D_Whitby's Darkest Secret

by Chris Turnbull

  The darkness circled the small table and it was difficult to make out how far away the dark walls actually were. I began to walk past the table, away from the bed and the light, holding out my hands in the darkness so as not to walk into the wall. The room was without doubt much bigger than I had initially thought, and by the time I had reached a wall I could no longer see the bed hidden in the darkness, now at the opposite side of the room. The walls were damp, cold and rough, like one would expect to see inside a cave. A sudden draught caught hold of me causing me to shiver. I could barely see my own hands in front of me.

  Desperate to leave, I began feeling my way along the harsh walls, in hope that an opening would appear I had missed. As I ran my hands over the cold surface I could sense my fingers becoming more numb and tender with every movement. The walls were ice cold, and as I moved along the dampness worsened, leaving my entire hands soaked. Suddenly my fingers brushed against something soft, warm even. It was a fabric, almost like a giant dark curtain camouflaged against the rock like walls. I ran my hand over it many times, taking pleasure from the warm softness against my now throbbing fingers, yet I was hesitant to pull it aside through fear of what may lie beyond.

  Eventually my fingers found the edge of the fabric and I pulled it to one side. It was heavy and I needed to use all my strength to move it. I was faced with a small passage, so small it was barely a couple of feet long, and at the end another dark fabric drape, only this time I could see light squeezing its way around the edges. I took hold of the screen and with both hands I again moved it to one side with all my strength. Never have I seen such heavy fabric. As the drape gave way I was hit by a ray of light, and as I edged myself through the gap I found myself in a large open room. The centre of the floor was filled with more than ten solid silver candelabras, all of which were taller than me, and each with six perfectly white long thin melting candles lit upon them. The flames danced in unison as the draught followed me through the curtained passage.

  My eyes were wide in astonishment as I took in the room before me: the ceiling was so high that it could not be seen as it rose into a vast never ending darkness. The walls, similar to the other room, were cold damp exposed stone. They were decorated in streaks of green moss and algae climbing up towards the darkness. The uneven floor was littered with newspaper clippings old and new, and one of the walls had various clippings stuck to it too. I cautiously moved myself closer to this wall, and it became instantly apparent that the entire wall of newspaper clippings related to the same thing: the murders happening in Whitby. I looked closer at the clippings and started reading them. All of the victims had been women in their twenties. Each article relayed a similar story, the only difference being that of the victim’s name; and all articles pleading for anybody to come forward with information. It suddenly dawned on me exactly who this man must be.

  As I came to the end of the display I gasped with shock at what I saw: it was a hand drawn picture, of me.

  ‘I see you have found your portrait.’ His voice startled me as it echoed against the dull walls. I felt a gentle hand placed on my shoulder. I jumped back from his grip and turned to look at him.

  ‘What do you want with me?’ I demanded.

  ‘My dear, you were hurt, I needed to get you somewhere safe.’

  ‘And you think kidnapping me was the best thing to do?’ My voice was shaking, yet I could not contain the anger that was burning up inside me. He looked at me as though I had hurt his feelings, as though I was the one to overstep the mark. He turned his back and began walking away.

  ‘Wait!’ I shouted, he stopped in his tracks but did not turn to face me. ‘What are you going to do with me?’

  ‘Me?’ He turned and questioned me as though I was talking nonsense. ‘I am not going to do anything. It is you that must correct the mistakes you have made and set right the path in which you deserve to live.’ I looked at him puzzled. What was he talking about? He walked back towards me and grabbed my hand faster than I could pull it away.

  ‘I know your feelings must be difficult to hide from me.’ He began caressing my hand against his face as he spoke to me. ‘But I do not blame you for the mistakes you have made. I am here now to set you free and let you live the life you truly deserve.’

  I pulled my hand back, but his grip was too strong. He leaned into me, pressing me against the wall of paper clippings, his hand stroking my hair.

