I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it again. I wanted so badly to tell Lorin about the box, about the book, about the little bag that had something terrible inside, but I couldn't find the words. What would I say? I didn't really know anything yet. Lorin would just tell me that I was being silly. I glanced sadly over my shoulder, back towards the village, as the cart rumbled steadily on home.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Opportunity
I LAY IN bed contemplating my misery, the moon high in the sky spilling its ghostly light across the little bedroom. I had never felt more alone. The mystery of the chest underneath my parents' bed niggled me constantly, like a splinter in my mind that I could neither reach nor ignore. No matter where I was or what I was doing; grooming the horses in the stable, cleaning the crops on the plantation, or lying in bed alone like right now, the box called out to me, whispering to my heart.
Come and open me. Learn my secrets.
But I could not open the box. I had resolved to try on the way back from the village, but my mother, guessing my intentions, watched me like a hawk constantly until my father returned from his trip, and then the leather bag containing the key found itself once again slung over his shoulder wherever he went.
My heart sank at the thought that I had missed my chance, but what compounded my despair was not being able to talk to anyone about it. Ordinarily I might have shared my thoughts with my grandmother or Lorin, the only two people in the world to whom I felt close enough to confide in. But Firmina was preoccupied taking care of my mother, who had become ever quieter and unhappier, and the old woman was afraid for her health, as well as that of the unborn child. My grandmother spent most of her time tending to her daughter, or else out in the forest gathering herbs and ingredients for the spells she performed to ask the spirits for help. By the time night fell she was exhausted, and I didn't want to burden her with my own worries on top of all of that.
Lorin had no such troubles, but neither did he share his little sister's dark view of our father. Perhaps it was different for the boys, I thought. Moises treated us all like slaves, but the girls usually bore the brunt of his worst tempers. That he considered us less useful as workers was probably part of the reason for that, but as I had gotten older I had started to feel like there were other reasons why he behaved particularly violently towards his daughters, and the thought made me feel sick, and scared, and even more desperate to get as far away from him as possible. As I often did in the quiet loneliness of the night when all of my fears crept from the shadows to torment me, I felt like crying. But the muffled sob that followed was not mine. It belonged to my mother. I turned onto my side and made to move my arm up to cover my ear when another sound made me freeze in place.
"You have to help me!" barked my father. The hoarse quality to his voice told me that he was trying to keep quiet, but his temper had gotten the better of him as usual. I scrambled closer to the thin wooden wall and listened hard, but when Moises spoke again his voice was low and muffled, and I couldn't make out the words. Frustrated, I hopped quickly out of bed, crept over to the door, eased it open just enough so that I could squeeze out, and edged down the hallway towards my parents' room.
"I'm going away again tomorrow," I heard him say as I moved my ear as close as I dared to the bedroom door, "and I don't know when, or even if I will return." My mother sobbed again, and I felt a pang in my own heart. I wanted to run in and hug her, to comfort her, to yell at my father and tell him everything I thought about him. But even more than all of that, I wanted to know what was going on, so I stayed still, and silent, and continued to listen.
"What do you want me to do?" Maria asked, so quietly that I could barely hear the question. My father had just about wrung the life out of her. I could hear it in her voice. How much longer could she stay strong? How much time did she have?
"The box under our bed," Moises replied, causing me to gasp audibly and lose my balance, almost hitting my head against the bedroom door. "If I don’t return, I want you to destroy everything that's in there."
No! cried the voice inside My head. No, you can't! Not yet! My heart was racing so fast I felt as though I might pass out.
"What is in there?" my mother asked, convincingly.
"It's better you don't know," my father replied. "Just destroy the whole thing. Make a fire and burn it all."
"Why?" asked between sobs. He must know that she knows, I thought. Why would she be so upset if she didn't know?
"Just do it," he snapped. "If the police find it, you'll be in trouble. And I don't want that." Liar. The word almost escaped my mouth, and I clapped my hand over it. You don't care about her. You only care about yourself. You don't want the police to find your ears. You don't want them to know what you've done.
It was the last little push that I needed. I crept back down the corridor and into bed, but I did not sleep. Instead, I waited and listened patiently for my parents to rise the next morning, and when I heard them both head towards the kitchen, I darted into their room and snatched the key from the little leather bag. I couldn't open the box now, I decided. My father might walk in at any moment and he might actually kill me this time if he found me rummaging through his most secret possessions. But Moises was going away today, he had said so himself last night. All I had to do was wait.
Stuffing the key into my pocket, I dashed from the room, straight out of the house and off towards the shelter of the trees. I didn't know why, but I felt I needed to get as far away from the scene of the crime as possible, away from my mother's suspicious gaze and my father's menacing shadow. Hidden in the forest I would be safe until he had gone.
"Where do you think you're going?"
I jumped so high that I almost lost my feet and tumbled to the ground, but when my head snapped around it was not Moises standing over me, but Lorin. "You idiot!" I shouted, lunging forward to give him a shove. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"What have you done now?" he laughed, peering down at me through narrowed eyes.
