Elizabeth handed Jackson two sets of handcuffs and a linking chain.
“This is going to get very messy kid, are you sure you want to be here?” Jackson asked James.
“Yes sir.” James nodded. “I am here for Miss Charlotte no matter what.”
“You are a true gentleman. Charlotte has a gift, which we will explain all to you after today. If anyone asks, she left for London this evening.” Jackson said. “You will have a new role soon.”
James was speechless and nodded.
Jackson cuffed Jacks hands behind his back, he then cuffed his ankles and using the linking chain, he pulled his legs up and cuffed them to the handcuffs, preventing him from moving his arms and legs.
Jack woke up and groaned.
“Jesus Christ.” Jackson snapped and punched Jack in the side of the jaw. There was a crunch and a dull thud from his jaw breaking and his head contacting the solid wooden floor. “Stay down!”
Elizabeth gagged him, looking up at Jackson she nodded.
Jackson grabbed Jack by his shirt and dragged him over to Charlotte, laying him next to her. He ripped open the shirt, revealing his bare chest.
“It is time.” Elizabeth said to Charlotte and stood up, all three of them stepped away from the table, standing against the wall and turning their backs. James was face forward, watching.
“I would turn around if I was you mate.” Jackson said.
James nodded and turned.
Charlotte groaned as she turned on her side, reaching over and placing her hand on Jacks' chest. Jacks eyes sprung open and the gag muffled his screams. Charlotte growled and started to convulse. Jack let out a muffled scream of agony and became still, eyes open wide.
Charlotte arced her back and let out an agonised primal scream.
Jack howled in terror, covering his ears as Jackson comforted him, holding onto him.
Charlotte screamed for a few minutes continuously before suddenly becoming quiet.
Marie watched, her hands covering her ears as Charlotte’s body changed, a violent transformation of bones cracking and muscles contracting. She watched as Charlotte was reduced to a toddler.
James collapsed, his ears and nose bleeding. Jackson turned him on his side, making sure he didn’t choke when he vomited violently, paralysed and unable to move.
“Be strong kid.” Jackson said. “It will pass.”
“Jackson.” Elizabeth called.
Elizabeth stood by the table holding the naked toddler, pale and fazed. She started to cry, confused and afraid.
“Oh, my little girl.” Jackson said and stood up, walking to Elizabeth with his hands up.
Charlotte cried, smiled a little and cried again.
Elizabeth handed her to Jackson, before removing her jacket and wrapping it around the child.
“Don’t worry my little one.” Jackson had tears in his eyes. “All will be okay.”
James stood up, shock in his face when he saw the little girl in Jackson's arms.
“Is that?” James tried to speak. “Charlotte?”
Jackson nodded.
“Here.” Jackson handed the girl to James, she put her hand on his nose and smiled. “She likes you.” He smiled. “Go back to the house with Elizabeth. I need to sort things out here.”
James nodded and followed Elizabeth as she left.
Jackson sat on the edge of the table, looking down at the body of Jack.
“So, life started again?” Marie said. “For you?”
“All of us.” Catherine smiled and stood up. “Jackson sponsored James and sent him off to a boarding school in Kent. We then moved to London for a fresh start. Charlotte died in a fire, started by Jack who was overcome by the smoke and killed fire he started.”
“Jackson?” Marie said.
Catherine nodded.
“The only way to explain things was to stage a fire, so Jackson started the fire after removing the chains. The fire burned so hotly that the two bodies were too badly burnt. James testified in court, stating that Jack had forced his way in waving a gun around and went after Charlotte.” Catherine said and walked up to Jackson. “It wasn’t the first or last time Jackson did something like this.”
“Okay.” Marie said. “Did you remember everything?”
“No. Catherine shook her head. “They didn’t remind me until I was twelve and fell out of a tree. I broke my back in two places, several minutes later I was back up the tree.” Catherine laughed. “That is when I learned of Kimimela for the second time.”