  ‘You are far too beautiful to be wasted on a man like him. I have seen the way you look at me but I cannot be responsible for your own infidelity. You must leave him, so that we can be together.’ He leaned into me and gently touched his lips against my neck, inhaling loudly and taking in my scent. I pushed him back, but this only caused him to laugh in my face.

  He finally let me go and snatched the picture he had drawn of me off the wall.

  ‘I had always enjoyed drawing, but I have not found the inspiration for it in such a long time.’ He turned back to me and looked me straight in the eye. ‘You have reawakened this love in me, and I will draw you again and again.’

  ‘What is your name?’ I have no idea why this was my next question, but I thought by keeping him talking that I might distract him from touching me again. He took a step back from me and made a disgusted sound as though I had said something offensive.

  ‘A name is but a label bestowed on you by the ghastly people that bear you into this world, a label that they forced on you, and one that you must live with for the rest of your Godforsaken life. No thought or regards as to whether you would like it. Well not me. I have no name. I refuse to be known by the name those bastards cursed me with.’ His voice was getting louder and louder as it echoed off the walls, his anger was mounting and I could tell that he was about to lash out at any minute. I needed to stop him.

  ‘So what do I call you?’ I uttered, almost wanting to kick myself the moment it came out of my mouth. Fearful that this would upset him further.

  He paused for a moment as though shocked by my question. ‘D,’ was his only reply, as he walked away from me. Removing the hat from his head he placed it down on a large wooden desk I had not noticed. His hair was curly and dark brown, and was long enough to just sit over his ears.

  His face was youthful, yet it looked tired and worn as though he had suffered a hard life, his eyes dark and tiresome yet his gaze was hard and demanding; never had I seen a man with grey eyes such as his. As I looked up on this seemingly lonely man I found myself feeling sorry for him. He was clearly unwell, and looking at the tiredness of his clothing he did not have much money. Yet to look at him he seemed perfectly normal. In fact I would almost go as far as to say he was handsome. He was tall and broad chested, yet strangely slender due to his height. How had this man turned into such a recluse, and into the man the Whitby residents thought him?

  ‘You know what you must do?’ He looked at me from the desk. I had not moved from the clippings pinned to the wall, and was unsure whether to or not.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, uncertain of what he was asking of me.

  ‘You are to speak to your husband and tell him you are leaving him. I will be waiting for you so we can be together.’ His voice was serious, yet I desperately wanted to question his sincerity. How were we to be together, he was a monster, a murderer? I could not be with him even if I wanted to be.

  I paused and looked at him in horror. He did not speak again but simply waited for my reply. I knew that if I was to escape I needed to play along. He was offering me the chance to go speak to Albert, and that was enough for me.

  ‘Yes.’ I said cautiously, I was a bad liar and hoped he would not see through my plan to leave. ‘I will go and speak to Albert.’

  His eyes lit up at my words. He rushed towards me and took me in his arms, lifting me off the ground and spinning me around before pulling my face into his own and kissing me hard on the lips.

  ‘But sir, we cannot be together until I have spoken to my husband. Restrain yourself.’ I hated having to lie, but I
needed to at least look as though I was interested in him, even if it was just to get myself out.

  ‘It is late now. You slept for a long time, and you must go,’ he said to me as he stuck the picture of me back on the wall. ‘We do not want them to worry about you.’ And he took my hand and led me over to his desk. He paused a second before opening the top drawer, then pulled out my library book, handing it to me. In the split second he held out my book, I could almost see the normal man inside him; his face softened, his brow relaxed and for the first time he seemed happy. What was I going to do?

  ‘Now you must go, and tell him you are leaving.’ He held me by the shoulders and spoke to me in whispers as though not wanting to be heard by anyone but me; he then pulled me in again and kissed me on the mouth. His lips were strangely warm as he held my face to his own, yet I pulled my face away.

