by Rose, Willow
They smell your weakness; they sense that you are feeble. They will wait till you can't hold on anymore and, once you doze off, they will attack.
Ida panted and breathed fast, focusing on staying awake and alert. The hammer was heavy in her hand and she couldn't hold it up for long; she had to take breaks. But if any of those…beasts came anywhere near, she would gather all the strength she had, so help me God, and she would swing it at them, smash their small heads, crack their brains one by one, even if it was the last thing she ever did.
The rats seemed to be grinning at her with their sharp little teeth. She could only see the front troops, but sensed that thousands were behind them, ready to take over when the scouts were wiped out in battle. The rats were snarling, foam around their mouths. Ida remembered hearing about rabid animals in school and wondered if rats could be rabid as well. What did it matter anyway? They’d infected her with something, that was certain; her wounds were swollen and her brain had gone to goo. Her head was burning up; she definitely had a fever now and then there was the thirst. The thirst was killing her. The irony of it all was that on the other side of that door, that damn thick and robust door were bottles of juice, and Ida knew it, she had seen them. All the top shelves were packed with orange juice, which she couldn't stop thinking about now.
Ida lifted her head and looked at the thick door. Three deep bumps had she managed to make with the hammer. If only she could gather a little more strength, just a little bit, then maybe, maybe she could hit the door once again and make a hole. Maybe. The juice was in there and she was going to get it somehow. She just needed to rest a little. Just a little bit.
Ida groaned as she put her burning cheek on the cold floor. The rats were making scratching noises close to her foot now. One of them was touching it, tickling her the bottom of her foot. Ida wanted to move it, she really did, she wanted to kick it in the head, she even imagined doing so, but that didn't make the rat go away. All you have to do is lift your damn leg and kick it; it will scare the rest off.
But Ida was so tired now, so very, very tired. As she closed her eyes, she could hear Edwina's scream grow farther and farther away, until there was nothing but silence. Darkness and silence.
Chapter Forty-One
She made sure Sebastian stayed in his room and told him to get into bed and she would be right back to tuck him in, before she closed the door and went into the hallway. She turned up the TV in the living room before approaching.
Edwina's screams had become more of a deep moaning now and Marie-Therese approached her room with a nervous feeling, anxious about what she was going to find behind the door. She lifted her hand to knock, but then changed her mind. It was her house and she was entitled to know everything that went on in it.
For some reason, Marie-Therese looked at the painting of the Holy Mary that used to belong to her mother and that Marie-Therese had hung up in her sudden religious outburst. She wondered why the picture still scared her so much after her mother was long gone. It used to hang in her mother's bedroom and Marie-Therese would stare up at it while her mother whipped her when she had been disobedient or taken the Lord's name in vain.
So much shame, so much pain.
Marie-Therese pushed the thought away and grabbed the door handle. Marie-Therese swung the door open at the same second the Priest's two helpers lifted Edwina up by the arms and let her fall to her knees on the hard wooden floors with a bone-piercing scream. The sound of her knees hitting the floor made Marie-Therese's stomach turn. It sounded like something cracked inside of them as they landed in a pool of blood. Edwina moaned and cried and fell with her head to the ground in front of the Priest's shoes, while he spoke in Latin phrases, chanted, and swung his cross in front of her face.
"What the Hell are you doing to her?" Marie-Therese screamed and ran towards Edwina.
One of the two men grabbed Marie-Therese by the arm and tried to pull her away, but Marie-Therese placed a perfect punch with her fist on his chin and he drew backwards, letting go of her immediately.
Marie-Therese kneeled in front of Edwina, who was lying in her own blood, her clothes smeared with it.
"Oh, my God, oh, my God, what have they done to you?" she yelled. She grabbed Edwina's body and turned her around, put her hands under her tiny body and lifted her up, walked to the bed, and put her on top of it.
"Ms. Lundtofte," the Priest said. "This is really highly unusual. We need to proceed with the ceremony if it is to have any effect on the girl."
