by Amy Cross
He stares at me, before looking down at my heart in his hand. Slowly, he opens his fist, before letting the heart's pulpy remains slip to the floor. It's as if he doesn't care; as if my heart is just a piece of meat to be tossed aside. His hands are covered in fresh, sticky blood, but perhaps he doesn't see my blood as having any value.
"Is that it?" I ask, feeling myself slowly becoming filled with a kind of cold rage. Since I pulled my heart out, I've begun to feel icy, and I feel that my beautiful skin is starting to go dry. "Is that your answer? You'd rather have no daughter? You'd rather die like a pathetic old childless fool? Am I really so absolutely awful? Can't you even contemplate the possibility of loving me? Can't you look at me the way you look at Abigail? What's she got that I haven't? Why does she get everything you've denied to me? You left me to rot here at Gothos while you went running off after Sophie Hart". I'm shouting now, but I don't care. He deserves this. "You didn't need her to give you a daughter!" I scream into his face. "You already had me!"
Suddenly, Patrick pushes me aside and stands up. He walks to the window and stares out once again at the blackness. It's as if he wants to pretend I'm not here: his own daughter, bloodied and screaming, with her heart torn out, and I'm not even worthy of his pity. I've waited so long for him to come back, so that I could find a way to prove my worth to him, and this is how he responds. I want to reach up and hurt him, but such a move would be futile. All I can do now is wait for him to die.
"What are you looking at?" I shout as he continues to stare out the window. "What's so fascinating out there that you'd rather stare into the darkness rather than look at me?" Sobbing, I get to my feet and grab him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Why won't you look at me?" I scream, turning to look out at the darkness all around Gothos. "Why don't you -" Suddenly I stop. For a moment, I find it hard to understand what I'm looking at, but finally I understand what it is that has caught his attention. Letting go of him, I step closer to the window, peering out and seeing that there's a light in the darkness. It's far, far away, up in the mountains... but there's a light. A tiny light, like a pinprick sparkling many miles away. Something is out there, something that has no business being there, something that has never been there before.
"What is it?" I ask, before turning to find that Patrick has moved away from me. I watch as he opens the patio doors and steps out into the garden. "Where are you going?" I shout, running over but stopping before I get outside. "You can't just leave!" I scream. "It's not safe out there!" I look over at the distant light. It's just not possible that anything could be burning a fire out in the wilderness. There are creatures, yes, but nothing that would draw attention to itself in such a brazen way. I watch as Patrick walks away, disappearing into the darkness of the garden as he heads toward the distant light. "Come back!" I shout. "Don't leave me here! Come back!"
But it's too late. He's gone, off toward the distant light.
"Oh dear," says a voice behind me. I turn to find that wretched old Wormwood has wandered into the room, with the usual patronizing smile plastered across his face. "Is that someone's heart on the floor? That can't be good". He sips from his glass of brandy, before looking down at my ruined heart. "Something tells me things are about to change around here," he says finally. "I do hope everyone's going to be okay".
Book 5:
Ruins II
Prologue
Many years ago.
"Daddy!" Gwendoline shouts, running across the moor. "Daddy, wait for me!"
I turn and look back, seeing her in the distance. In my haste to reach the hunting ground before midday, I had forgotten that she might fall behind. I suppose I shouldn't be too harsh: she's only five years old, after all, and this is her first trip outside Gothos. Watching as she races toward me, I find it hard to believe that such a small thing could possibly grow up to take my place one day. Still, I have to give her a fair chance.
"Why do you walk so fast?" she asks as she reaches me. Barely half my height, she puts her arms around my waist and hugs me tight. "You scared me, Daddy. I thought I was going to become hopelessly lost out here". She glances over her shoulder, at the sight of Gothos in the distance. "It looks so small from up here," she says. "We must have walked miles and miles".
Reaching down and taking her hand, I lead her across the scrub-land. She seems to be struggling to keep up with me, but I have to make sure she stays close. There are creatures out here that would dearly love to get a-hold of her and rip her to pieces, but they will stay back while I'm around. The hills of Gothos are filled with cowardly beasts. Another reason not to let her fall too far behind.
As we walk on, I glance down at Gwendoline. I never expected to find the raising of a child to be so difficult. I had hoped her mother might be of more help, but Elizabeth lost her mind during child-birth. Foolishly, perhaps, I assumed Gwendoline would be much stronger by now, yet I can't help feeling that as she grows older, she shows more and more signs of weakness. When we're together, she seems more interested in playing the piano or dressing her dolls. I struggle to hide my disappointment, but the truth is that I fear she will never be good enough to assume the responsibilities I hope to place on her shoulders. If I'm right, there is no point in having her around. Perhaps I should kill her if she fails today's test, although I'm sure Diana would disapprove. Still, I'm getting ahead of myself; Gwendoline might yet prove me wrong and show some hitherto hidden strength.
When we finally reach the hunting ground, I immediately sense that something is nearby. It takes only a couple of minutes to locate a small deer, grazing on the slopes. I lead Gwendoline over to the animal.
