by Kris Calvert
“Holy shit!” Ray yelled as he pulled me from the counter. Shielding me with his body, we hovered on the floor as shards of glass and hot light fell all around us.
When it seemed as if it was over, I opened my eyes again and looked back to the ceiling. The cord that was once swinging like a child at the park was completely still—a blackened nub of what was once the light bulb. It sizzled as electricity still coursed through the connection.
“Are you okay?” Ray was out of breath from the lovemaking and the shock.
“Yes,” I said calmly.
“What in the hell was that?”
“Faulty wiring?” I gave him a half smile, hoping to lighten up the whole scene.
Ray took a deep breath. I could tell he was trying to come down from what happened. “Holy hell. I hope this isn’t an omen of what’s to come while renovating this place.” He pulled himself from the floor and lifted his jeans from his ankles to rest on his hips before reaching for me. “We’re going to have to be more careful.”
“Careful how?” I asked as I picked my t-shirt off the floor, slopping it over my head and digging my way into the armholes. “The place is old. It needs some TLC, that’s all. We’ll be nice to it, and in turn, it will be nice to us,” I said as I placed my hands around his neck and pulled him close for a hug. “It’s karma, that’s all. Good old fashioned karma.”
4
BEAUTY
I stirred as my head hit the pillow. Edmund laid my body across the bed, still unmade from my hasty departure earlier. He brushed the hair from my eyes. “What am I going to do with you, beautiful girl?”
I shook my head in confusion as the pain that I’d only felt momentarily on impact now rushed ferociously through my brain.
As I lay somewhere between consciousness and a dream, I watched Edmund look to my writing table littered with papers—papers I wasn’t supposed to have.
Giving me another glance before walking away, he pushed the papers around with his fingers. I blinked hard, knowing I’d left a drawing of him on the top of the stack. I closed my eyes in embarrassment.
“Don’t,” I murmured.
Edmund had a smile on his face as he turned to me. “These are beautiful. You’re very talented. Do you know that?”
I turned my face away as a single tear rolled down my cheek. Filled with pain from the blow to my head and confusion from the blackout, I didn’t know whether to try to take the drawings from Edmund, or allow myself to be caught red-handed with the forbidden papers.
Edmund rolled up the drawing of himself with pride and tucked it just past his pocket watch and inside his vest. As for the rest, he gathered them without looking and shoved them under the mattress of my bed knowing after my episode, Anna would be along to check on me.
“What happened?” Anna bellowed on cue as the door to my chambers opened wide causing a damp breeze from the dark hallway to permeate the room.
“She had another…spell,” said Edmund.
Obviously disgusted with me, Anna shook her head and curled her lip. “She’s a useless piece of garbage that one.”
The comment caught me off guard and in my haze I looked to Edmund. His strong jawline clenched as if he was holding his tongue. Anna scoffed at him and curled her lip.
“Boris is looking for you everywhere. You were supposed to meet him fifteen minutes ago.”
Edmund backed away from my bedside and reluctantly left the room. Anna peered over me, shook her head in disgust and said one word before spitting on me. “Bitch.”
The door slammed and I slowly came back from the world of darkness and into the morning light of my room. Immediately I thought of the papers I’d hastily left lying about when Zara came for me.
Sitting up, I rubbed the knot on my forehead. I didn’t know which was worse, the sick pain coursing through my body from the fall or the spittle now on my robe. Focusing my eyes on the table across the small room, I saw it was bare. Frantic that the queen had taken my drawings, I began to search the room and remembered—Edmund.
Digging through the armoire for my papers, I decided to take off the robe, wondering if perhaps it was the reason I’d fallen in the banquet hall in the first place.
“Stupid thing,” I muttered as I closed the double doors to the ancient piece of furniture. With a heavy sigh I scanned the room and found a sliver of paper peeking out from under the old mattress. I lifted the dust-filled bed and found my drawings and notes safely tucked away. “Thank you.”
Doing my best to not make a sound, I moved the armoire away from the wall, running my hands along the rough edges of the floorboard. “Ouch!” I pulled my hand back as if the floor had given me a bite. A long splinter sat just inside the skin of my middle finger. I’d found the spot. Pushing on the floorboard, it loosened and I pulled it away from the others. There below the floor of the castle of Rosewood were my most prized possessions. Maps I’d drawn of the grounds, words and poems I’d written, dreams I’d had that I watched come to fruition. Anything I couldn’t risk being found went into the floor.
After placing the board back in its original spot, I moved the oak foot of the dresser to sit safely on top. Pushing myself against the wall, I sat in the floor as I pried the wooden sliver from under my skin. On my third attempt I managed to grasp the piece of wood between my short fingernails, painfully sliding it out of my finger.
I sat for only a moment, wiping the blood on my dress. I stood and slid a single sheet of paper from under my bed, taking it to the desk.
Day 1509. At least that’s my best guess as to how long I’ve been here. The episodes are coming on faster and stronger now. I fell and hit my head. I’m unsure of which happened first, the fall or the darkness. Queen Anna is becoming suspicious of me. I can tell by the way she looks at me. There was also a girl brought to the castle this morning. I’m unsure
“What is going on here?”
