by Anya Allyn
We’d only been out of bed for four or so hours.
Sophronia brought the tea cart around.
I sipped the tea, meaning to throw the rest out when I could. But I drank it all. Guilt crushed into me—I should be doing all I could to stay awake, to figure out what to do next. A heaviness dragged through my body. I slipped further and further down—a drowning person slipping deeper into a mire.
Slipping straight into a dream—intense sunlight drenched the air. I wandered within a day I’d spent with my class on South Beach, Miami—back when I was ten or eleven. Waves washed over my feet, and the sun—big as a satellite dish—dazzled my eyes. I lost the school group and become hungry. I went pleading to strangers along the beach for food. They were eating cakes and ice-cream, french fries and doughnuts. But no one, not one person, would give me even a bite.
17. DARKEST WAY
I woke again in the bed chamber, my arms stiff on my chest.
Philomena refused to leave her bed when Jessamine came in. She turned her head and cried into the pillow, her small shoulder blades trembling.
I thought quickly, sitting up in the bed. “It's a nice morning for a picnic, isn't it?” I tried to sound light, looking around at the other girls.
Missouri and Sophronia nodded.
Jessamine twirled a blonde ponytail in her hand. “We never do picnics.”
“Just this once? We can lay out the tablecloth on the floor, and we can wear hats... and recite poetry.” I squeezed my eyes closed for a moment, wondering if I'd gone too far.
She wrinkled her forehead as she considered my words. “Well—it’s about time one of you had an idea like that. It does get tiresome having to plan everything myself. We’ll have pancakes!”
Stepping over to Philomena, she eyed her with concern. “I don’t want you feeling poorly—you are the most delightful little doll.”
I rushed from the room before she had a chance to change her mind about the picnic and pancakes. Sophronia was right behind me. She pulled flour and powdered eggs from the cupboard while I folded the tablecloth.
She nodded at me.
I took the tablecloth down the passage. My legs were unsteady—my stomach practically eating itself. Aisha and Ethan slept on rugs on the floor of their cells.
Spreading out the huge tablecloth, I noticed the grandfather clock had the time set at four in the afternoon. I’d slept more than an entire day—maybe more. We all had.
The stocks of firewood were growing lower by the day—Henry didn’t seem to be replenishing much down here. I lit the kindling, then threw two logs in the fireplace. I tried not to think about what would happen if further supplies were not sent.
Warmth spread over the surfaces of my body. I ran back to grab the hats from the dressing room.
The clock raced around to seven in the morning as Sophronia set the stack of pancakes down on the cloth. Jessamine pranced in after her—dressed in a white dress with yellow ties and a white hat.
Missouri carried Philomena in. She met my eyes, but hastily looked away. I handed a hat to each girl.
We knelt to a breakfast of pancakes with sprinkles of sugar on top—Sophronia had made enough for an army. They tasted watery—I guessed she’d not wanted to use the powdered milk at full-strength. Powdered milk stocks were running low enough already. But it felt intensely good to feel food passing into my stomach.
Philomena was uncharacteristically quiet as she ate.
I slipped four pancakes into my bloomers while Jessamine was busy singing Philomena a song. Jessamine did care about Philomena in some sense, I guessed. Perhaps she cared about all of the girls. But she was impossible to figure out. How could it be her who imprisoned us here, as Aisha said it was? She was stuck here too, suffering the same fate as us.
We read poetry and passages after breakfast, none of us caring too much about the words.
Jessamine was the exception, and she read at length. I chilled at the last selection she chose to read:
Out of this wood do not desire to go:
Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate;
The summer still doth tend upon my state;
And I do love thee: therefore, go with me;
I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee,
And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep,
And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep;
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go.
Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!
Singing commenced directly after the poetry readings. The voices of the girls rose eerily around the spaces of the ballroom as they chanted nursery rhyme after nursery rhyme.