  He said something else as he reached back into the drawer of his desk, but I did not quite catch the words he spoke. Suddenly he brought out a small cutting of fabric and quickly pushed it onto my face, holding it against my mouth and nose whilst his other hand held me firmly in place. I struggled to escape his grip, but he was too strong for me. The overwhelming scent of the cloth caused me to feel faint, before I finally blacked out.

  Chapter 28

  D.

  I watched from the shadows as she entered the candle-lit room, her eyes squinting as they adjusted to the sudden light intensity of the room. Her attention was quickly taken by the wall of newspaper clippings I had so carefully arranged. Her graceful movements were a pleasure to watch as she made her way to take a closer look. She had not even noticed me in the corner, concealed by the shadow of the curved wall. I watched her for a moment as she took in the clippings, reading them casually as though she had all the time in the world. As I made my way over to her I caught her eyes move over the portrait I have drawn of her. Such a shame I had not thought to hide it, I could have given it to her as a gift.

  ‘I see you have found your portrait,’ I said, and she jumped; clearly unaware I had been standing behind her.

  ‘What do you want with me?’ she demanded, anger clear in her voice.

  ‘My dear, you were hurt, I needed to get you somewhere safe,’ I replied trying to calm her.

  ‘And you think kidnapping me was the best thing to do?’

  I was shocked by her response. I did not kidnap her; I was merely trying to keep her safe. I could never have left her on the ground unconscious. What kind of man would that make me, to leave a loved one behind in such time of need? I turned and walked away, hurt, unsure how to proceed in our conversation.

  ‘Wait!’ she called after me. ‘What are you going to do with me?’

  ‘Me?’ I stumbled at her question, confused by it almost. ‘I am not going to do anything. It is you that must correct the mistakes you have made and set right the path in which you deserve to live.’ She somehow seemed to relax more as our conversation continued, and I leaned in and kissed her gently on the neck, her aroma filling my nostrils, my desire for her growing ever more.

  I explained that she must tell her husband the truth, we both knew her true feelings for me and I could not see her disgrace her own name just because she was in an unhappy marriage. She needed to tell him the truth so she could be with me fully.

  I was surprised at her enthusiasm towards telling him. Her eyes danced with sheer happiness when I told her we would be together at last once he knew. I took her by the hand and led her over to my desk. Her library book was in my top drawer for safe keeping, and I handed it back to her. I knew I had to figure a way of getting her out of here without her knowing where the entrance was; after all if her fool of a husband was to trick her and follow her back then we would both be in trouble.

  I suddenly recalled having a rag in my desk, drenched in high fragranced toxin that would knock anybody unconscious. I had used it numerous time and knew this was the only way, although I hated the thought of doing it to her. I saw it needed to be done fast, and so I leaned back and grabbed the rag as quickly as I could, pushing it into her face and holding her steady so she could not escape. As predicted she was unconscious in seconds. I held her tight so as not to let her fall. Her library book which had fallen to the ground I held onto with my free hand, and I proceeded to carry her back outside.

  As I carried her I could not stop looking upon her beautiful face. I knew it was only a matter of time before she would admit to her true feelings; and it now won’t be long until she belongs to me.

  Chapter 29

  Victoria

  My eyes were heavy and sore as I woke, my entire body stiff and uncomfortable. As my eyes finally adjusted to my surroundings I realised I was back on the bench overlooking the two piers, and the moody looking ocean beyond. My library book had been placed onto the seat next to me.

  I looked around to see if anybody was around, but the immediate area was deserted. Silence was instantly noticeable, even the scream of the seagulls could not be heard echoing from the harbour like normal. I slowly stood from the old wooden bench, my back sore as though I had been sitting there for hours and my legs slightly shaky. It was now dark out, and any hope of light had been absorbed by the darkened clouds hanging motionless in the sky. I snatched my book from the bench and briskly began to walk back in the direction of town. I stumbled as I began to walk, a slight wobble in my exhausted legs as if suffering from a long night of wine drinking. I stopped and held onto the bench whilst I recomposed myself, my head spinning and my vision slightly blurred. Nausea fell upon me. I set off again but had to stop again quite soon to prevent myself from tumbling to the ground; I leaned against the first little house to avoid falling over.