“Kimimela is a beautiful name.” Marie smiled. “What does it mean?”
“Come on.” Catherine said. “We need to leave.” Catherine walked to the door and opened it, closing it behind her.
Marie stood in the middle of the room and sighed.
“Wait for me.” She said in sarcasm and walked up to the door, opening it.
London – 1936
The girl lay on the mattress, curled up in a ball. The small blanket barely covered her naked body. Her long black hair, messy and her face bloodied. The room was empty other than the old, stained mattress. The walls, damp and damaged, wallpaper peeling and stripped. The ceiling heavily covered in mould. The wooden flooring, worn and stained.
“Please.” The girl said softly. “I want to go home.”
Marie opened the door and then closed it behind her, the smell of damp and mould hit her.
“Oh my god!” She covered her nose. “That is rank.”
She saw the young girl laying on the mattress.
“Oh no.” She moaned.
Catherine sat in the corner of the room, her knees against her chest. Tears in her eyes.
“Catherine?” Marie said. “Is this you?”
Catherine nodded.
“What happened?” Marie gasped. “How old were you?”
Catherine stood up and walked over to Marie.
“I was kidnapped by a man I trusted. I was fourteen.” Catherine’s voice juddered. “I was held here for nearly a week.”
“Oh my god.” Marie covered her mouth.
“He raped me twice a day, sometimes more.” She groaned. “One day he even bathed me and said he was sorry, before letting his friends pay to rape me.” Catherine looked at the girl on the floor. “Things were very different this time.”
“How do you mean?” Marie took hold of her hand, consoling her.
“My parents decided to hide my true identity from me.” Catherine explained. “They never told me my name, so I never became Kimimela until this day.”
“So, you knew nothing of who you were or what you could do?” Marie asked.
“No.” Catherine forced a smile. “I was petrified and wanted my parents.” She looked down at the girl, tears running down her face.
“What was your name?” Marie asked.
“Isabelle.” Catherine said. “The man lived on the same street as us. I got lost in London late one evening and he offered to walk me home after a group of young men made me uncomfortable.” She knelt next to Isabelle. “He overpowered me and dragged me here, locking me in this room. I refused his advances and he beat me unconscious. When I woke, he was raping me.”
“Jesus Christ.” Marie shook her head.
“I fought the next day and the same thing happened, he beat me.” Catherine groaned. “The more noise I made, the more he hurt me.”
“How did you escape?” Marie wiped tears from her face.
“You will see in a moment.” Catherine said. “My gift saved me.”
The door was kicked open and the man walked in, wearing only brown trousers. His hair cut short and his face clean-shaven. He was short and muscular, scars on his arms and chest from where he had been burnt. He held a half-empty bottle of whiskey, closing the door and locking it he walked up to Isabelle.
“You going to have a bath?” He said softly.
Isabelle whimpered.
“Doesn’t bother me either way bitch.” He smirked and kneeled in front of her.
Isabelle
moved away from him, crying.
“You can fight me.” He laughed. “But you know how that goes.”
“Please.” Isabelle begged. “I want to go home.”
“You know I cannot do that.” He shook his head.
“I won’t tell anyone.” She cried. “I promise.”
He pulled the blanket off her and she attempted to cover her bloody and bruised body.
“Why are you shy?” He laughed. “You haven’t anything I have not seen before.” He taunted and scratched himself. “Give me a good time and I will feed you.” Placing the bottle next to her head, he got down on the mattress and forced her legs apart, climbing on top of her, fumbling to undo his trousers.
Isabelle cried, putting her hands against his chest in defence.
Catherine turned away, unable to watch. Marie kept on watching, her hand covering her mouth as she watched the man rape Isabelle, ignoring her cries of pain.
“Why are you so noisy?” The man groaned. “Have a goddamned drink.”
Isabelle looked at the bottle and shook her head.
“Then shut up!” He snapped. “You are ruining my mood!”
