dechirure had suggested it to her many times, and she scoffed at his advances. Her future plans had no room for another interfering husband.
Each day he became more forward with Lolita and her body and one night he gave her an extra dose of his potion so she would sleep more soundly. While Lolita slept Dr. De la Dechirure had his way with her. Not once, not twice, but three times. He was positive once their child started growing in her belly she would be forced to marry him.
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