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When Lucia finally gets back to the single-room living quarters she's been provided, it's dark, she's exhausted, and the sound of Elizabeth's cries has been filling her ears for several feet now.
Closing the door eliminates most of the moonlight that filled the room; only a sliver remained, crawling out of the single window and hitting the left wall, highlighting nothing in particular. Elizabeth was in the crib-turned-bed Mr. Hartmann had made for her, sobbing. Lucia sighed quietly. She shoved her coat off.
“It's alright, Liz,” she murmured. “Mom's here. Mom's here.”
Elizabeth cried a little softer.
“You must be hungry, hm? Mom's been out for a while, hasn't she?” Lucia continued. She crouched, facing a drawer that was pushed against the wall and opening it. Inside was all of Lucia and Elizabeth's essentials– cloth diapers Elizabeth was probably slightly too old for, clothing not being worn by either girls, knives, rags, food, candles, matches.
Lucia set a candle, a match, a knife, bread, and jam on the top of the counter. She lit the match, and was immediately glad. The light was a reminder that she had time for Elizabeth, and for herself. Besides, the warmth was comforting in the harsh cold of winter.
The knife sliced through the bread (which she stole from Miss Hudson about a week ago) easily. It was funny, how both jobs she had– mother and killer– had the same tools with the same motion. She sighed again and dipped the knife into the grape jam (also stolen from Miss Hudson), then spread it evenly across the flat side of the bread slice. Lucia's own stomach growled, but she ignored it. Elizabeth came first, always, and she forever will.
As soon as Lucia turned around, her eyes caught sight of a man sitting on the chair by the bed, just outside of the moonlight. Fear immediately shot through her. This stranger–! How long were they here? Alone with Elizabeth? Is that why she was crying? Is– No.
No, wait. This wasn't a stranger at all.
It was Jesse St. James.
She relaxed only slightly. The bread in her hand was indented with her fingerprints. A thick drop of jam dropped to the floor. She narrowed her eyes, huffed, stuck her nose in the air, and walked to Elizabeth. If she ignored the problem, maybe it would go away. That was her policy for dealing with her problems– if she couldn't run away, of course.
“Is there a reason why you're here?” Lucia asked, handing the bread over to her daughter. Elizabeth took the bread gratefully and ate it slowly, savoring it, just like she's always done. Lucia smiled at her and wiped her daughter's soft, tear stained cheek with her thumb.
“Is there a reason why you're speaking to me like that?” Jesse fired back. She turned around to face him. In the dim, flickering candlelight, she could see him with his eyebrows raised and the beginnings of a smirk forming. That stupid look on his face made Lucia's late night meeting with Samuel worth it. She glared for a long moment before returning to the drawer. Jesse laughed, and her grip on the knife she was putting away tightened.
“Where have you been, Lucia?” Jesse asked. Lucia could hear the chair creaking as he leaned forward.
She swallowed. There was a right answer here, but it wasn't the one she was going to say. Of course not. She can't admit that she was helping an enemy, that she was painting over the target that was put on Samuel's back specifically by Jesse. She'd be dead by morning if she did, and then Elizabeth would be all alone.
“I don't see how this is your business,” she replied, keeping her voice as even as she could. She returned the bread to its spot– but not after considering slicing a piece for herself before deciding the little that was left had to go to Elizabeth.
A low scoff from behind her told her how dissatisfied Jesse was with that response. “I'm your employer, Lucy, and your superior.” Lucia's jaw clenched. She wished she hadn't put away the knife first. “Therefore, your whereabouts are my business. If you take issue with that, you don't have to work for me. Nobody is forcing you. You could leave and be back on the street with nothing but a baby you can hardly take care of and the clothes on your back.”
Lucia hangs her head. For the briefest moment, Jesse sounded just like her father. Her shoulders are tense and high. Her ears are aflame. Her hands are wrapped around the jar of jelly so hard she thinks the glass might break. She would be grateful if it did. That meant she would have something to kill Jesse with. A stab in the right place would do the trick, and she'd slit enough throats to know exactly where an artery was.