"Oh, it's wonderful!" she says excitedly, her face filled with wonder.
My heart sinks. That was not the reaction for which I was hoping. I need to see some evidence of her killer instinct. To her, the deer should be not a thing of beauty, but something to be hunted for sport and killed for its blood.
"Can I go and touch it?" she asks, looking up at me.
I let go of her hand, and she hurries over to the animal. It glances at her, but it doesn't seem to recognize her as a threat. After a moment, it looks directly at me, and now I see the fear in its eyes. I take a step back, which seems to reassure the animal; it returns to its grazing, ignoring Abigail as she gets closer. Finally, she places a hand on the deer's side and begins to stroke its fur.
"Look, Daddy!" she calls out to me. "It's so beautiful!"
An overwhelming sense of nausea fills my body. She should have killed the beast by now, or at least tried, yet her urge seems to be to simply admire its form. It's as if there's no blood-lust in her soul at all, in which case she's useless; less than useless, even. I have no interest in a child who can't follow me, and who shows this kind of weakness. For so long, I've worried about Gwendoline and suspected that she might disappoint me; now, as I watch her pet the animal, I realize that it's true: she's just a worthless, spiritless girl and she'll never, ever be able to change. Humans don't change much. They are what they are.
"Don't you want to come and look, Daddy?" she shouts. Laughing, she kneels down and pulls some grass up, feeding it to the deer by hand. "Look at his eyes, Daddy," she continues. "He looks so intelligent".
I take a step forward, and the deer immediately takes two steps away. Gwendoline follows the animal, having apparently not realized why it moved. Smiling, I take another step, and yet again the skittish animal moves away from me. I'm still ten feet from it, but it can't hide its fear. It clearly senses my intent, but Gwendoline seems somewhat confused.
"What's wrong with it?" she asks, looking back at me. "It's almost as if it doesn't want you to get too close". She frowns for a moment. "Is it scared of you, Daddy?"
I nod. The girl needs to learn the truth. She has been sheltered for far too long.
"Why is it scared of you?" she asks, sounding a little nervous. "Does it think you want to hurt it?"
I take another step forward. The deer moves away a little further, and this time Gwendoline do
esn't follow. She stares at me, and I can see from the look on her face that she's starting to understand.
"You aren't going to kill it, are you?" she asks. "Daddy, it's so beautiful. Why would you want to do something like that?" She's showing her weakness now, with tears welling up in her eyes. I take another step forward, and this time Gwendoline moves in front of me, putting her arms out to stop me. "Daddy, please don't hurt it. It's just out here eating grass in the sunshine. You don't need to kill it. Please!"
Gently pushing her aside, I take another step toward the animal. This time, it stands its ground and turns to face me. It must know that it can't possibly survive a direct confrontation, yet it likely also knows that running would be futile. As I move closer and closer, I see the fear in its eyes. The animal knows it's about to die, yet it retains a degree of nobility and strength. This, perhaps, will be a good lesson for Gwendoline. She will see that even a beast can have a sense of honor in the face of death.
It takes me less than a minute to kill the animal. It barely has time to let out a cry of pain before I snap its neck. Had it tried to run, I would have made it suffer for longer, but I respect its bravery and therefore I end its life quickly. Lowering the animal's dead body to the ground, I turn to look at Gwendoline and I see that she has started to sob. Tears are rolling down her face and her lower lip is trembling. This is the first time she has ever seen me kill; she should be filled with excitement, and keen to take part, but instead she's overcome by childish emotion. I look back down at the deer and, after a moment, I sink my fangs into its neck and begin to drink its blood. Feeding from such a creature is a rare pleasure, even if the blood does not match the richness or the quality of the sustenance to be gained from the neck of a human. Finally, having satisfied my thirst, I stand up and turn to find that Gwendoline is nowhere to be seen.
It takes me a moment to locate her. She's running away, as fast as she can, heading back to Gothos. I hurry after her, but there seems little point intervening now. She has shown her true colors, and there's nothing I - or anyone - can do to make her stronger. I stop and stand on the side of the hill, watching as she continues to run. Eventually she trips and stumbles; for a moment, I wonder if it might be better if she dies out here. Unfortunately, she gets up and continues running, and I'm confident now that none of the creatures out here will attack her; they all know that I'm watching, and they undoubtedly believe I would step in to rescue my daughter. The truth, though, is that I would not. I might not be ready to kill her myself, but I would be happy to let some other creature finish her off.
As I watch her getting further and further away, I finally accept that Gwendoline is a failure. I must abandon all hope of raising her to take my place. I will have to find another daughter, a stronger daughter, one who more fully carries an element of my own personality. Not an impossible task, but one that will take time. The child will still need a human mother, but I must find the right human. I cannot afford another mistake like Gwendoline.
Abby
Today.