I froze at the sound of the Anna’s voice. “Nothing.”
She walked around the desk and I was aware of two things in that moment. The sound her shoes made on the old wooden floor and her heavy breathing. Each step seemed to take an eternity and the rattled sound from her lungs caused me to hold my own breath.
The writing table shook as Anna slammed her palm onto the hard surface, shaking the very pencil from my frozen hand. I flinched at impact but still stared straight ahead, too afraid to look at her.
“Do you know what happens to those who break the rules at Rosewood?”
I closed my eyes and winced at her rancid breath, blowing directly into my face with each word she said.
“I only wished to write—” I began.
“Write?” Anna shouted. “Write what?”
“A poem,” I stuttered through my words. “A verse.”
“You are not allowed to have a writing instrument. Did you not know this?”
I remained silent. Of course I knew the rules. “I did.”
Anna yanked the pencil from my hand. “I can’t wait to tell Boris about this.”
“No!” I stood at attention, knocking the chair to the floor with a violent screech.
Taking a step toward me, the queen grabbed me by the hair and twisted with all her might. I screamed in anguish as my head contorted unnaturally to the side. “Please,” I cried in agony.
“Anna!”
I heard the queen being summoned down the hall.
“What is it?” Anna called back as she tightened her grip on my hair refusing to let the tiny distraction keep her from torturing me.
“You’re needed downstairs!”
With one shove, the queen pushed me to the hard floor by my head. I landed with a thud. Barely aware of my surroundings, I opened my eyes as the cool hard floor cradled my swelling face. With two blinks, I focused in on the tiny edge of paper sticking out from under my mattress. I’d missed a paper. Holding my breath, I prayed she would leave without noticing.
“I’ll deal with you later,” Anna hissed as she grabbed the single sheet of pa
per off my table crumpling it into a tight wad. I blinked hard and tried my best to hold back my tears until she was gone. Turning to leave, she gave me a parting gift—a swift kick to the stomach.
My lungs expelled with force as the hard toe of Anna’s boot found its way into my ribcage. I gasped, letting out a sob with what air I could muster and heard voices in the distance just as the darkness overcame me.
Night had begun to fall when I finally opened my eyes. I was back in my bed, covered in the robe from my armoire. The dark purple glow barely lit my room, casting odd shadows against the wall. Between the throb in my head and the ache in my ribs, I couldn’t imagine I’d been able to sleep the day away, and yet I had. The stillness was comforting and although my chest ached with each breath I took, the pain was oddly comforting—it meant I was still alive.
A floorboard from across the room whined under the weight of something or someone. I flinched but didn’t move. “Who’s there?” I asked, my whisper echoing in the open room.
The reply was silence. Careful not to move too quickly, I pushed myself up from the old mattress and sat on the edge to get my bearings. Staring at my writing desk, I recalled the queen taking my paper. Remembering the page that peeked from my mattress I felt along the edge of the bed hoping to find my papers and drawings unaffected.
“Looking for something?” The rasp in her voice rang out into the emptiness of my chambers.
“Your Highness,” I began as I shifted my weight on the bed and pulled my hand away. “I didn’t realize—”
“Didn’t realize what?”
The queen’s voice was low and angry. I knew I was going to be punished—again. “That I wasn’t alone.”
The darkness of night had overtaken the room and I could only imagine in my mind where the queen was standing. With the sound of a single match Anna lit a candle and sat her plump body at my desk. Evil was a friend to the queen and the shadows from the thin ray of light only intensified the unyielding hatred on her face.
“Do you know what I found?” The queen asked the question but knew I’d guessed by now what was missing from under my bed.
“No,” I replied as I sat up straight and silently prayed not to be found out.
Standing abruptly, the queen walked to me. In her hand was one page—an old map of the castle. “You think you’re so smart.”
“No, I don’t,” I replied, my quiet voice shaking as I made a mental list of what I’d detailed on the old drawing. “I just—”
“You just what? You think you can have things in your room that are forbidden? What is this?” The queen held up the map I’d drawn of the grounds, complete with keys to how many steps it would take me to walk the hallway, down the stairs and from the front door of the castle to the edge of the rose wall. “Are you planning on going somewhere?”
I felt her hot breath in my face and turned away from the direct blow of each saliva-filled word. Looking to the floor, I said the only thing I knew to say. “No.”
“What?” the queen shouted as she grabbed me by the head, forcing me down to the bed. My bruised ribs cried out and I visibly cringed at the pain. “You don’t fool me,” the queen hissed as she tightened her grip on my hair, twisting it within her fingers to pull harder. “I know what you’re up to. You’re never getting out of here. Do you hear me?”
With one shove, my head hit the mattress and I heard the only word that could crush my dreams. “Never!”
Pulling my eyes from the old pillow, I watched as the queen pushed a wastebasket from the corner of my room. Using the candle from my table she lit the map on fire and dropped it into the container.
As the paper went up in flames, I felt my hope of ever being rescued, burn like the fire now smoking every corner of my room. When the queen was certain there was nothing left, she poured what little water I had by the bed into the basket, leaving me with nothing but smoke and charred dreams.
