The Broken Trilogy

by Amy Cross

  Stepping closer, he puts his arms around me and pulls me tight. The bright lights of London traffic roar past as we embrace for a moment, and then finally Mark steps back.

  "Come on," he says, "let's get out of here. You've shown me part of your London, now it's time for me to show you part of mine". With that, he takes my hand and leads me along the street.

  As we walk past a bus-stop, I catch sight of our reflection, and I can't help but notice that we look like a normal couple. Just a guy and a girl, out in the city for food and a few drinks. No-one would ever know that there was anything unusual about us, and that we'd met as part of some arcane and perverted game. I'm starting to think that the days of Mr. Blue are finally over.

  Jonathan Pope

  1901

  "If you could hear me," I say, sitting in the darkness, "I think you'd understand. You'd know why I'm making this choice, and you'd approve. I lost track of how many times you reminded me that it's only the child who matters now. Not me. Not you. Just the child. If he or she can live a full, happy life, free of the game and free of the knowledge that we were such twisted people, then at least some good can come of everything. When I was able to just focus on that fact, the decision came easily. I'm just sorry that it has to be like this".

  I wait, hoping for some kind of reply. Henrietta is still on the bed, breathing fast and struggling with an increasing fever. Since we arrived at the King's Arms a few months ago, she's dipped in and out of the fever, although she's never recovered sufficiently to talk to me. It's as if, in the aftermath of everything that happened with the box and the heart of the game, Henrietta's body has shut down. I'd give anything for one final moment of clarity, just so that I could tell her that I truly love her. Despite everything that happened between us, I'm still not sure whether I actually said those words. Dear God, I hope that I told her before it was too late.

  "He promises it won't take too long," I continue. "He says it'll be as painless as possible. He's not exactly the world's greatest surgeon, but he's better than nothing. He's going to give you something to help numb your body, and he's going to end things as quickly as possible once the baby is out. After that, I was thinking to bury you in the park near my old house. I always wanted to take you there, but I never had the chance. It's a very quiet spot, and I'm sure no-one will ever find you. It's better than dropping you into the Thames. I couldn't bear to let you sink into the depths along with all those other bodies".

  Silence.

  "Dear God," I whisper, closing my eyes, "I'm begging you. If you have to take someone, take me. Just make sure that this woman is delivered from whatever curse is driving her toward death. Spare her and end my life instead. She deserves more, and the child deserves to know its mother".

  Hearing a sound over by the door, I turn and see that John the Pig has arrived. Eager to get on with the operation, he has an earnest look in his eyes, and I realize with a trembling heart that the time has come. I look back at Henrietta and reach out, feeling the sweat on her brow. She's burning up, and the heat is so extreme that I'm finding it hard to believe that she's still alive.

  "It's the end now," I tell her, "but while I shall go on living in this foul and shallow world, you are about to pass on to paradise and immortality. I can only pray that one day we shall be reunited, even though I know in my heart that I have committed many, many sins in the past. Whatever happens, I beg that your soul will be given some form of relief in whatever world you reach".

  "We need to get started," John the Pig mutters as he heads over to the tray and starts to assemble his instruments. "It's up to you whether or not you want to stay, but I'd advise against it. There's going to be a lot of blood, Mr. Pope, and it's my reasoning that a man such as yourself is perhaps a little unused to such things. I mean, I know you've killed your fair share of men over the years, but I doubt you've ever stuck around to watch them bleed out, have you?"

  "I should be with her," I say, taking her sweaty, clammy hand and holding it tight.

  "She won't know," he continues, coming over to the bed with a saw in his hand. "She's so far gone, she won't even understand what we're doing. She hasn't responded to anything I've done while I've been examining her".

  "She might," I say quietly. "I shall stay. I want my face to be the first thing that the child sees".

