[Atlas]
Cordelia falls limp in my arms, her body completely unresponsive as I call her name over and over again.
“Somebody call the paramedics!” I shout into the crowd as I sweep her into my arms. “Hurry, please, I think she might have been poisoned!”
At the word “poisoned” the people around me began to panic, worried more about their own safety than that of my wife.
How did this happen? How did I let someone get close enough to hurt her s
[Atlas] Pregnant. Cordelia is pregnant. I stop hearing what else she is saying because my mind is still reeling. How can she be pregnant? Remembering I am not alone, I take a breath and ask, “Two months?” “Around 10 weeks, give or take a day or two depending on when her last menstrual cycle was. The baby should be here by early summer…” she says with a bright smile. “Congratulations.” Our divorce was finalized two months ago. That would mean that she became pregnant just before we signed those papers. Give or take a few days. I think back to exactly when that pregnancy might have occurred. The night I found her drinking wine. Wine that was likely drugged by Sydney. The night she and I... Oh. No. It was only the one time. It’s not possible…I can’t…we can’t… “Mr. Steele,” the doctor calls my name. “Are you okay?” “I’m sorry, I just…It’s been a very long day,” I say to excuse my behavior. “Can I see her?” “As long as you do not disturb her,” the doct
[Cordelia] Someone is holding my hand. Opening my eyes just a crack, I see Atlas’ blond hair glowing in the nearby lamplight. He looks softer than he usually does with his hair askew and his shirt unbuttoned with cuffs rolled up to his elbows. He is always so crisply dressed, so cold and distant in the way he presents himself to the world–especially to me. Yet at this moment as he sits here holding my hand he looks soft, gentle, and warm. I gasp, my chest pounding as I moan in agony. My entire body feels abused and tender. “Cordelia,” he whispers, hearing me gasp, sitting up a bit str
[Cordelia]Atlas and I agreed to try and see if we could be in a relationship–a real romantic relationship.My ex-husband wants to be my boyfriend. And as such, he was convinced that he needed to start protecting me immediately.But I could see how tired he was, how much he needed to rest, so I shooed him away.“I’m not going anywhere,” I laughed. “And I need my sleep too.”He told me he’d be right back. So I rested my head on my pillows, closed my eyes, and let my body settle into a much-needed sleep, looking forward to a new day and a new start in life.When I opened my eyes again, the room was dark. Atlas isn’t here, but I can smell his lavender
[Atlas]She looked so tired when she asked me to leave, that I agreed to give her enough space to rest. I didn’t want to admit that I needed rest too. I was willing to watch over her sleeping form until I knew she was well enough to travel. I wanted to bring her home with me, but she refused. “I want to go slow,” she insisted. “Last time I was forced into your world. This time, I’d like to invite you into mine.”So I went home. Climbing into bed, I couldn’t sleep, haunted by memories of her and me together. Not just the unforgettable passion of that night when our child was conceived, but every kiss, every fight, and every interaction since. This time will be different because this time, we are coming together because we choose to, not because we are told to. Eventually, I gave up on sleeping.I won’t feel comfortable until I’ve seen her safely return to her home. Climbing out of bed, I wash, eat, and rush back to the hospital. When I get there, I don’t stop to check in but go dire
[Cordelia] I wake to the sound of birdsong and the warmth of the sun shining through the window near my bed. Blinking, I open my eyes to see a pleasant room painted in bright yellow with wooden furniture and large pillows in pastel colors. It all looks like something from a tropical dream of what Heaven might look like. “Atlas,” I call out into the quiet. There is no response. The last thing I remember is the feeling of his arms around me as we… The door creaks open. Suddenly alert, I sit up quickly. Too quickly. My head begins to pound and I suddenly feel like I might be sick with pain from the way my brain feels like jello inside of my skull. “What is wrong with me?” I mumble more to myself than to anyone else. “Where am I?” “You’re here, with me,” a cheery voice calls out. Moving my hands, my eyes take a moment to adjust. “Angelica?” I cannot believe my eyes. “But you disappeared? You’ve been gone for 5 years and I…” “What are you talking about, “ she smiles over her should
[Cordelia]“I can see you are still not convinced,” Angelica walks over to the dresser and pulls out a long sundress and undergarments. “Let’s go find Jude. He’ll help show you the truth.” She helps me get dressed, as my body is fairly unsteady. She tells me that this is normal for me after one of my “episodes.” There are times when my mind shuts down and I go in and out of consciousness for several days or even weeks. This time I had been asleep for a week and a half. “And every time I need to remind you of who you are and what has happened,” she sighs. “You seem to believe your dreams are real and this is a fantasy.” Guiding me gently by the arm, Angelica gives me a grand tour of the island. It is surprisingly close to home, just a short distance from Los Angeles. “Jude’s family has had property here in the Channel Islands for generations,” she explains as she continues to tell me more and more about a fiance I cannot remember going on and on about his merits. With the way her f
[Cordelia]“Are you okay, Cordy,” his face and voice are warm and concerned, but his eyes are cold, and calculating, looking at every element of my face.Forcing my face into a smile I lie. “Everything is fine.”As happy as I am to see Angelica, I cannot trust her. She lied to me with too much ease and sincerity. She was convincing enough that I was starting to believe her, and if I hadn’t had a flash of memory, I may still be convinced. She didn’t betray a single mistake as she gaslit me and tried to convince me that my reality was not true.But maybe she doesn’t know everything she said is a lie. If I have been walking around for who knows how long with some type of amnesia, maybe the same is true for her.
[Atlas]None of this feels real. We’ve been searching for Cordelia for over a month now and still haven’t found any solid leads. The police have started to hint that maybe she doesn’t want to be found, that she disappeared intentionally.Their other suggestion is one I don’t want to think about–that she was taken by whoever poisoned her and that she might already be dead. I refused to believe that. I need to believe that she is still out there, with our baby, somewhere safe but hidden, waiting for me to find her. I’ve placed a framed picture of her on our wedding day next to the bed. Every morning I look at it and wonder how things could have been if I had given that shy girl a chance to love me and be loved in return. She was too young to be getting married, only 19. As a bachelor in my 30s, I should have known better. But my grandfather had wanted the match and when Angelica disappeared, her younger sister seemed to be the best option at the time. I promised myself not to ever