Jessamine tired soon after breakfast. She seemed to have forgotten about all the activities she had planned. She retired to the bed chamber while we were left to our own devices. Clown guarded us, ensuring we didn’t communicate with each other. We were allowed bathroom breaks, singly. I curtsied to Clown and left the room.
Aisha slept on the floor of her cell. Ethan sat with his back against the wall, staring up into nothingness.
I slid down to the floor, sitting in front of Ethan’s cell. “Hey, Captain.”
His face pulled into a taut grin. “Hey.”
“Been on any good raids, lately?”
“Yeah. I raided the bank and took off with their stocks of gold.”
“Try raiding the local grocery store, next time, Captain.”
“Good idea. I’ll put that on the raiding list.”
I pulled out the pancakes and slipped them through the bars. Ethan nodded gratefully, secreting half of them inside his jacket. He ate quickly, stuffing them down his throat in a few gulps.
I eyed him with a serious face. “Ethan, every time I come by here, I’m afraid you or Aisha will be gone, disappeared into the walls. Like Lacey.”
“I know. I have the same thoughts.”
“We have no control here. And the clocks—they keep crazy time. We don’t even know how much time is going past.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about time. Time isn’t linear. Time goes backwards and forwards and around. My people on my mother’s side were Aboriginal. They believed in circular time. Science is just starting to catch up.”
“Thanks.” I gave him a tight-lipped smile.
“Hey, it’s dangerous for you to be here.”
“Yeah. I know. See you on my next trip into town.”
“I’ll be here.” He pretended to tip a cowboy hat.
I rose and stepped away into the corridor.
“Hey, Girl Wonder.” He silently jerked his chin upward, indicating for me to come back.
I turned around, moving up close to hear him.
He held the bars of his cell. “You were my wingman, all the way out there in the forest. The way you came running when you'd just had Fiveash's dogs after you—yelling like a banshee about getting into the shed—that was something to see.”
I gave a short, sad laugh, sliding a hand down a bar next to Ethan's hand. That scene seemed so far away now.
I flinched as I noticed Aisha standing, staring rigidly across at us. I hadn't noticed her awake. Not that I was doing anything with Ethan, but still, I felt caught out, exposed.
“What's going on here?” she demanded.
“Aish... we were just talking,” Ethan told her.
“It didn't look like just talking.”
He opened up his jacket. “Look, she brought us pancakes.”
I wanted to say something. But the look on Aisha's face told me I was better not to intrude.
Her pale eyes glazed. “I—I've been down here all this time,” she told him. “wondering what was happening... out there. Wondering who you were with. Wondering when you were going to forget about me.”
He let the jacket lapel drop, eyeing her attentively. “And that's never. I was never going to forget you. I would have searche
d for you forever.”
Something crossed Aisha's face. “Did you know I was alive?”
Ethan went to answer, but hung his head, shaking it.
Aisha went silent, hugging herself.
She stepped up to the bars, closing fists around them. “If you thought I was dead... then you weren't really looking for me. You were just looking for... an ending.”
“I just wanted you. So badly. But if I couldn't have you, I needed to know what happened to you.”
Her eyelids drifted down. “I thought about you every day, wrapped myself in the words you said to me—and every night after we were given that horrible tea, I dreamt about you. But to you... I've just been a ghost.”
“I hoped. But I'm a realist. It's who I am. I still thought about you every second of every day.”
It was time to step away—let them talk. I turned to go.
“How do I know Lacey was even really with you two, out in the forest?”
Aisha's words sharpened in my back.
“Lacey was there,” Ethan countered.
I knew her words were meant for me. I moved around to face her.
She met me with a level gaze. “You were sleeping out there in the forest with Ethan. Did anything happen? Did you two... kiss?”
Heat flew to my temples. The kiss had been numb, stupid—it didn't count, surely?
Her eyes grew round and intense. She glared from me to Ethan.
“Nothing happened,” said Ethan with a note of finality.
Aisha shook her head stiffly, fingers curling around the bars.