"How do you..." I began, before correcting myself, "I haven't done anything."
"Oh no?" he said, amused. "Then why are you so jumpy? And why do you have that guilty look on your face?"
"I do not!" I protested, fighting hard to rearrange my face into what I hoped was a neutral expression.
"I know you too well," Lorin smiled, "I know all of your looks. You've done something bad.
Come on, tell me."
I glanced quickly from side to side to make sure nobody else was around, then grabbed my brother's hand and dragged him further into the trees, away from the path.
"Where are we going?" asked Lorin, confused, but I didn't answer. I marched on through rustling leaves and snapping twigs until I was sure we would not be seen by the others on their way to the plantation, before finally releasing my brother's arm and turning to face him.
"I have to tell you something," I said seriously.
"Oh," he rolled his eyes, "here we go."
"What?" I frowned.
"It's going to be something ridiculous," Lorin replied. "I can tell."
"Why would you say that?" I asked.
"Because it's you," he replied, folding his arms. "Come on then, what is it?"
I glared at him irritably. I felt like not telling him at all now. Whatever else happened, opening the box would be an adventure and Lorin didn't deserve to join in. I had stolen the key. He hadn't done anything. But then I remembered how lonely I had felt lying in bed last night, how scared I had been, and I realised I didn't want to do this alone. I couldn't do it alone. "Well," I began carefully, "there's this box that our father keeps under his bed--"
"What were you doing under the bed?" Lorin interjected.
"I wasn't," I replied, "I saw it when I was stealing his spell book."
"And that didn't teach you not to mess with things that aren't yours?" asked Lorin, the smile quite gone from his face now. "You almost died!"
"You don't need to remind me," I scowle
d at him, "besides, I'm not talking about the spell book now."
"No," said Lorin, "we're talking about something else you shouldn't be interested in.”
"There are ears in it," I blurted out quickly. Lorin stared at me for several long seconds before he spoke again.
"What did you say?" he asked finally.
"There are," I replied, "I swear, a little bag full of cut-off ears."
"You've lost your mind," said Lorin, the look on his face a mixture of confusion and worry. "I'm not lying!" I insisted. "Mama saw them too, and then I overheard her telling Avo that he's a matador, and the ears are from people he's murdered!"
"I don't believe it," said Lorin, shaking his head and pacing between two nearby trees, "it's ridiculous. You shouldn't make things like this up, you'll get in trouble."
"I'm not making it up!" I snapped, frustrated.
"Why should I believe you?" asked Lorin, halting his pacing to look down at me.
"You don't have to," said I, reaching into my pocket and producing the shiny little key. "I can show you."
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Diary
"I FEEL SICK in my stomach," I whispered as Lorin and I crept down the hallway towards our parents' room. I could hear the muffled voice of my mother talking to my grandmother in the kitchen not a few feet away, and knew that either one of them might appear at any time. "We should wait until nobody's around."
"I can't wait," replied Lorin in a low voice just behind my right ear. "I won't be able to sleep until I've seen for myself. Don't worry," he added, "it will be fun."
Fun was not the word I would have chosen to describe the situation. I was excited to open the box again, but terrified of what they might find in there, or worse what my father would do to us if he found out. My hand shook as I pushed open the bedroom door and, with a last glance around to make sure nobody was watching, darted inside and made straight for the spot at the foot of the bed where I knew the chest was hidden. Dropping to my knees, I felt for the edges of the box and pulled it towards me. It looked the same, bright and smooth and innocent, but felt lighter than I remembered.
"Okay," whispered I, fishing the key from my pocket with trembling fingers, "once I open it we have to be quick." I could feel Lorin's warm breath on my shoulder as he crouched behind me, waiting. It took a couple of attempts to fit the shaking key into the lock, and every time the little metal object knocked against the hard wood my heart skipped a beat and I glanced towards the door. Then with a soft click the key fit, and turned, and I lifted the top.
"Where is it?" asked Lorin, craning his head forward to see inside. "Where's the bag with the ears?"
"It's gone," I replied, disappointment skewering my heart like a hot needle. My mind was racing so fast it was hard to concentrate as my eyes flicked around the mostly empty space trying to remember what I had seen before. The guns were gone too, both of them, and something else I couldn't quite place. Only the battered little notebook remained, wrapped in a dirty strip of cloth and surrounded by a few loose candles.
"Maybe he took them with him," said Lorin.
"That doesn't make any sense," I replied. "Why would he take a bag of ears? And why ask mama to destroy them if he was going to take them with him anyway?"
"Maybe the answer is in here," said Lorin, reaching around me to snatch the notebook from the bottom of the box.
"We shouldn't," said I suddenly, my mother's sobs from the previous night coming back to my now. If my father found out what we were doing, he wouldn't just punish Lorin and I, I realised. He would punish our mother too, and who knows who else. Maybe he really would kill us all as she had feared. Seeing the notebook in Lorin's hands, the full consequences of what we were doing began to dawn upon me, and I had to fight not to throw up right there and then.
"Don't be silly," said Lorin, already heading towards the door. "Come on, let's go read it in the forest where no-one will see."