  "Suit yourself," he replies, pulling Henrietta's skirt back and cutting her underwear away. "I'm going to try to get it out the normal way first," he says after a moment. "From what I've read, the woman's usually supposed to push, but I don't suppose she'll be able to do that. Therefore -" He holds the saw up. "I've been checking on the anatomy books, and I think the best course of action is to saw her pelvis open in two spots, and then kind of maneuver the child out".

  I stare at the teeth of the saw, barely able to conceive of such barbarity. Have we come no further, as a species, than acts of savagery? I can't help but wish that I were the kind of man who could call upon favors from the greatest physicians of the age. I'm quite certain that members of the nobility never have to face such horrors. Why are such fools allowed to live happy, pain-free lives, while good women such as Henrietta are subjected to the savage medicine of men such as John the Pig?

  "No time like the present," he says, moving around to get a better view of his target. "It's not gonna hurt any less in an hour. It might even hurt more, if her condition deteriorates".

  "Have you no sedatives?" I ask. "No pain-killers?"

  "Oh, I don't need any of that," he replies merrily. "I'm feeling fine".

  "I meant for her".

  "She can't feel pain now. Look at her. She's pretty much gone already".

  "And you're sure you won't harm the child?" I continue. "Surely there's a danger that -"

  "Mr. Pope," he replies with a sigh, "I'd like to remind you that I'm the doctor here. I've assured you that the child will be safe, and you can count on my word. All you need to do is get ready to hold the baby. You should probably rush it from the room as soon as you're able, and give it a quick wash. I don't really know why, but I've read that people do that". Positioning the edge of the saw against the inner side of Henrietta's crotch, he pauses for a moment. "She probably won't react," he says eventually, "but I suppose it's possible she might have a little twitch. If she does, just hold her down, okay?"

  I nod.

  "Don't interrupt, and for God's sake don't try to stop me. If you do, I'm liable to cause far more damage".

  I nod again.

  "Alright," he says, taking a deep breath. "Here we go, then".

  With no further warning, he grinds the saw straight through the flesh and bone of Henrietta's pelvis. As he does so, blood sprays into his face, and a fraction of a second later Henrietta sits up from the bed and lets out the most agonized scream I've ever heard in my life.

  Elly

  Today

  Walking with Mark across Waterloo Bridge, watching the night lights reflected in the darkness of the Thames, I find myself struck by a surprising thought.

  This is perfect.

  Right now, life with Mark is perfect. Sure, I'm recovering from a heart attack, and sure, until recently I suspected that my boyfriend was involved in a series of murders. But slowly, subtly, everything seems to have shifted a little, the world has turned on its axis, and for the first time since I met Mark I'm starting to really see a future for us. It's weird, looking back at those first heady days when I came back to London for my father's funeral, remembering the way Mark came cannon-balling into my life. So much has changed in such a short period of time. As we reach the middle of the bridge, I realize that it wasn't long ago that Mark was speeding along this very street, with me in the passenger seat of his car, en route to an accident that almost destroyed everything.

  So much has happened since that night. I abandoned him, and then I came back. We went to Zurich, and then we came back and things seemed to be close to collapse. When the police started asking questions about Carrie, I really thought I'd have to leave Mark
. The terrible night with Jess only made things worse, followed by my encounter with Mr. White and, finally, the heart attack. I feel as if I went beyond my limits, and yet somehow I've found my way back to sanity. Given the nightmare of recent weeks, I'm finding it hard to believe that the storm clouds have suddenly cleared.

  "I know this must be the fourth or fifth time I've asked this tonight," he says, stopping for a moment and turning to me, "but what are you thinking? I mean, what are you really thinking, Elly?"

  "I'm thinking..." I pause, and slowly I realize that all my fears and worries are gone. Maybe I'm being an idiot, and maybe I'm allowing myself to be manipulated, but I figure I can't allow myself to be paranoid forever. At some point, everyone has to take a leap of faith, and right now I have faith in Mark. I've never been the kind of person who's desperate for a relationship, or who wants to run head-first into marriage and children, but right now, right here, I know that I want to be with him for the rest of my life. "Is the game really over?" I ask eventually. "Are you free?"