Isabelle screamed and cried.
“Warned you.” The man snarled and punched Isabelle in the side of the face.
Groaning she choked and spat out blood and teeth, she looked at him and moaned, spitting blood in the man’s face.
“Bitch!” The man growled and rained punches down on Isabelle, continuously hitting her in the face. He laid on top of her, breathing heavily and groaning.
“Got to say that has been the best.” He laughed, tormenting her. “Not going to be able to sell you now with that face.”
Isabelle laid dazed, coughing and choking. She tilted her head and looked at the whiskey bottle. She reached for it, groaning and whimpering.
The bottle smashed into the side of the man's face when he looked up, glass dug into his eye and he screamed, trying to remove the glass.
Isabelle howled and slammed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. The man convulsed and rolled off Isabelle who growled, he kept one of her hands on his chest and her eyes rolled back. Picking up the neck of the broken bottle, she brought it down on the man's face and let out a primal scream.
The scream cut into Marie’s brain like a knife, she groaned and covered her eyes, falling backward and screaming in agony.
The scream echoed in her ears to her, which felt like minutes.
“Marie?” Catherine called. “Are you okay?”
Marie opened her eyes to find Catherine leaning over her.
“Stand up.” Catherine held out her hand.
Marie took her hand and stood up.
“I am so sorry that happened to you.” Marie cried.
The baby lay on the mattress, crying.
“Meet Catherine.” Catherine smiled.
“Oh my god.” Marie wiped tears from her eyes. “What happened after this.” She shivered. “It is so cold.”
“Lucky for me, I was found a few hours later.” Catherine explained. “Someone across the street heard his screams and called the police.”
“Was you returned to Jackson and Elizabeth?” Marie asked.
“No. I was sent to an orphanage in North London.” Catherine sighed. “When I didn’t return home, Jackson spoke to his contacts within the police who explained of a dead body found with a new-born.” She walked over to the baby and sat down. “Would appear I was not the first victim, they found the bodies of two young girls buried in the yard.”
“Oh my god.” Marie gasped. “How did they know that it was you?”
“Good question.” Catherine laughed and pointed to a small birthmark on the baby, on the collar bone near the right arm. “See that?” The birthmark looked like a small brown tattoo of a butterfly.
Marie looked closer and nodded.
Catherine pulled her top down a little and revealed the same birthmark.
“This is how they knew who I was.” Catherine said. “The orphanage agreed to let Jackson and Elizabeth adopt me, and Jackson compensated them generously. I lived life as normal and when I turned ten, they called me by my true name, and I experienced everything from the moment I received my gift.”
“Do they have the gift?” Marie asked curiously.
“Jackson and Elizabeth?” Catherine laughed. “No.”
“Then how?” Marie wanted to know. “How are they still.” She stuttered. “Alive?”
Catherine walked to the door.
“Come with me.” Catherine opened the door and stepped into the darkness. Marie looked down at the baby, smiled and then walked after Catherine.
Catherine and Marie walked through the open door, Marie looked around.
“This looks like a lodge I stayed in last year with my father.” Marie said. “Only nicer.”
Catherine smiled and sat down at the small wooden table.
“Where is this?” Marie asked Catherine.
“This is where Jackson and Elizabeth stayed. They worked for the army, Jackson was a medic and Elizabeth ran the stores.” Catherine explained. “Elizabeth was resting after she got a fever. Jackson was called to treat soldiers after the massacre.”
Marie nodded, joining her at the table.
“He was under orders, but when he saw what had happened. His heart grew heavy.” Catherine sighed. “He was sent out to look for survivors, only soldiers. That was when he found me.”
“In the shack?” Marie asked.
“Yes. My grandmother was still alive. She reached out for him and whispered in his ear, Jackson knew some Lakota language.” Catherine explained.
“What did she whisper to him?” Marie said.