Marie-Therese ignored him while examining Edwina. The skin around her eyes was purple, her face bruised, she was shaking all over, almost in spasms, her eyes rolling back in her head. But worst of all were her knees. They were bleeding heavily and swollen to what looked like three times their normal size. Marie-Therese snorted while using her nursing skills to check their mobility. Edwina screamed at her touch. Marie-Therese felt tears pressing on behind her eyes and hushed her with a thick voice.
"Do you have any idea what you have done to her?" she yelled.
"I'm sorry? What we have done to her?" the Priest asked. "I thought we had an agreement here…"
Marie-Therese stood up and looked into the Priest's face. "How many genuflections have you had her make?"
"I really don't think I owe you or anyone here any explain…"
"How many?!
"Well, we were aiming for six hundred, but only made it to…" The Priest looked at one of his helpers.
"Five hundred and eighty-six," the helper said.
"Five hundred and eighty-six?" Marie-Therese said, feeling her heartbeat go up even further. "Five hundred and eighty-six times she has fallen to her knees like that? Are you insane?"
"It's part of the process, a genuflection is an act of reverence, consisting of falling onto one or both knees."
"I know perfectly well what a genuflection is; don't tell me what it is! Tell me why you're forcing her to do it six hundred times in a day! Tell me why you're continuing even after she is so weak she can't do it by herself but needs someone—two grown men—to hold her up and throw her to her knees. Don't you think you should have stopped once she couldn't do it by herself anymore? How much reverence is there in forcing her?"
"I thought you wanted us to help the girl," the Priest answered.
"Yes, help her, not torture her! Look at her knees, for God's sake. Look at them. They're bleeding, for crying out loud."
"That is perfectly normal…"
"Is it normal that the ligaments in her knees are ruptured? Is it? Because that's what happened to her, in both of her knees. Do you have any idea how painful that is? Didn't you hear them pop when she fell? Didn't you hear her screams?"
"Well, it's normal in a process like this…" the Priest tried, but Marie-Therese stopped him.
"There is nothing normal about this." Tears were piling up now, but she held them back. Seeing Edwina like this tortured her, especially since she had agreed to do this. She had wanted the Priest to come and…but no, not this. She never imagined they were actually hurting Edwina.
But what did you think they were doing to her? You heard her screaming all night and all afternoon today. You didn't do anything, did you? You did this to her.
Marie-Therese kneeled next to Edwina and stroked her hair gently. "What have I done?" she muttered under her breath. "I thought it was the demon inside of you screaming because they said those words, because they showed you a cross, because of the presence of holiness, but no. I was the one letting the devil inside of the house; I was the one causing all this, making you suffer, and I will burn in Hell for this."
Marie-Therese felt a wave of shock and regret go through her entire body. What had she become? She couldn't believe she had gone down this path, the same path she loathed her own mother for taking; she couldn't believe she had become just like her, like the woman she hated the most in this world. There were no demons, this girl wasn't possessed, she was just never loved, she was poor and unfortunate, and all those incidents
that she thought were her fault, were nothing but coincidences. Accidents happen, it's part of life. Marie-Therese stared at Edwina's small and tortured body. How could anyone think there could be evil in such a small creature? She was nothing but a child, for Christ’s sake.
She felt the Priest's hand on her shoulder. "Maybe it would be best for all if we brought Edwina to the campground with us; we have years of experience with similar cases of posse…"
"Get out," Marie-Therese growled.
"I really think we could do great things for her at our camp. We have had many cases like her and had great success treating them. Edwina is a difficult case, but I am not giving up on her. There has never been a case I couldn't…" The Priest paused, then continued with his mild and persuasive voice. "We can help her there; she can't hurt anyone there, since the presence of the cross and the Holy Spirit drains the demon's powers. She can't hurt any of us, since God's presence is so strong in us. Up there, she won't be able to hurt anyone. All will be safe. We are protected."