She hears Elizabeth stop chewing for a moment. She looks over at her; the bread is still in her hand, and the glance Lucia gave her is enough for her to feel comfortable to continue to eat. Lucia wasn't sure what her face looked like, but she knew it said, ‘eat up, Liz, don't mind his ramblings.’
“I'll ask you again,” Jesse continued. “Where have you been?”
“I've been out,” she replied simply. She forced her body to relax. Tension wasn't good for anybody. It only made the inevitable explosion more intense.
“Out? How specific,” he quipped. “What were you doing when you were out?”
“I was doing the job you assigned to me,” Lucia replied, looking at Jesse from over her shoulder. She hoped her steady tone was enough to convince him, but, when she saw his sickeningly animalistic smile forming, she knew it hadn't.
“Is that so?”
Lucia nodded. She felt sticky sweat beginning to form on her face despite the winter's coldness, and she wasn't sure if it was from how close she was to the candle or from how close she was to being found out.
“Huh.” He leaned back in the chair, making it creak again. His face had a bewildered look on it that Lucia immediately recognized as fake. “That's quite interesting, because I just saw Matthew walking around the town square. So, unless he has an identical brother, I severely doubt you're telling me the truth, Lucy.”
Lucia's expression tightened.
“Do you want to try again, Lucy?” Jesse whispered, grinning.
“Matthew living another day will not ruin the operation,” Lucia replied after a moment of silence. She turned around to fully face Jesse. “I had other business to attend to first.”
“Such as stealing food from innocent, single old women?”
Lucia scowled. Her stomach grumbled again, making Jesse bark out a laugh. He crossed one leg, resting his foot on the opposite knee.
“That's a no, then,” he laughed. “What are you spending so much time doing, then? You've been away for, what, three hours today. And your little brat has been crying and crying and crying…”
She stepped forward. Her voice lowered. “I'm not hurting your cause, if that's what you're concerned about,” she hissed. She prayed her false confidence would carry her lie. “And neither is Li– Elizabeth.”
Jesse's smile dropped. His eyes met Lucia's. She shivered despite herself; she told herself it was from the cold. She watched his hand move towards his waist. One of her feet stepped backwards slightly.
“I don't tolerate liars, Lucy,” Jesse chided. “You know this. We have discussed this. I thought our mutual hatred connected us. That was a lie, too, wasn't it? You've been letting your poor little Lizzy be home all alone while you converse with the enemy. That's what you're doing, isn't it? Warning him, perhaps? That's why all of the men I've sent for him haven't come back, hm?”
Lucia didn't have anything to say. Denying it would get her in worse trouble. It was bad enough that she could feel Elizabeth's big eyes staring at her; she could practically sense her own body soaking up her daughter's fear. Such is the job of a mother, Lucia mused.
Jesse hummed, dissatisfied. He sighed. Clicked his tongue. Lucia's face flushed. No matter how old she got, being a disappointment always stung. Even if she was disappointed somebody she didn't even like.
She turned her head to look at Elizabeth. Her face, with her slightly too defined cheekbones and wet eyes, was proof that disappointing somebody was worth it. Had she not upset both of her parents, she wouldn't have been able to raise Elizabeth– not that she had the time to properly raise her now. But she would. And she would give her a better life than Elizabeth's grandparents ever could. She smiled at her daughter. Their time would come. Elizabeth's time would come.
Her daughter's head snapping to look at Jesse, Elizabeth's whimper, and the sound of fabric rustling snapped Lucia out of her thoughts. She turned her head.
And found herself staring at a gun, the metal almost beautifully shiny in the streak of moonlight.
Immediately, Lucia stepped back. Her hands scrambled for the cabinet. If she was fast enough, she could grab the knife from the drawer. A knife wouldn't do much against a bullet, but at least she could die knowing she put up a fight, right?
Wait. A fight. That's what Jesse loved. Lucia's been present for enough of his executions to know. His victims stand in town square bloodied and bruised, and Jesse is much the same most of the time. It's why he was so enthralled with Samuel, she was sure of it. That boy could fight. Lucia knew.
