This couldn't be happening. It had to be another nightmare, but Alice knew that wasn't the case. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words escaped as she was left completely speechless.
“I'm sorry, Alice. They were in an accident…” Olivia paused as she too struggled to speak. “They… They didn't make it.”
The woman’s eyes started to water, tears streaming down her cheeks. Whereas Alice found herself unable to cry. She was unable to feel anything, as if her emotions had been drained dry from the shock. She was still unable to find the words she needed to express herself as Mrs Mitchell wrapped her arms tightly around her, voice quivering.
“You can stay with us tonight. You don't have to say or do anything if you don't want to, but I'm here for you. You can sleep in Sam's room too. He's there waiting for you.”
Continuing to hug Alice, Olivia tried her best to comfort the girl, but Alice just felt broken. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel. She would never see her parents again and that upset her, but she already knew how it felt to be alone. She no longer had a family. No longer had her mother to tuck her in at night, or a father to read her a bedtime story. She would never ever hear their soothing voices again.
As Alice dwelled on those thoughts, a single, lonely tear rolled down her face. It was only a moment or two before her entire body went limp and she began to wail uncontrollably. She cried as Mrs Mitchell held her. She cried until she had no more energy to go on. She cried until there was nothing left.
Chapter Three: Part of the family.
Alice was practically unresponsive as she took the time to grieve, moping around at the Mitchell house before she found out the full details of what had happened to her parents. She overheard the conversations that Olivia had with her husband Simon on the subject.
The night the Delaneys died, Alice had been out much later than usual, having lost all track of time. Worried about their daughter, Bill and Martha decided to try and find her, setting off in their car to cover more ground than they could on foot. As they were searching up and down the streets, looking around the outskirts of the woodlands, a drunk driver in his red pickup truck swerved, losing control of his vehicle and t-boning the Delaneys right off the road and into a tree. He had survived the crash, but they certainly didn't.
The unidentified alcoholic, who had been tossed out of Josie's Bar earlier that day, was swiftly arrested by the Sheriff's department, but it was already too late. Alice found herself without a family or home and she blamed herself entirely. After all, if she hadn't gone out that evening they wouldn't have gotten in their car to try and find her.
Meanwhile, Sam was trying his best to cheer her up, but was failing at every turn. He was a good friend who knew everything there was to know about her, but Alice didn't need a friend right now. She needed parental guidance and unconditional love.
The Mitchell's invited Alice to move in with them permanently, which she did after some consideration. She had no other known living relatives and nowhere else to go, and so she didn't really have much of a choice. It was as good a place to live as any and Alice knew that she was the only Delaney left. She may have been adopted, but she was figuratively the last in their line.
Having now lived in Birchfield for a large slice of her life, Alice had gotten used to the town, its quirks and the way things worked there. She still missed the farm, but she was now familiar with the ways of civilisation. Despite her love of solitude, she wasn't sure if she could go back to living in such a remote location. It wouldn't have been the same without her parents anyway.
Sam's family always attended church on Sundays and Alice tagged now along too. She had always considered herself a Christian, but had never attended a service before then. It was an eye opening experience and not quite what she had expected. However, spending time with the Mitchells wasn't the same as having her own family, and she never did feel as though she fit in with them completely. For all intents and purposes she was now considered by others to be a member of the Mitchell family, but she retained the Delaney name. As much as she tried to belong, she knew that life would never be the same again.
**********
At sixteen years old, Alice had grown into her body and was feeling gradually more comfortable within her own skin. She was still a relatively plain, but pretty girl who often hid behind the long blond hair that hung loosely around her shoulders, her light blue eyes peering out from beneath. The fair skin of her delicate features was adorned with the odd freckle, with thick, yet defined eyebrows and a slightly upturned nose that lead to her being described as snobbish by the other kids at school, even though that was far from the truth. The mean girls in Alice's grade made her believe that her looks were far below average, but that simply wasn’t true either. Her beautiful smile was quite the sight to behold, although it was never revealed quite as often as it should be.
Standing just over five and a half feet tall, Alice was a naturally slim and slender girl, with an elegant neck and long legs that gave the illusion of her being much taller than she actually was. Moving with a deliberate, yet subtle grace that was almost unnoticeable to most, she gave off an air of confidence that she had learned to fake over the years. Her actions were usually smooth and flowing, with near perfect posture. However, on rare occasions these well practiced movements were replaced with an almost predatory and animalistic gait, as if she forgot how to move like a human for just a moment.
Alice rarely wore make-up, preferring a more natural look. Her sense of style, or lack thereof, leaned towards cheap and low maintenance clothing such as second hand shirts, jeans or old pairs of shoes from the thrift store. She would sometimes wear flowery, summer dresses, with worn sandals or leather boots depending on her mood. The only jewelry she wore was a locket, with a picture of her parents safe inside, stud earrings and plain metal rings with little to no detail. The Mitchell's couldn't afford to dress her in nice clothing, but they still tried the best that they could. Even though they tended to spend as little money on her appearance as possible, Alice was far from filthy. She kept herself clean with bargain soaps and deodorant, that may not have been of the highest quality, but they certainly did the trick.
