by Mandi Martin
Pushing his finger into the seal James opened it, casting the envelope aside where it fell with a soft rustle.
Unfolding the enclosed paper he blinked in bemusement, staring in both confusion and concern at the contents.
It was a drawing, clearly created by the hand of a child; the lines were shaky as they made a conscious effort to be careful and in turn made their fingers shake all the more.
Four figures adorned the white background, a man and woman with their children. The girl was the perfect image of her mother while the boy resembled the father. Only with mismatched eyes, the only colours in the picture.
As innocuous as the picture seemed it sent chills through him.
‘Coincidence,’ James thought, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, ‘or some juvenile prank my colleagues see fit to play. One would think they hadn’t anything better to do than irritate me.’
His gaze remained on the image for a while until the growing headache made him look away. Scrunching it up into a ball he tossed it heedlessly into the bin, why torment himself with it?
Sitting up with a sigh he opened the drawer and looked at the blade he kept, it gave a sense of security like one would have with a dog by their side, knowledge that if need be protection was there.
‘I could say this is another puzzle,’ James thought as he touched the cold handle. ‘I cannot remember where I obtained this. Whether it was a gift or something I got myself.’
There was a hint of a memory in his mind, as fleeting as a flake of snow in summer.
He closed the drawer with a sharp snap. There was no point in dredging in the dark to find an answer to an unimportant question. Or chasing an answer that he perhaps did not want to discover.
His eyes drifted back to the crumpled paper which was slowly unfurling in the corner where it lay. A strange feeling washed over him, a feeling of something long sealed away, something that was beginning to escape.
He flopped back against the flat pillow, groaning in unison with the springs, and covered his eyes with his hand.
“God help those who see fit to help others…”
James must have fallen asleep for when he uncovered his eyes and checked his watch over an hour had elapsed even though it felt like seconds.
He blinked, confused as to where he was for a moment until his thoughts had gathered again and the impending checks came to the forefront.
Sitting up slowly he reached for the drawers to steady himself as he got to his feet but his hand touched another surface.
The drawing.
The paper was creased from being opened out and made the smiling faces seem wrinkled and unfriendly, their eyes taunting him.
Something seemed different, the older figures oddly faded as if they were disappearing, their lips appearing slanted as though the smiles were fading to frowns or fear.
James fumed to himself, not only at the fact the image was there but at the sheer audacity that his colleagues had. That was the only thing it could have been, someone sneaking into his room just to fool about.
He was even more annoyed that his own guard had been so lax that he had not heard their footfall on the floorboards.
He dashed the picture to the floor again; he would shred or burn the blasted thing later when his shift was finished.
Muttering nonsensically to himself, nonsense that even he couldn’t comprehend, he pulled himself to his feet and stalked from the room purposefully.
James barely noticed where he was walking, his annoyance too great to take anything more in than that which was directly in front of him. Had it not been for the knowledge that he would most likely break his neck on the stairs he probably would have not registered that either.
The scent of damp, and muted sounds from behind the stone walls, brought him back to reality along with the normal leaden feeling in his stomach, the suffering and burden of others brought him down as well.
The handle to the main corridor was cold, as if a tormented soul had frozen it with its touch. He shivered as he pushed it open.
Upon doing so his eyes caught sight of one of his colleagues heading towards the staff areas, purposefully ignoring any who tried to catch his attention.
“If you see your friends,” James said clearly as he proceeded down the corridor “tell them I’m not amused.”
The man blinked before looking scornful as he continued.
“The locks on the door may have long been removed but I don’t appreciate uninvited guests playing ridiculous japes.”
“No one’s been near your room, Grey,” the other stated coldly as he turned to continue on his way. “We’re indentured servants and have better things to do than toy with you.”
“Well clearly someone has! And it has certainly never stopped you in the past.” James leant beside the door, his visible eye sparkling with irritation. “Perhaps if you bloody idiots actually did your job you’d not have the time!”
The man’s face went a dark crimson, furious at the slur. No words were issued as he flounced through the door, swinging it shut behind him and trapping James’s fingers in the process with a dull thud.
James swore and yanked his hand back, biting his lip, the knuckles already beginning to bruise, turning a subtle purple that would darken to indigo later.
“Git…”
The word went unheard but provided a release of tension at the very least as he opened the door with his other hand and headed into the all-consuming shadows once again.
Chapter Six
No trouble tainted the rest of the evening, each minute passing slowly and painfully until the day finally broke.
Silence would be his master for some time.
James found he couldn’t really remember however many days elapsed so he thought it correct to assume they had been fine even with the dull ache that had throbbed in his fingers which had slowly faded along with the bruising.
But whilst pain and memory faded, the feeling of tension and unease increased; he felt eyes everywhere both from the others and from where no eyes should be.