“You won't,” Lucia spat. Despite herself, her voice shook. She tried to be confident. Being scared was what Jesse wanted, and it wouldn't do her any good. The last thing she wanted was for Jesse to have fun killing her– in front of her daughter, no less. From the corner of her eye, she saw Elizabeth hiding under her thin blanket, her eyes just barely peeking out. She was frightening her. She took in a deep breath.
“Do you really think that, Lucy?” Jesse questioned. His finger was centimeters away from the trigger. Lucia felt beads of sweat dripping down her forehead, sliding down the sharp cheekbones her daughter mimicked. “That I won't?”
Lucia saw his finger moved. She tensed. Her arms flew to her face, shielding her. Her legs gave out beneath her, partially to help her get to the drawer better and partially because she couldn't control them. She sucked in a breath.
“Mama!”
She mentally said her goodbyes to Elizabeth. She asked God to let her into Heaven.
She felt nothing. No red-hot bullet piercing through her. No pain. No earache from the terrible noise. Nothing.
Slowly, she peeled her arms away from her face. The gun wasn't smoking. She turned her head around to find there was no hole in the wall. She turned back around to stare up at Jesse.
He was laughing at her. Loudly. Openly. Humiliatingly.
Shakily, she stood. She brushed her secondhand pants off. Her eyes were locked onto the ground. Mildly tanned cheeks burned. “I knew you wouldn't,” she muttered. She glanced back at him. He was putting his gun away. “You hate killing like that.”
“You're right,” he replied. The chair creaked one final time as he stood. “I do.”
Lucia kept her gaze on the wooden floor. She shuffled to the side so Jesse could pass by easier.
“Oh, one more thing,” Jesse said, perking up. He was right by the door, standing next to Lucia. She hesitantly looked back at him.
Before Lucia could blink, a big, too-warm hand was wrapped around her throat. It forced her head to hit the wall and her hips to collide with the top of the cabinet. One of her hands scrambled to steady herself and the drawer while the other clawed at Jesse's arm. The pressure was nearly suffocating, but not quite. She could still draw in gasping breaths. This wasn't intended to kill, but that didn't relax her. Not when she could hear Elizabeth quietly begging Jesse to let go of her mama.
“You need to stop taking so many impromptu outings,” Jesse ordered, his voice low. “It doesn't help anybody. Not you, not me, not Elizabeth. You really should take care of her more. What kind of mother are you, Lucy? You leave your kid to cry all day only to be a nasty gossip with a boy who couldn't care less about you.”
Lucia's fingers dug further into Jesse's skin, and his fingers pressed deeper into her throat.
“You should stay here more. She's quieter with you.” Lucia saw Jesse glance at her with that sickening smile of his. He turned back to her. “If you don't find the time to keep her quiet, somebody else will find a way to silence her.”
The sound of fabric moving got her attention again. Her eyes dropped to Jesse's waist again. His hand was resting on his gun. Lucia shuddered. His smile grew.
Just as suddenly as it was there, the hand was off of her throat. She remained leaned against the cabinet, panting, eyes closed. She heard Jesse leave. She couldn't remember being more grateful for the lack of his presence.
“...Mama?”
Lucia looked up. Elizabeth was staring at her. Lucia grinned warmly. She ran a hair through her choppily cut hair and approached her daughter. She crouched to be on her level, then cupped her cheek with her hand.
“Mom's okay,” she cooed. “You're okay, too, Liz.”
She placed a gentle kiss on Elizabeth's forehead. It was foolish to think, and she knew it, but she wished her kiss could wipe all memory of this night from Elizabeth's mind. She was a child. Worrying about this sort of thing wasn't for anybody, much less a child.
Lucia stood. She held a hand out for Elizabeth, and her daughter hesitantly took it.
“Why don't you and I sleep together, hm, Liz? Would that make you feel better?”
Elizabeth nodded. Lucia smiled.
“Go on, then. I'll be right there in a moment. Get yourself comfortable.”
Another nod. Lucia watched her daughter scurry to the bed and tuck herself under the covers. The bed was just slightly too small for the both of them, but it was fine. It didn't matter. Being together was what mattered. Elizabeth's comfort was what mattered. Besides, she had to make this night up to her somehow.