More than anything, Alice was defined by her imagination and sense of adventure. She was creative, mischievous and bursting with fun. A voracious reader with a keen sense of intellectual curiosity, she used her mind to create entire worlds in which she could escape from the real one. She often blurred the lines between imagination and reality, drawing and writing about her experiences as she went. Sam described her ability as ‘having a second sight’ that could see things that others could not.
As a child, Alice was the one who saw magic in the ordinary, or a different world where there was just a field or forest, and was the one who helped him to see those things too. Otherwise she was a bit of a loner who struggled to fit in with others due to acting odd at times, often getting lost in her vivid daydreams that she was convinced were real.
It had taken years of therapy for Alice to learn to control her feral tendencies. She had once believed that she was completely over them, however on particularly bad days she could still feel the wild instincts lingering in the back of her mind, clawing away and trying to break free. It was this feeling of instability that made her scared of reverting back to her old ways. Alice felt that she could snap at any time, making her a safety risk to others, but she was determined to keep that part of her at bay. But despite this determination, a single mistake or slip up could release what she had hidden beneath the surface of her psyche, destroying everything that she had worked so hard to build.
Even though she had been treated badly by others in town, Alice couldn’t bring it upon herself to treat them the same. She was a good, country girl at heart, who still retained a lot of her innocence. Life without her parents had been extremely difficult for her and she was deeply saddened by their loss, working hard on teaching herself to be independent of others since their passing.
Consi
dered to be exceptionally smart, Alice would never dwell on how people looked, as she was often bullied at school due to her own appearance. She tried her hardest to be polite, with Sam working on making her into a much more outgoing person than she was when she had first moved into town. And Alice herself still strived to be a nice and friendly person with strong morals, a warm personality and a refreshingly dry sense of humour that she didn't get to use as much as Sam would have liked.
Consistently open minded, studious and hardworking, Alice had aspirations of becoming a writer or an artist, as she was drawn to the freedom that they seemed to provide, but often found herself sidetracked by other things due to her short attention span. The girl was very curious and genuinely wanted to know about everything there was to know. This was part of the reason that she was becoming increasingly religious. She counted herself as a Christian, attending Sunday services when she could. She wanted to believe more than anything that her parents were in a better place, watching over her and everything she did. She wanted them to be proud of her.
Without her best friend, Alice's childhood in Birchfield would have been miserable. Sam was always full of courage when she was afraid and had changed her life for the better, there was no question about that.
Sam Mitchell was a little closer to normality than his friend. He was a few inches shorter than her and still fairly skinny as he had barely filled out over the years due to his fast metabolism. He had tried to build muscle mass, but despite his vague attempts at working out, nothing really changed. He was fortunate enough not to suffer from acne, but any endeavors to grow facial hair ended up patchy at best, which resulted in him remaining clean shaven.
Sam had progressed from glasses to contacts, using gel on his short hair to spike it up. This was combined with his brand new style of open plaid shirts displaying a tank top underneath and low hanging jeans over old army boots. It was as if he was still trying to find his image in the typical teenage manner. He was attempting to find the type of look that would define him as a person.
There was a tiredness in Sam's eyes that was ever present. He was weary from the constant nightmares that he experienced on a nightly basis and felt as though they were quietly driving him insane. To the outside observer he was the same old Sam he had always been. Brave, adventurous and full of character. He managed to contain his demons, hiding them from everyone, including Alice. She had no idea that he was suffering so much. Not because she didn't care about him, but because he had become so skilled at building a wall around his thoughts. To her he was happy go lucky and the one bright, shining light in her life.
Just like Alice, Sam was labeled as a loser by the other kids at school. However unlike her, he just didn't care what people thought of him and so it never affected him negatively. However, he would sometimes get into fights while trying to defend Alice's honour when she was picked on, but would always end up being the one going home with the brunt of the bruises.
As for Sam's feelings towards his best friend, they too had grown and changed over the years. He had more than a platonic interest in her now and had come to love her as more than a friend, but he didn't want to ruin their special relationship by telling her about it, as she didn't appear to see him in the same light. It was more than a physical attraction for him, even though he still thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the world. He adored everything about her. Her intelligence and imagination. Her smile, her smell, her silky hair and the subtle curves of her figure. She was his ideal girl. His perfect woman. The full package.