The room is pitch black. It's almost as if I'm standing in a void, yet I can feel the floor beneath my feet and... something, nearby. Although there's nothing to see, and nothing to hear, I can tell that I'm not alone in here. Gwendoline told me that there would be a ghost, and now I can sense a presence. It's strong and palpable, and it's close, and it seems to be circling me, perhaps getting a better look at me before it makes its move. My first instinct is to turn and run, but I have to stand my ground. I have to wait and see if this ghost is who I think it is. I've waited so long to meet my mother; I can afford to be patient.
"Hello?" I say eventually, trying not to sound scared.
There's no response, but I can feel the presence getting closer and stronger. It's almost as if I'm being examined. Staring straight ahead, all I see is darkness, but I know that there's a pair of eyes looking right back at me.
"It's me," I continue. "Abigail Hart. Abby. Is..." I pause. My heart is pounding. If Gwendoline was telling the truth, then there's only one person who could possibly be here with me right now. After all, there's only one significant person in my life who has ever died. "Are you there?" I ask. "Do you -" Suddenly I turn around as I feel something brush against my shoulder. It's gone now, but I definitely felt it, and it must have been a deliberate move to get my attention. Why won't she speak, though? Why is she laying this game with me?
"I know you're here," I say. "I just want to talk to you". I sniff back tears, determined not to get too emotional. I've waited all my life to finally meet my mother, and I can't help feeling that I'm finally going to get my chance. "I don't know if you can see me," I continue, "but I'm... I'm wearing your dress. The one you wore when you came here? That's what I was told, anyway".
I wait for her to do or say something, but there's nothing. Just silence. It's almost as if I've scared her away.
"Is it you?" I ask. "Say something. Anything, just to let me know that you're here. Please..."
Still nothing. I don't know what I'm doing wrong, but somehow I'm not managing to establish proper communication. Gwendoline told me not to spend too long in this room, so I'm wasting valuable time. Why would my mother not want to speak to me? Is she angry? Does she sense Patrick's influence in my soul? I can understand why she might not want to be reminded of him, but I'm her daughter. Why wouldn't she -
"I never wore that stinking dress," says a voice suddenly.
I take a deep breath. For a moment, I struggle to understand what I just heard. That voice wasn't what I was expecting at all. It was younger, and rougher, like a girl my age. It was also strangely familiar, and finally the crushing realization dawns.
"Donna," I whisper.
"Were you expecting someone else?" she asks.
"I -". I was so, so sure it would be my mother who met me in here. I spent so long trying to work out what to say to her, running over possible conversations in my head, that I never even thought that I might be wrong. Gwendoline said the ghost would be someone significant from my life, and I naturally assumed that meant it could only be Sophie. Now, however, I find myself in the presence of an altogether different ghost; it's only been a few days since Donna died in the forest, and she sounds angry.
"Let me guess," she says. "You were expecting Mommy to be here. Sorry. It's me. Awkward, huh?"
"I'm sorry," I say, my mind racing. I just want to get out of here, but I feel like I owe Donna some kind of apology for what happened.
"Relax," she replies. "I know what happened. I was there, remember? I fell out of that tree all by myself. Of course, I wouldn't have been up there if you hadn't broken my arm and scared me to death, but I'm not irrational. I know the score and even if I didn't, there's not much I can do about it, is there?"
"I'm really, really sorry," I tell her. Since Patrick and I arrived at Gothos, I've barely had time to think about what's been happening recently, even though Donna's death has been on my mind. "I never meant for you to suffer," I continue, "it's just that..." I sigh, realizing there's no way I can ever explain my actions properly. I was overcome by a desire to kill, to taste human blood, and at the time Donna seemed like the best target. After all, she'd bullied me pretty much constantly for a few years at school, and I wanted to teach her a lesson. I under-estimated how hard it would be to actually kill her, but I would have worked up the courage eventually. I wouldn't have backed down.
"It didn't hurt that much," she says. "I mean, sure, it hurt, but the weirdest thing is that breaking my arm hurt way more than breaking my neck". She pauses. "The actual dying part didn't hurt at all. It kinda hurt less. It just felt like I was fading away".
"I'm still -" I start to say, before feeling something directly behind me. I turn around, and finally I can see her. She looks exactly how she looked back in the forest, except that she's more pale and she's staring at me with a frightening intensity. "I'm so sorry," I say, backing away from her. "I'm so sorry, Donna. I didn't mean for -"
"Stop saying that," she
snaps back, sounding a little annoyed. "For the first time, I actually have some fucking respect for you, but I'll lose it all if you keep apologizing like that, okay?"
I stare at her for a moment. I can't stop thinking of the moment she fell, and the moment I heard her neck crack as she slammed into the ground; before that, there was the moment I grabbed her arm and felt the bones snap. Sure, she bullied me when I was 'just' a normal human, and sure she made my life miserable for a while; but what I did to her was a thousand times worse. I killed her. I took her life and I ended it. She must hate me with absolute passion. "I'm going to go," I say, turning and fumbling along the wall, hoping to find the door. It's so dark in here, and I've kind of lost my sense of direction. Eventually I grab hold of the handle and turn it, but the door won't open.