  Suddenly as I stood leant against the wall, memories of Him flooded back to me. His hands were touching me, his face so close to my own breathing in my scent, and his lips caressing my neck and kissing my lips as though he had the right to them. Goosebumps suddenly spread across my entire body as I remember his irrational request for me to run away with him. How could he be so blind to think that I would want to elope with somebody like him, his delusion baffled me.

  I finally caught my balance and began to slowly run down the narrow street and in the direction of the inn; my adrenaline was high as I raced along the cobbles, and in no time I was passing the base of the 199 steps. I turned onto Church Street without a single hesitation. I continued at an almighty speed along the dark road, holding up my dress to ensure I didn’t trip over it. The street was now empty of other people, my heels and heavy gasping the only noise to be heard.

  I arrived outside the White Horse and Griffin and without a moment to spare I burst through the door and ran straight into a gentleman on his way out of the inn. He caught me in his arms and managed to stop us both from tumbling to the ground. My book fell onto the floor and fell open to a random page, and a small card fell from it, landing onto the floor next to it.

  ‘I’m sorry sir.’ I hesitated, embarrassed by my charging into him; however his eyes were no longer on me, but the card which had fallen out of my book.

  ‘Madam, may I ask where you acquired this card?’ His deep voice was stern and of a serious nature. I looked to the ground and stared at the card lying limp on the stone floor. No bigger than a playing card it depicted a small pencil drawing of a large black dog. The gentleman knelt to pick up the card from the ground, clearly keen to inspect it further. He turned it over to reveal a large ‘D’ in a strange red substance; surely it wasn’t blood?

  The gentleman turned his attention back to me, and spoke with a more urgent tone to his voice. ‘Where did you get this card?’ I opened my mouth to reply to his question, but I could not find my voice, at that moment Albert entered the room.

  ‘V, where on earth have you been, I’ve been worried sick about you.’ He took hold of my hands and pulled me into his broad chest, holding me tighter than he had ever done before. I could not hold my emotions in a moment longer and immediately burst into tears.

  When I
had finally composed myself, Albert sat me down in the bar area and asked Mr Walker to bring me a warm drink, my hands were trembling and had begun turning blue from the utter cold.

  ‘Darling this is Detective Matthews, we have spent the entire afternoon looking for you.’ Matthews greeted me with a slight nod of the head and slightly moving the corner of the hat which sat proudly upon his head. A younger man entered the inn and without hesitation pulled up a chair to join us.

  ‘Ah yes, Mrs Summers, this is Constable Taylor,’ the detective said, ‘he has been working closely with me in the search for you today.’ I give the Constable a friendly smile to acknowledge his introduction.

  ‘Pleased to meet you madam,’ he stretched out his hand to shake my own; ‘and may I say how pleased I am to see you back safe.’ His voice had less authority to it than the detectives, and his round boyish face did not seem to fit against the smart suit he wore. Detective Matthews sat forward in his chair, his arms rested on the small round table that swayed somewhat due to its uneven legs, and he cleared his throat as though ready to make a long speech.

  ‘Mrs Summers I was wondering if you would be willing to answer a couple of questions?’ Matthews spoke with such confidence and reassurance about him that it was difficult for me to decline.

  ‘What is it you wish to know?’

  The Detective slid the small card into the centre of the table, the bright red ‘D’ staring up at me.

  ‘Do you know what this is?’ he asked. His stern voice and hard stare made me feel like I was the one in trouble.

  ‘I have never seen it before.’ It was the truth, yet somehow as it left my mouth it sounded very much like a lie. Albert took my hand and sandwiched it between his own.

  ‘Darling, you need to tell us everything that happened to you today, it’s serious.’