  He nods.

  "And they won't come looking for you? Lady Red and Mr. White won't try to pull you back in?"

  He shakes his head.

  "And I'm free too?"

  "You were always free," he replies.

  "It didn't always feel like that".

  "You could have walked away at any moment," he continues. "I was always careful to remind you of that, Elly. The rules of the game are very clear, and everything that happens, everything you do, only has any value if it's done voluntarily. You always had total freedom to leave the game".

  "And you didn't?" I ask.

  "It's not like that".

  "Then what's it like?"

  He pauses. "When you take on a position as Mr. Blue or Mr. White or Lady Red, you're committing to play a very different role. You become an extension of the game. I didn't understand it at the time. I thought it'd be fun when I started. It was only later that I came to realize how the game truly works, and by that point I'd already come too far. That's the one disagreement I ever had with Lady Red. She insisted I was fully informed of my responsibilities as part of the game, right from the start, whereas I felt that my decision to get involved wasn't necessarily an informed choice. It was quite a while before I realized that no-one can ever be truly prepared for the game. No-one can comprehend it from the outside. The best you can do is spot the traces".

  "How did you get involved in the first place?"

  He smiles awkwardly. "That's a very long story. I was just in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on your point of view. I was just this kid, really, backpacking around Europe, and I'd pretty much run out of money when..." He pauses, as if he's reliving a painful memory. "I met Lady Red in France, just outside Nice. I don't know why, but she seemed to take a shine to me. The rest is history. For the past five years, I've been part of the game. At the same time, Lady Red's contacts helped me to get my business off the ground. That's really why I got involved in the first place. I needed some backing, and it came with conditions. As with everything, it came down to money". He stares at me for a moment. "I never thought I'd meet someone like you through the game. Someone..."

  I wait for him to finish.

  "Never mind," he says eventually.

  "What were you going to say?" I ask.

  He pauses.

  "Maybe you should ask me again," I say suddenly, feeling my chest tighten as I realize I've gone past the point of no return.

  "Ask you what?"

  "The question you asked me the other day".

  For a moment, he seems confused, and then finally I see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Really?" he asks, looking shocked.

  I nod, unable to hide a smile.

  He glances over his shoulder, as if he's making sure that we're alone. After a few seconds, he gets down onto one knee and looks up at me.

  I take a deep breath. The truth is, I can't stop grinning like an idiot.

  "Elly Bradshaw," he says slowly, as if he's picking each word with great care. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

  I pause.

  The whole city seems to slow down and become silent. Even the Thames has stopped flowing while it waits for my answer.

  "Yes," I say eventually, and in the fraction of a second it takes for the word to leave my lips, the entire world changes. "Yes," I say again, with tears in my eyes as I start to laugh. "Yes, I'll marry you. I'll be your wife. Yes!"

  Standing up, he stares at me for a moment before pulling me closer and kissing me. It's the softest, most gentle kiss I've ever felt, but at the same time it's filled with an entirely new level of passion. It's as if the kiss itself is sealing some kind of secret, unspoken agreement between us. For what feels like an eternity, we continue to kiss on the bridge, until finally he pulls back. I know I should hold back and be more cautious, but at the same time I'm filled with the sense that this moment is perfect.

  "Say it again," he whispers.

  "What?"

  "Your answer".

  "Yes".

  He smiles, and I can tell that it's a genuine smile. I don't know how I ever managed to doubt Mark. Sure, he got caught up in the game, and maybe he made some mistakes, but now that I've got through to the real man at his core, I can see that he's a good person. I'm not fooling myself. I'm seeing the truth, perhaps for the first time ever.

  "You know this isn't going to be perfect, right?" he continues. "We have money. That's not a problem. But even so, life can never be perfect. Marriage isn't a cure for everything. There'll be difficult times for both of us, and we have to face them together".