From the twisted boughs beyond the iron bars, from the dank depths of the courtyard well, but it was foolish to think it.
The idiotic pranks had frayed his already taut nerves and James vowed they would not snap he could not afford to allow them to.
Unable to sleep that morning he had wandered down to the dining area thinking that at least the dull hum of the conversation would alleviate the stresses he felt throbbing in his temples.
He had barely reached the dark double doors before he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder blade.
Looking round he saw the face of the man who had crushed his fingers, at least he thought it was. The faces all seemed the same and as time went on it became harder to tell who was who.
“You may want to find a better way of getting my attention,” James said coldly, his exposed eye glittered like a snowflake in the sunlight. “I could have hit you.”
The man smirked, clearly unbothered by the idle threat.
James continued, “And if you want me to do anything then let me firmly state I’m off duty, I’m not running errands to check on patients for you, especially certain ones.”
“If you mean old Atrocity, he’s fine, unfortunately, sat rambling to himself as usual,” the other answered in cruel amusement. “So unless you want to go down there’s no obligation.”
“I’d rather not, thank you.”
“Can’t ignore that forever, he’s on your list later,” the man snorted, “but since you’re awake you can take a folder down to the matron in the female quarters, somehow got mixed up with our lot.”
Although not forbidden, a man going to the female area felt unseemly and James hesitated, it was not just due to inappropriateness either.
The matron was a ferocious, thin woman with a sharp tongue to match her eyes which were blue and piercing, placed deep into a face lined before its time.
But she was just a woman, even if she sent the stomac
h roiling, and all he would need to do was to hand over the papers with few words, besides the normal pleasantries, spoken.
“Very well, but next time I need some help I expect the same consideration.”
“We’ll see. Depends what you want.”
He turned and had vanished through the door before James could retort, the first thing springing to mind was not practically breaking his fingers.
Giving a groan of annoyance he made his way back the direction he had come to follow the winding way into the female’s area, bypassing the kitchen and seldom used main hall, it’s recreational purpose long forgotten.
Other than the rooms being occupied by the female sex there was no marked difference in the layout and the surroundings were just as grey and drab.
A strong ammoniacal odour came wafting forward from some of the unfortunates, their bodies no longer able to perform even the basic functions and they were left to sit in their own waste. The closets used for relieving oneself were in better order.
James kept his eyes forward like a disinterested soldier, viewing the women in this state made him feel as if he was an unintentional voyeur to their misery and there was naught they could do to conceal themselves.
The clothing they were given was modest but became frayed and thin over time which often left little to the imagination.
It was the sound of scuffling that caught his attention.
Loud in the deathly silence it reminded him of when he had heard a rat nesting in the walls above his bed.
In the still of the night it had been louder than thunder.
James continued towards the sound, his mingled concern and curiosity spurring him forward.
Marianne was mute.
Her lips would move but no protest passed them but her eyes spoke well enough to betray her agonies and fear of the male who stood over her like an ogre.
She had been discovered in the basement of her home, cowering in the corner rocking herself, her arms wrapped about her shivering body.
A wire lay nearby and a few feet away were the remains of what had once been a developing child, now a gory mess on the stone.
The woman’s own wrists dripped a steady flow of crimson where she had attempted to dig deep enough with the blunted point. She bore the scars of many other injuries inflicted upon herself, whether of her own making or another’s remained unknown.
She shook her head wildly when accused of aborting the babe, her hands gesticulating in attempts to communicate.
But without words she had no alibi, no reason and the evidence was weighty.
No protest was made from her widowed father when she was hauled away, stating only she had acted in a whorish fashion since puberty and this came as little surprise.
The orderly looked around as James appeared in the half open doorway, releasing the auburn locks he had wrenched up, hurling her back into the wall.
“What the devil are you doing here, Grey?”
“I needed to give the matron some papers; I suspect your reasons are less innocent. I suggest you leave the poor woman alone or I will be forced to report your conduct.”
“Thank the Gods you are no judge,” the other hissed as he stepped away from the prone figure, “crime would thrive, you are as much as a lunatic as these confined with the way you sympathise with them.”
“I am most certainly not,” James answered staunchly, meeting the sullen eyes. “I simply feel there are other ways to treat people, especially a female who cannot offer defence.”
“Then the stupid creature should have learnt to write.”
The man shoved him aside forcefully, striding away audibly.
Rubbing his arm James waited until the footsteps had been consumed by the darkness before moving to help Marianne to her feet, her step ungainly from the wasted muscle of her once shapely legs.
It was obvious that she had been a beauty in her days of freedom but strain and fear had sunken and paled her once vibrant features, her skin now painted with bruises and her blonde hair brassy. The dimples that had been so charming in healthier times were now pin pricks on a thinner and tired face.