Sam wasn't religious like the rest of his family. His mother and father would preach the word of God, saying grace at dinner and praying before going to sleep, but he did his best to ignore it all. The more of the supernatural world he saw, the less he believed in a singular god. Sure there could be powerful beings who claimed to be deities, but he refused to believe that there was one specific 'true’ god. He liked to think of himself as an atheist, but would never force those beliefs upon others. Especially on to Alice, who had found some solace in her beliefs. It was just part of who he was now. A believer without religion.
**********
Wortham Manor was a large house, built upon a hill, centered in the middle of ten acres of land just a couple of miles outside of town. Built by Maxwell and Victoria Wortham in 1856, it was one of the first stately homes in the area. The Wortham’s themselves were early settlers and the descendants of a wealthy English family, hailing from the north eastern colonies. They had decided to make the pilgrimage following the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854, bringing with them a small entourage of servants and slaves.
Compared to some of the richer homes further south, the manor wasn't quite so grand in scale. It was built entirely from wood, with one master bedroom, two guest rooms and some servants quarters. It also boasted a kitchen, dining room, living room, study, wine cellar and a modest sized library. There was nothing particularly important or interesting about the house itself. In fact it was pretty standard for the period in which it was constructed. However, Wortham Manor was made infamous amongst the local populace through a murderous series of events.
In 1871, fifteen years after the manor was founded, Victoria Wortham was accused of witchcraft and subsequently put on trial. It wasn't long before she was unfairly declared guilty and executed by burning at the stake. What wasn't revealed until years later was that the the person who spread the rumour and started the chain of accusations was her husband, Maxwell Wortham himself. He had been having an affair with one of the maids and wanted his wife out of the picture. What he didn't count on was his dead wife's angry spirit seeking vengeance on all those involved.
The details in the records were sketchy at best, but in the weeks that followed her murder, the majority of staff within the house either fled, went insane or committed suicide in the most horrific of ways. The priest who had judged the trial disappeared and was never heard from again. As for Maxwell, it took years to find all his body parts that were hidden within all the nooks and crannies of the estate.
It was said that the manor remained haunted long after, with the tormented wails of its former occupants ringing out as they were hunted down by Victoria Wortham, acting out her bloody revenge night after night, for all eternity. It was never made clear whether or not she actually was a witch, but in the end it really wasn't of much consequence. The house had remained abandoned ever since, falling into disrepair with no one to maintain its upkeep.
Sam and Alice would sometimes make the journey to Wortham Manor with the goal of exploring the dilapidated grounds and possibly glimpsing a ghost. They told Simon and Olivia that they were going camping and that they just wanted to enjoy nature, taking supplies with them to maintain their cover. They would spend the night there listening to the melodic vocals of Alice's favourite alternative rock band, telling ghost stories and waiting to see the things that went bump in the night.
The pair never did see a spirit, but they could swear that objects moved when they weren't looking. Doors would slam without so much as a draft and the floorboards would creak as if someone was walking by. Alice always felt as though they were being watched, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck as the moisture from someone's breath tickled her skin.
The living room with the open stone fireplace where they spent most of their time was the only place in the house left fully intact. The roof had collapsed in on over half the building, with the sections that were still standing being used as roosts and nesting grounds for birds of multiple species. One corner within the remainder of attic had become the home of a small colony of bats. The wine cellar wasn't left unscathed either, with a heavy infestation of rats and cockroaches.
The accumulation of animals left the manor smelling musty with rot and decay. For that reason, most people found the manor to be disgusting and none of the locals dared approach due to the threat of disease, which meant that it was the perfect hideout for two teenage outcasts.
The land had been on sale
for years, but there were never any serious buyers or offers. The building itself was now considered to be an eyesore, but Alice and Sam found the place intriguing. It was a place to explore and simply enjoy each other's company away from prying eyes. At least the eyes of the living.
On one such night, while the pair were telling their stories as per usual, they overheard the distant sounds of chanting and the smell of incense that had carried through the air on a breeze. Rushing to the windows and peering out from between the boards, they could see a procession of robed individuals that were holding burning torches aloft as they marched past the base of the hill and across the bare fields.
Eager to discover what exactly was going on, Sam lead Alice away from the chairs that sat by the fireplace and out through the rickety front door. They moved discreetly down the hill, using stealth and guile to follow the assembly. Staying low to the ground as they crossed open areas, the pair dropped down to lie on their bellies when one of the hooded figures turned their head.
Once they had made it from the field to the trees beyond, the task only increased in difficulty. They had to avoid sticks, leaves and anything else on the ground that could rustle or snap, alerting the group to their presence. Something that proved to be impossible.
The chanting could be heard clearly now, but the language that was being spoken was a mystery. Neither Alice, nor Sam could make out the words. The procession itself was made up of at least nine robed figures, all dressed in black except for one. The ringleader who guided the group through the woods wore a cloak that was red like blood, with one hand holding their flame high as the other clutched a leather bound tome that hung by their side.
The Beast Inside Page 5