Marie-Therese had only one thought in her mind. Who will protect Edwina?
The Priest kept talking. Marie-Therese could hardly hear him speak anymore as her blood started rushing through her veins and she heard nothing but whooshing sounds in her ears. She felt a furor unlike any she had ever felt rise inside of her body. She drew in a deep breath before she opened her mouth and roared:
"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
Chapter Forty-Two
"I'm so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?" Marie-Therese was crying hard now while holding Edwina in her arms, rocking her back and forth. "It's all my fault. I'm so, so sorry."
Edwina grunted slightly, and then slowly dozed off in Marie-Therese's arms. Marie-Therese kept rocking her for a little while longer, stroking her hair, or the little that she had. She wondered again about Ida and if she was really gone for good. It was going to be so empty here in the house without her. The truth was that Marie-Therese needed her more than anyone. She didn't trust herself anymore; she didn't think she was cut out to take care of anyone.
"Where are you, sweet Ida?" she said, crying, looking out the window into the darkness. "Come back and save me from myself."
Marie-Therese sighed and put Edwina in the bed and covered her bloody body with the blanket. She was going to wash her off tomorrow and take her to see a doctor. It was time to clean up the mess she had made. She had to make up for all the bad things she had done.
"Maybe you're better off out there on your own, little Ida," she said, and turned the light off in Edwina's room.
Marie-Therese checked on Sebastian. He had fallen asleep in a chair he had pushed all the way towards the wall, where he had probably been trying to listen to what was going on in the rest of the house. Either that or he had been playing with the car that was in his hand, Marie-Therese thought, and took the car from him, lifted him up in her arms, and carried him to bed. He grumbled something in his sleep as she covered him. "Sleep tight, big boy. Starting tomorrow, everything is going to change," she said, leaned over, and kissed his forehead.
"Tomorrow will be a new day," she repeated to herself as she turned off the lights and shut the door carefully. A new day with all the hope that dawn brings. A day to make amends.
Her mother had taught her that. That was one thing she had liked about her mother. No matter what you had done on the day before, no matter how bad you had been, tomorrow was always a new day, a new start. As long as you repented your sins and told the Lord you were sorry, all would be forgotten the very next day. A fresh start was all Marie-Therese needed right now.
She made herself a cheese sandwich and ate it greedily; happy that the nausea she felt earlier seemed to be gone. Probably nothing but a case of not eating a proper dinner, she told herself, and made another sandwich, feeling suddenly very hungry. She went to the refrigerator to get herself a glass of juice, but found none. The empty carton was on the counter. She picked it up while chewing on her sandwich. Who had left the carton here? Who had poured the last of the juice? There was a glass next to it.
"Ida," she mumbled, swallowing a bite of sandwich.
Ida had to have taken the last of the juice before leaving this morning. Marie-Therese took another bite, while swallowing her tears along with the food. She had a lump in her throat that didn't want to go away. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself down. Was it her fault Ida had run away? Had she driven her to do it?
The clock showed almost midnight as Marie-Therese threw away the empty carton. No, it was time for her to do the right thing. She was responsible for Ida and, if the girl didn't come back home tomorrow, she was going to call the police and have them find her. Whether she wanted to or not, Ida was coming home.
Marie-Therese was suddenly struck by an eerie feeling. What if something bad had happened to her? Marie-Therese swallowed the last bite of the sandwich and nodded to herself. She knew the police wouldn't do much until the kid had been gone for more than twenty-four hours. Yet, she picked up the phone and called them. They said they would keep an eye out for her and that they were going to send someone out to take Marie-Therese's statement, but that she shouldn't count on it being before the morning, since the local jewelry store had just been robbed.
"As in most of these kinds of cases, the girl will be back by tomorrow, once she gets hungry," the officer on the phone said.