The smoke caused Edmund and Solomon to rush in, no doubt fearing I had set my own room on fire. “What the hell?” Edmund shouted as he looked to me first to make sure I was okay. Tears streamed down my face and I watched the smoldering heap in the trashcan hiss.
“I’ll deal with the rest of this tomorrow,” Anna scoffed as she walked past them without an explanation. Solomon shook his head as Edmund walked to the fuming basket and kicked it once to make sure it out.
“I’ll take care of this, Solomon.”
Edmund waited for us to be alone before coming to my side. I buried my face into the stale scent of the pillow. It hurt my entire body to cry but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The pain of my ribs, the throb in my head and worst of all, the ache in my heart as I knew the map—my link to the outside—was gone.
Edmund brushed the hair from my teary face. “Are you injured?”
I shook my head twice, my face buried deep within the pillow I gripped in pain. “She’ll be back looking for more.”
“Come now,” Edmund said, as he sat beside me on the bed and did his best to comfort me while keeping one eye open for Solomon. “How did she find the drawing anyway?”
I rolled over. His steely gray eyes looked into mine with concern and all at once, it was clear to me that Edmund really did care. “I missed one when I–. Never mind. My side hurts too badly to talk about the drawings.”
“Your side? Why?”
“Anna kicked me.”
“She did what?” Edmund asked as he stood at attention.
I nodded as if he shouldn’t be surprised. The queen was evil and anyone who didn’t do as she commanded—anyone who disobeyed her was surely going to be punished. The only thing that one couldn’t know was how severe the punishment would be.
“I found your drawings,” Edmund admitted. “I put them under your bed. I figured that was as good a place as any for them.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry if she found one of them. I thought I’d hidden them better,” Edmund said as the usual sparkle faded from his eyes.
“No,” I said as I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “You tried. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”
“I need to get this smoking heap out of your room,” he whispered as he ran his thumb across my frail fingers still in his grasp. “Will you be okay?”
I pulled him close to me. “I’m begging you,” I whispered. “Don’t leave me.”
Edmund released my grip and kicked the still smoldering can to the window where the evening breeze would hopefully carry some of the burning stench away. I followed his every move around my chambers with my swollen eyes.
I sat up in the bed and held my hand out, begging for him to take it once more. He moved across the room in measured steps. “I hate seeing you in pain, but that’s not what I fear most for you.”
“What then?” I asked.
“I don’t want them to take you to a place so dark you never come back.”
He took my hand and a wave of adrenaline coursed through my body. “Will you just sit with me for a little while, Edmund?”
I tugged at him with unnatural force toward my bed and pulled our clasped hands to my face, brushing my lips across the top of his knuckles and felt him shudder at my touch.
“We’ve got to get you out of Rosewood,” he said. I nodded and suddenly felt light-headed while my body seemed heavy.
“My drawing,” I whimpered as I rested my head against the pillow once more. “Gone. The map, my escape plan, the way back to sanity—gone.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need it.”
“Is my mirror still on the table?”
“Mirror?”
“Yes,” I whimpered. “The wooden frame.”
Edmund stood and walked across the room. I hadn’t the energy to move, let alone inventory what was left of my belongings.
“It’s not a mirror. It’s just a–”
Edmund stopped and stood silent as I watched him gaze into it. “What is this?”
“The darkness,” I whispered, rolling to my side.
My eyes were becoming heavy and my body ached. I needed sleep.
“What?” I heard Edmund say as I closed my eyes and felt his gentle touch on my sore shoulder.
“The darkness. The powerful darkness.”
5
ELIZA
I stared at the computer screen. The cursor blinked over and over, mocking my empty brain. I had a year to write this book and all I had on paper after nine months was an unenthusiastic prologue and the words Chapter One.
I’d spent the majority of the timeframe given by the publisher writing and rewriting index cards filled with characters and plot. They clung to the whiteboard in my office like passengers on a sinking ship. Every day I would rearrange the cards, always tossing something into the abyss with impotent, uninspired rage. Every day a subplot was thrown overboard—another character drowned in a sea of mediocrity.
“Hey Beautiful.”
I couldn’t see Ray’s face. I’d fung-shuied my office into a pit of antique furniture and kitschy trinkets I’d gathered from around the Park Avenue house—which we now simply called Park Ave. My back was to him every time he visited me through the door that connected our workspaces. Ray, unlike me, had been wildly prolific in his art since moving here. I hadn’t fallen into the vat of creative pixie dust that was fueling his juices and compelled him to work late each night. The more he worked, the more I despised myself. I loved Ray, but I hated him at the same time. Actually I hated myself, but it was easier to blame it all on him.
“Yes, Handsome?” I replied.
“Am I interrupting? I don’t want to break your rhythm.”
“Dear God, wouldn’t that be a lovely thing.” I swiveled my chair around to look at him. “Do you know how badly I want to tell you to get the hell out of my office because I’m on a roll?”
Ray stared back at me, covered in paint. It was the sickening evidence that once again he’d found his groove while I, on the other hand, had become increasing lost in the hypnotic witchcraft of Pinterest instead of being fifty thousand beautiful words deep into my manuscript. “So you’re saying I’m not interrupting.”
