Sunday: October 28, 2007
Who: Adam and Constance
When: Late Evening
Where: The Alexie Cottage
What: Constance just can't catch a break, can she?

Adam's world had been turned upside down for the past few weeks as he dealt with the murder of Simon Myles and the suffocating weight of not being able to talk to anyone about it. His feet were leading him back home, back toward his cottage shared with Constance. He needed to talk to someone about it, and the only person he could talk to about it was the very person who had put him into this compromising position.

He opened the front door just in time to see her walking from one room to another. Constance paused in mid-walk, a book held aloft in one of her hands. She paused suddenly, staring at Adam as he stood in the doorway. Silence passed between them as he stared back at her. Finally, Adam stepped into the house and let the door close quietly behind himself.

"Hello," he ventured to say. One little word, but it took so much effort to get him to say it. Adam took a deep breath and tried to relax the pressure weighing down on his chest like a physical ache.

"Well, hey there," Constance said softly. Her hand holding the book fell down to her side, and she moved carefully to go sit on the couch in the living room. "What brings you here, stranger?" she joked. Adam knew that tone. She was trying to help him relax, embodying a soothing and collected exterior that was the epitome of everything against Constance's true nature. She was a firecracker always alight, ready to reach the end of her fuse and massively explode in a array of emotions at any moment. Adam didn't know people very well, but he knew Constance better than his own heartbeat.

"You lied to me," Adam said plainly, though his voice was tinged with pain.

Constance was silent. She was probably trying to read him. This was new territory for them both. "About what?" she finally asked.

"About Simon," Adam told her, his voice so quiet. Constance looked down at her lap, but she didn't try to say anything. "You told me he was the one who attacked Alicia," Adam continued. "You said there was evidence. We just needed a confession. You said it was him, and that we had to punish him." Adam's face was torn between various emotions, all of which showed upon his pained features. "And you used me," he whispered across the infinite distance between them. "You used me to get to him. To hurt him. You lied to me, so I would do it. You knew I would trust you. That I wouldn't question you. That I'd do it. For you."

Constance didn't speak. He knew she wasn't speaking because it was all true, and this only confirmed the whirling thoughts inside of his head. It was true.

"You used me," Adam echoed, and it sounded as if he were about to cry. All of the trust he put into her, and she played him like a fiddle for her own benefit and twisted belief.

"I thought he did it," Constance said in low tones. He could hear the grating sound of her words coming through her teeth. "Everything pointed to him, and I thought if you were sure, we could beat a confession out of him—"

"But he didn't do it, and you were wrong."

Constance looked up at Adam. "People are wrong from time to time, Adam. Most of all, people lie from time to time, too. Even me."

"But I trusted you," Adam countered.

"You can still trust me, Adam," Constance said, getting up from the couch. "I'm your . . . I'm your mother, goddammit, and you can trust me. I made a mistake, I admit it. But that doesn't make me some horrible person you can't understand—"

"No," Adam interrupted her, "I understand." He did understand, too. He knew why Constance did what she did, but it didn't help things. It only made them worse. Adam wished he didn't understand because then there wouldn't be this big gaping hole inside of him, eating away at him. "I understand, and I wish didn't."

"We're still a family. We're still the same—"

"No, we're not." Adam shook his head at her, backing up towards the door. "We're not the same anymore. Things are different." Adam took a deep breath and exhaled through his parted lips. Having this conversation was easy, and yet it hard on him. Physically, he was capable of it. Emotionally, it was breaking him down inside and destroying everything he believed to be true. "I think I should move out," he said. "Maybe spend some time elsewhere for a while. Maybe we should . . . spend time apart."

"Adam—"

"I'll get my things tomorrow," he said softly, turning his back towards her and opening the door. As he pulled it open, he heard Constance hurrying towards him. Her firecracker was about to go off. She reached for his shoulder, and Adam suddenly transformed and vanished into the floor, disappearing completely out of Constance's sight.

He didn't leave right away. The elemental lingered in the floor, in the wall, just long enough to hear what he thought might have been Constance crying.

Adam transmuted out of the wall and into his human form again, walking away from the Alexie cottage with a hole inside of his heart.