Marie-Therese hung up and walked back to the kitchen to get some juice. She opened the refrigerator. Oh, yes, she had forgotten. There was no more juice. Well she would just have to go down to the basement then and get a new one. It really wasn't like Ida to take the last of the juice without getting a new one from the basement. She had to have been very upset when she left, or maybe in one of her imaginary adventures, which sometimes went on in her mind. That was the thing that truly concerned Marie-Therese. The fact that Ida had a habit of drifting off into these worlds of her own. If she had done that today and was just wandering around somewhere thinking she was riding on that unicorn of hers that she always claimed was real, then she could get herself in all kinds of trouble. Marie-Therese went back to the phone and called the local hospital. No, they didn't have her there, the receptionist told her.
Marie-Therese breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't hurt or anything. Probably just taken that damn train to see her parents anyway. Marie-Therese knew she always thought about them and that she wanted to go to them and see if they were alright. She worried so damn much, that kid. Too much for a twelve-year old. Heck, she was hardly a child anymore, was she? The way she acted you'd think she was in her fifties. Twelve going on fifty. Sometimes Marie-Therese forgot she was a child, since she hardly ever acted like one. She was more like a sister, or a good friend that Marie-Therese liked having around. But that was going to change too. Starting tomorrow, Marie-Therese was going to be the mother of these children, whether they liked it or not. And Ida was going to be a twelve-year-old kid again, taking orders from her mother, and playing with other children.
If only the police can find her. Nonsense, Marie-Therese thought, and opened the door to the basement. They will. She can't possibly have gone far.
Marie-Therese walked down the stairs, wondering who had left the lights on down there. Could she have done that? Well, it had happened on more than one occasion. But maybe it could have been Ida? But if Ida had come down here, why hadn't she brought the juice back with her? There was a box that had been pulled halfway across the floor. Ida could have done that, maybe to stand on so she could reach the top shelf where the juice was placed. How clumsy, she thought to herself. If Marie-Therese wanted Ida to be able to go and get it, why did she put it where she couldn't reach it?
But what had stopped Ida in the process? Why hadn't she pulled the box all the way? Why hadn't she reached the juice and replaced it in the refrigerator?
The phone, Marie-Therese thought. It could have been the phone. Maybe someone had called her in that instant and she gave up everything and ran for it, forgetting
all about light, boxes, and juice. Marie-Therese felt a pinch in her stomach and the nausea returned. Had someone called Ida and told her about her parents? Maybe that was why she left? Could it have been that woman, that social worker, Line Petersen? Maybe Ida became so upset that she just left?
Marie-Therese hoped to God it wasn't why.
She grabbed the box and dragged it back into its place, and then she walked to the shelves and pulled down a carton of juice. She turned and started walking towards the stairs when she thought she heard something. She turned her head and stared at the thick blue door. Her body shivered in the cold she always sensed coming from that room.
As if ghosts were living in there, breathing their cold breath of death.
Marie-Therese had so often heard strange noises coming from behind the door and hadn't dared to open it for years. Now she was hearing squeaking and scraping sounds. The hair on her arms rose in goose bumps. She walked closer to the door and put her ear towards it. There was a deep moaning, then a whining, and heavy breathing. Marie-Therese was shaking and backed up in fear. Whatever was in there, wasn't human, she thought, and stormed up the stairs and forgot to turn off the lights, as usual.
Chapter Forty-Three
Ida woke with a gasp. She raised her hurting head painfully and looked around, perplexed, trying to figure out what was up and what was down. Then she remembered everything. The basement…the…the rats. That was when she realized what had woken her up. At first she thought it was because she heard someone on the other side of the door, but now she realized that had been nothing but a dream, wishful thinking even. No, what had woken her was a rat. Ida gasped when she saw why. It was pain, pain coming from the toe that it was nibbling on.
Ida cried and tried to pull her leg away, but could only move it a few inches before it became too painful. The rat didn't let go. Panicking, she pressed through the pain and lifted the other leg and kicked the rat’s face, forcing it to fly backwards with a shriek.