  "I know".

  "And I don't want the kind of wife who just sits around and does nothing all day. You're going to go back to university and finish your course, right?" He smiles. "Don't start thinking you're going to live a life of luxury, being fed grapes and wafted with palm trees. You're going to have a life of your own. It's only healthy. You're not going to be a lady of leisure".

  "Totally," I say, even though I hadn't even thought about my old life in Bristol. Going back would feel like a retreat, and I don't even know how to be the 'old' Elly Bradshaw. I've become a completely different person. "I guess I might transfer to London, though," I add. "I don't really want to go and spend any more time in Bristol. Not when..." I pause, and once again I can't resist a slightly goofy grin. "Not when my fiance, my future husband, is right here". Swallowing hard, I reach out and prod his chest with a finger. "My. Husband," I say again, and the words send a shiver through my body.

  "I have to go to Singapore next week," he replies. "Just for a few days. You're welcome to come, but it's just going to be a long series of meetings. Very boring stuff, mostly about concrete and various other types of construction material. If you'd rather stay here in the penthouse, we can go to Singapore properly later in the year. Maybe we can go and see the Grand Prix? It's a beautiful city, and there's so much I'd love to show you. We can take an extended honeymoon".

  "Sounds great," I reply, barely able to get my head around everything that's happening. Suddenly I feel as if I'm drowning, as if there are a million things to think about. Damn it, I need a much bigger brain.

  "Then we need to start thinking about the wedding," he continues. "Money's no object, obviously, but I fully understand if you want to have the ceremony somewhere nearby, so your family can attend".

  "My family?" I reply, before suddenly realizing that I need to get in touch with my mother. She's going to completely freak out when she finds out that I'm engaged, especially when she discovers the identity of my fiance. She's met Mark, of course, and I know she likes him; then again, she might be a little surprised when she learns that he and I have been dating and that we're now going to get married. I can't help but feel a pang of regret when I realize that my father didn't live to see me reach this moment.

  "Don't worry," Mark says, putting his arm around me and holding me close as we continue our walk acr
oss the bridge. "We'll get it all sorted out. As long as we're married at the end of it all, I'm happy to let you deal with the details".

  When we get home, we make love. Since I'm still recovering from my heart attack, we keep things slow, and as a result there's more passion than I've ever experienced before. Mark strips me naked, his fingers rubbing against my skin as he eventually slips my underwear down. After all the strange and unusual positions we've tried over the past few months, it's strangely satisfying to make love in such a simple way. There are no candles. There's no music. No props. I just open my legs and let him enter me, and he starts to slowly go deeper than I've ever felt him go before. All I can do is reach around and place my hands on his warm, well-toned back and feel the caged power that's lurking in his every muscle. I know he could be pushing me much further, and pounding me so much harder, but he's holding back. Every touch, and every kiss, is alive with the thought of all the force he's holding back.

  I climax first, gripping him tight between my legs as I feel my body getting tenser and tenser. Finally, I let out a brief grunt as I feel the ecstasy spread through my body. Mark continues to move slowly inside my body, and the orgasm seems to last forever. Finally, when I'm done, he rolls onto his back and I start to pleasure him with my hands and mouth. Again, I take things very slowly, teasing and tempting him, pulling back every time I realize he's on the verge of pleasure. I kiss the shaft of his penis as I continue to stroke him, and eventually I start to flick the tip with my tongue as I move my hand down to cup his balls. After a few minutes of stimulating the head of his penis, I wrap my fingers around the shaft and start to jerk him off with firm, tight strokes; sure enough, within a few seconds, he reaches orgasm. His whole body tenses as his penis erupts with thick white semen, the first few wads of which fly onto the bed before the rest starts to run down and onto my hand. Eventually, I lean closer and lick his shiny skin, and when I taste some of him in my mouth, I instinctively swallow.