I had no choice. It was done now. Dropping the lid of the box closed and pushing it quickly back under the bed, I sprang to my feet and ran after him. As I reached the bedroom door, I realised that I had forgotten to lock the box and looked back, but the sound of something moving in the kitchen made me panic and I fled outside instead. I'll return it in a few hours, I told myself as the two of us raced towards the shelter of the trees, mama won't notice.
It was the middle of the afternoon, and the sun was bright in the sky as we slowed to a walk. We were off the beaten path now, away from any place the rest of the family might want to go. I spotted a tree that stood out from the others; tall and thick and beautiful, with a spot at its base that looked so inviting I made straight for it, sinking down onto the soft ground and beckoning for Lorin to join me.
"Give me the book," I said.
"Why can't I read it?" he replied, defensively.
"Because this was my idea," I said.
"You wanted to leave it!" he protested. "I think I should read it."
"Please," I said, glaring at him, "you wouldn't even know about it if it weren't for me. Can you even read?"
"Of course I can," Lorin replied, giving me a gentle shove as he sat down next to me.
"You're so rude, no wonder nobody likes you."
"You like me," I said, grinning at him and making a grab for the notebook.
"No I don't," said Lorin, snatching it away.
"Fine," I pouted, sulkily.
"Oh alright," said Lorin, "you read it." He held out the book and I grabbed it from him like a hungry dog securing a juicy bone, tearing off the thin cloth wrapped around it and opening it up to a random page.
"What is it?" asked Lorin, leaning in to see. I didn't answer right away. My eyes were skimming the page, growing wider and wider with each line.
"I think," I replied finally, "I think it's a diary."
"Read it," said Lorin quickly, his voice trembling with excitement. I forced my eyes back to the top of the page, and began:
July 19th 1958
Tomorrow is a big day for me. I don't want to do it, but they want me to. I am only 19. I don't live with my parents and they don't deserve to live with me.
My mother is of native Indian decent. My father came from Germany and hid here in the Amazon. When he came over, he captured a native Indian girl from a local tribe and made her his sex slave for the rest of his life. I guess I came from this, so I am half of everything.
When I came to live on the St Anna Farm, I was only 15. My boss was Mr Joseph and he took me as his own son. He showed me how to be a man.
On my 19th birthday, he gave me a rifle that had belonged to his own father. He said it would be my passport to maturity and he gave me a job as well. My first job.
I confess, I was really scared at first, but he told me what to do. He told me to sit in the bush, hidden from sight and wait for this man to come.
I'd never shot anyone before that, so was terrified, but all I had to do was make my boss proud of me.
I asked my boss why he wanted me to do it. He told me he wanted more land, but this man didn't want to sell it to him. Well, this sounded a good reason don't you think? Anyway, I was up for it, so I sat there behind the bush, hiding. I could see the gate which the man needed to pass through. He had to get off his horse to open it. I waited until he got down and then I shot him in the chest. He took a while to die, so I had to go over and finish the job.
I stopped reading. My head was spinning and my stomach turning over and over. Without a word I clambered to my feet, threw the book at my brother, and ran away into the forest.
I ran as fast as my skinny legs could carry me, away from the horrible book and the words that my father had written.
Lorin ran after me. "Emilia, stop, we must return home," he shouted. Lorin soon caught up with me and we both trekked back through the forest and made it home without anyone seeing us. Once back inside, Lorin kept watched by our parents’ bedroom door, while I threw the diary back into the box and quickly locked it again with the small key.
"Hurry," Lorin whispered, from the door threshold. "I can here mama coming."
I quickly ran to the door.
"We can read it again tomorrow. I'm curious to know what else our father has done," Lorin said.
I nodded. I felt sick inside, but also had a burning curiosity to know what else was written in the diary.
CHAPTER 21
The First Time
THE NEXT MORNING I awoke early. My first thoughts were my father's diary, but before I had time to get out of bed, Lorin appeared at my bedroom door.
"Come on lazy. What are you waiting for?" he said, waving our father’s little black book in his hand.
"You have been to get it already?!" I said.
"Mother is cooking. Come on quick, let's go."
I quickly dressed and we both sneaked out of the house and ran along the trampled path through the forest to the spot we'd been at the day before. I fell against the thick trunk of the large tree, panting from the run, and from nervous excitement at reading the diary again. I was hot too, the thick forest canopy acting like an oven as it absorbed the heat from the early morning sun.
"You read it, I can't," I said, looking at the diary in my brother's hands.
“Ok, where were we yesterday. Here it is,” Lorin said, as he turned a page and started reading.
The feeling was terrible and I threw up on the body. I didn't tell my boss that I'd done that as he would not be proud. I had to hide the body as well, and cut off the man's ear to show my boss that I'd completed the job. I felt sick again doing it.
After taking the ear as a trophy, I made a grave in the woods by the river and put the corpse there. It was dark and I could not see properly. I had a bath in the river, but the smell of blood was on my body and I couldn't get rid of it.
Daughter of the Forest: Diary of an Assassin Page 10