“Help!” she screamed. “Please! Help!”
Jessamine appeared in the corridor. Raggedy Ann moved out behind her.
Aisha bent her forehead to the bars, staring at the floor. “That girl. She kissed the prisoner. And she gave him food.”
Ethan backed away in his cell, shock and hurt registering on his face.
“You, Evander, will stay in there an eternity if you do not repent.” Jessamine eyed Ethan with repulsion. She whirled around to me. “And you, Calliope, if you wish to drink from the cup of darkness, so be it.”
Ethan mouthed a single word to me. Run.
I ached to flee, but the thought of the doll suffocating me laced my brain with poison fear. Raggedy Ann stepped behind me, and I walked. Without looking back.
They marched me along the corridor to the dressing chamber. Jessamine pointed towards the dummies that wore the black dress and the wedding dress. “You are to wear this.”
Trembling, I took a step forward. “I thought we were forbidden to wear either?"
She scowled. "Henry insists that the bridal gown stay here, but I would die before I ever wore it. No, you are not to wear either, except if I instruct you otherwise. And it is the black dress you are to wear."
I slid my dress over my hips and shoulders and stood there cold and frozen in the slip. The doll moved in closer. I hastened to take the stiff, black dress from the dummy. As I pulled it over my head, the material seemed to crawl over me, clutching and molding to my body.
I ached to tear the dress off again. But Jessamine stood there with cold eyes. She walked back to the corridor. Raggedy waited for me to follow Jessamine before plodding behind me.
We were headed for the ballroom. Was I to be paraded in front of everyone in this ugly dress?
But Jessamine turned off at the end of the passageway. Left.
My spine froze. Not in there. Please, not in there.
She continued down into The Dark Way.
The mouth of the passage was a giant black mouth ready to swallow me. Jessamine slipped inside the darkness. I stopped, unable to move. But the doll pushed against me, sending me forward.
The dress twisted against my body.
A dress can't do that. You're going insane. Everyone down here was insane, or close to it—how could you be anything else in this place?
Jessamine bent to pick up a lamp. I shuddered with relief as light streaked through the passage. But the question of why we were here was spiked my mind.
Ethan had said the passage came to a dead-end only a few minutes in. Up ahead, the lamplight showed the wall he had described.
Jessamine stepped up to it and pressed a section of wall. A bone-crushing sound echoed in the tunnel—the sound of rock grinding against rock—immensely heavy rock.
The light now illuminated a cathedral-like arched corridor through the rock wall. Whatever lay on the other side, I didn't want to see it.
I followed Jessamine's slight frame through the corridor. The doll remained on the other side. Drips from the ceiling landed on my neck, dribbling wetly down my shoulder.
The passage wound around and down—ever down. It seemed this journey would never end, and I'd be walking this path forever. My heart was clay, clamped to my ribcage. The light touched upon something deep red in the distance. Something with velvety folds that hung vertically, like curtains. It almost looked like a cubicle—or like the confessionals you saw in old churches.
Jessamine stopped to face me then, her face in a shadowy glow above the lamplight—her eyes hard like stones.
“You will spend some time here.” She indicated towards the area of red. “ And you will not return until you have learned how to conduct yourself.”
She stepped away from me, then stopped without turning around. “We must stay exactly as we are, Calliope.”
She left, taking the light with her.
I crept close to the wall as all light deserted me. I backed myself up against the rock wall. Were there more giant toys in here, waiting to jump at me and pin me to the wall? A thin warm trickle raced down my leg.
I had to find my way back. I felt along the rock, my fingers scratching and scraping at the rock. Water streamed down the rock face. My hands slid on slime.
The sound of scraping rock filled the air, echoing hollowly.
The doorway was closed. I was trapped here. I struggled to control my ragged breaths. Cold and wet penetrated my entire body. Complete and utter darkness was when you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. But the tunnel held an even deeper darkness than that. I was losing myself—my mind.