His heart ached for her; he couldn’t imagine this woman had callously slaughtered an innocent in cold blood but he knew all too well that appearances could be deceptive.
Leading her to the bed he sat her on the thin mattress, it provided no comfort but it was better than the floor.
With a small smile he turned to leave, as he did so he felt Marianne studying him intently. It was an off-putting feeling.
“Just because I have no voice does not mean I cannot speak.”
James froze as he reached for the door as the feminine voice filled his head but did not register in his ears as sound should.
Swallowing the fear stinging every nerve he turned back around.
Marianne was smiling. Her eyes bright and alive.
She indicated to her forehead with a slender hand and once again a voice filled the man’s mind.
“There are ways beyond words.”
Giving a slow bow of her head she pulled her thin legs up to her chest and shifted to face the wall, gazing at it as if the blank stone was covered in the most glorious imagery.
James remained rooted to the spot, powerless to command his legs to move. Marianne looked over her shoulder and placed a finger to her lips.
Fumbling wildly for his keys he slammed them into the lock and hastily retreated, briefly, as the door swung shut, her voice returned.
‘I was innocence corrupted…’
Clutching the folder to his chest James walked away as swiftly as he dared to locate the matron and get away from the area.
Surely her voice would not carry beyond the walls of her room?
Had it been his shift he would have made his way to speak with Silas again, finding the strange man oddly comforting but it wasn’t worth the risk.
People had enough against him without the rumour of fraternising with the insane added to it.
“Have you heard of Marianne?” James asked Silas later once his checks were done. He wasn’t expecting much of an answer considering the segregation rules but word had its way of being passed around.
Hearsay or not any information was useful.
The man looked up from his desk.
“The mute woman? Indeed.” He brushed back a lock of his lengthy silver hair. “Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason, I met her today when I had to venture to the females’ ward, that’s all.”
He moved to perch himself on the bed, it was easier than standing around and far less conspicuous if someone happened to recheck.
“You lie, my friend, had there been no reason you would not have inquired.”
James gave a small chuckle.
“I don’t think I would ever be able to get anything past you. Well, do you find anything unusual about her?”
Silas lost his bored expression and smiled with amusement.
“I take it you’re referring to her manner of conversing with people; it is rather astounding, though I do feel for the poor girl.”
“What do you know of her?” James persisted, curious to know more about the odd female.
“About as much as you probably do, I have had scarcely no interaction with her,” Silas sat back, pressing his fingers together to feel the nails dig into the tips “I suggest if you are interested then address her; she need not be in the same room talk. I’m not certain how far she can project her voice but we chinwag every now and then.”
“I thought you said you knew as much as I did?” James frowned.
“I do, if you have heard what is passed around, we ‘talk’ if you like but she never divulges much.”
“I see, well since I may not be in that area again for some time perhaps you suggest it to her?”
Silas nodded agreeably, watching as James got to his feet, uncomfortable even on the softer mattress.
“What exactly do you discuss if you don’t mind my asking?”
; “She doesn’t say much,” Silas paused, a small frown creasing his brow as he bit back the incorrect laughter, “apologies, tactless of me. Anyway, usual trivial chitchat. Futility of existence, boredom, issues with those housed opposite, hardly Plato.”
“Not the weather?” James grinned, gestured to the barred windows which the sun rarely squeezed through. “You surprise me, Mr Everett, not asking a lady about how she finds such glorious sunshine.”
A rumbling chuckle echoed from the others throat and he clapped a hand to his forehead.
“How dreadfully impertinent of me! Perhaps I should invite the dear lady for a stroll along the promenade also.”
James laughed, loudly coughing to disguise the sound as it reverberated out of the room.
“Well if you do then remember to tie your hair back,” he said after he had regained his breath, “you could throttle someone with it.”
“Yes, they wanted to cut it, the attendant nearly lost his eyes,” Silas eyed his lengthy nails “these come in useful. But now they only serve to braid my hair, one of the only distractions one has here.”
The action had not gone down well, the damage was not exactly minor but the man had money and that held high value.
Solitary confinement was all that was dealt out.
James moved to the door, time didn’t stand still no matter how much it seemed to lag and he had dallied enough.
“I have to go, is there anything you need?”
“Apart from the obvious?” The reply was terse. “Freedom? Company? Choices of my own? No.”
It had been a foolish question, one that had served only to irritate for what could he really do for him that held any worth?
Chapter Seven
I once walked where the wild roses grew,
Over grasses covered with mist and dew.
But now my dreams are nought but pain
And how I long to wake again.
Strange lights flickered, emitting an odd humming sound as if a swarm of insects danced within them.