“She told him that I must be protected, and that I have a gift.” Catherine coughed. “She then touched Jackson's chest, and showed him what happened with the soldier.”
“Then what happened?” Marie asked.
“Jackson experienced what had happened to me, he also saw my real parents and the gift that my grandparents had.” Catherine started to cry. “He experienced years and years, but only seconds passed for him.”
Marie put her hand on Catherine’s.
“Jackson didn’t hesitate. He wrapped me up and brought me here.” Catherine looked towards the door.
Elizabeth lay on the wooden bed by the window, breathing shallowly and her face pale. She held onto the blanket, shivering. A wet cloth lay on her head, covering her eyes. The log fire crackled, the flames dancing against the draft.
The door flew open, slamming against the wall. Jackson ran in, wearing a blue army uniform and a grey overcoat, kicking the door closed, he bolted it and leant against it, breathing heavily.
“Jackson?” Elizabeth said weakly, removing the cloth from her head. “What is all the noise about.” She looked at him standing by the door, holding something against his chest.
Jackson started to cry.
“Jackson?” Elizabeth was worried. “What is it?” She forced herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed and wrapping the blanket around herself.
“They murdered them.” Jackson groaned. “The army murdered the Lakota!”
“What?” Elizabeth gasped. “All of them?”
“Three hundred or so.” He cried. “Men. Women and children!”
The baby started to cry.
“What do you have there?” Elizabeth smiled.
Jackson walked over to Elizabeth, revealing the baby wrapped in skins.
“I need to tell you something.” He smiled through the tears. “And we need to leave.”
He handed the baby to Elizabeth who gasped. The baby stopped crying, her eyes fixed on Elizabeth.
“She is beautiful.” Elizabeth said. “Her family?”
“All dead.” Jackson groaned. “Her grandmother was still alive when I got there, but she died shortly after telling me about the child.”
Elizabeth listened as Jackson explained the story and the visions, Elizabeth breastfed the baby, and became st
ronger.
“So, what happened?” Marie asked.
“They named me Charlotte and took a boat to Southampton. They then made their way to Scotland.” Catherine explained. “When I was fifteen years old. Jackson gave me my name. Kimimela.”
“And it came back to you?” Marie said, glancing at the baby and then back to Catherine.
“I woke after sleeping for a couple of days.” Catherine laughed. “I didn’t sleep quite sometime after that. I got to know more about Jackson and Elizabeth. With all this being about Kimimela, they slipped out of the picture. The truth is they have been in this just as long as I have.”
“How have they lived for so long, without a gift?” Marie asked.
“I have been curing them. Every now and then I give them a little.” Catherine tried to find the word. “Boost.”
“Some boost.” Marie gasped. “They are well over a hundred and fifty years old!” She exclaimed.
“Never talk about age to Elizabeth.” Catherine smiled. “She can still give a nasty smack.”
Catherine stood up, looked at Jackson with Elizabeth and smiled.
“Their love for each other has never wavered.” Catherine kissed her fingers and blew it at them. “Never.”
“Nor their love for you.” Marie said, watching as Catherine approached the door. She stopped and looked at Marie.
“You need to go back.” Catherine said. “You have been asleep a long time.”
“How long?” Marie asked. “I haven’t been here that long.”
“This is all in your head.” Catherine said. “Time means nothing here.” She walked through the door and Marie followed.
“Why did you try and push us away?” Marie asked.
Marie descended the basement steps, looking at Catherine who stood by a pool of blood.
“What?” Catherine was confused.
“When you were Anna. You pushed Sophie away, refused to see us.” Marie said. “Why?”
“I was afraid.” Catherine said. “Those close to me tend to come to harm.”
“That isn’t true.” Marie said.
“Sophie?” Catherine said. “If it was not for me, Sophie would never have been hit by a car.”
“If it wasn’t for you, she would have died.” Marie snapped.
“I cured her injuries.” Catherine said softly. “I owed her that much.”
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