Desperately, I commanded my body to stop trembling. It refused. But I had to do whatever I needed to do to get out of here.
My legs moved woodenly forward. There was no point of reference in the black that surrounded me. Not even a pinpoint of light. I stepped one foot in front of the other, hoping my steps were straight.
A heavy material enveloped me. My heart gripped itself. My arms flailed as I pushed it away from me. I knocked into something—something wooden. A chair. A normal-sized chair—not the enormous ones of the kitchen and ballroom. I sat, grateful to have something solid—an anchor—something that wasn't made of oily darkness.
I felt around me. The curtains were close all around, musty, drafts rising in around my ankles. Directly in front, just a rock wall. But smoother. My hands blindly felt around the surfaces. Smoother than rock. Carved, maybe. A stone face, a stone arm.
A lamp.
My fingers shook as I lifted the lamp free from the stone arm. I twisted the knob. A vague light took hold in the glass.
The light traced the curves and creases of a stone statue—a man. A saint. In his eyes and mouth, pieces of clear glass. Wet moss covered half his face and shoulders. The statue was set into the rock wall, beneath an overhanging rock —like a grotto.
“Help me,” I whispered.
I held the lamp with both hands, turning to see around the cubicle. It was simply made of four wooden posts, with curtains hung all around. The chair behind me had a carousel horse carved into it. The chair was worn.
The dress tightened around me, drawing in around my chest and waist—then seemed to disintegrate, swarm over me—like black insects.
I jumped back in the chair, trying to pull the dress off.
But Jessamine said I must wear it.
Shaking, I stayed seated as the material scuttled across my b
ody. I crawled inside my mind, trying to find a thought, a memory—something to take me away.
Remember. The ocean—shimmering under sunlight. Swimming like a dolphin, with dolphins, like a bright silver streak, only knowing sunlight and motion through the clear blue water. But now I'm falling, deep underwater. Into the cold depths, into the darkness... .
Can't hold onto the memory... .
Let it go, Cassie. Find another day, a day in the sun.
The dress squirmed.
Remember. A picnic with mom. In a park with old trees. I am five. My bike is new and green. Silvery-green, the best green anyone ever saw. My first bike without training wheels. And I can ride it. I just need one more try. One more try with mom holding the back of the bike, as I wobble forward. But the trees are wrong. They're slipping straight down, straight into the earth, clods of dirt flying in the air... .
Remember. I'm at school. First day here. Heats burns through the asphalt into my shoes. I hate the uniform, hate the looks the other students give me. I hate the town. This wasn't what I was promised by mom and Lance. I see Ethan. He smiles his uneven smile—not like a boy smiling at a girl—more like a brother-in-arms, a comrade, an acknowledgment. He doesn't want to be there either. He keeps smiling, grinning as he throws something casually over his shoulder—a jacket. No, larger, heavier than a jacket. He turns and walks into darkness. He has a girl on his shoulder—me—I'm unconscious and he's taking me through a tunnel... .
Remember. I see a girl running through tall grasses. I'm looking down from a high window. A river winds through the land below. The girl's dress is a pale color, like her hair. She spins around and around, tilting her head upward to the azure sky. I hate her. My skin bristles, up to the back of my neck. To the left of her, in the distance, trees and bushes bend and gnarl, winding to form a tunnel. I want her to go into the tunnel, I want the woods to close around her... .
Remember. You're in small, confined space. A carriage. Antique wood paneling. Circus motifs on the walls. A wooden bed with a thin mattress. A man—sitting at a simple desk—the desk bolted to the wall. The carriage is moving, travelling over bumpy ground—a railway track. I see mountains through the small dusty window-pane—bare, reddish mountains. I know the mountains. I've been there with mom. The Copper Canyon mountains in Mexico. The man sketches a picture of the peaks, his face in shadows. He jerks his head around, fixes surprised eyes on me. He reaches to pull me down to him, putting his mouth on mine—his kiss hard and passionless... .