Ela: Forever (Waking Forever)

by Heather McVea

  Ela: Forever

  (Complete Series)

  Heather McVea

  Published by Heather McVea at Smashwords

  Copyright 2013 Heather McVea

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, event, or locales is entirely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Waking Forever Series

  Book One: Waking Forever April 2013

  Book Two: Becoming Forever January 2014

  Book Three: Dying Forever August 2014

  Ela Origin Serials (Waking Forever Series)

  Ela: Beginning Forever July 2013

  Ela: Changing Forever August 2013

  Ela: Losing Forever October 2013

  An Introduction by the Author

  When I was writing Waking Forever, the first book in the series of the same name, I had not intended to write another book, much less serials, about the origin of Waking’s villain, Ela Bauer. However, as I spoke with friends, family and fans about Waking, a common thread emerged… they loved the book, they wanted a sequel, and they wanted more of Ela.

  Although I already knew Waking would be a three-part series, I was still dubious about an origin serial centered on Ela. She had been a difficult character for me to write in Waking, and one of the more complex voices. In the end, it was the challenge she posed that drove me to write her story.

  I can say, without hesitation, her story was the most exhausting creative process I have experienced to date. She demanded cunning, wit and a level of morbidity I had not indulged in for any other writing project. Because of this, the serial took nearly a month longer to complete than I had anticipated, and, in the end, I was relieved to be stepping back from the macabre tone of the stories.

  With that said, I am exponentially prouder of the Ela serials than of any other piece of my writing to date, both from a structural perspective and the content itself. It is with the utmost sincerity that I hope you indulge in, and enjoy this compilation of Ela’s wickedness, humor and intellect.

  Beginning Forever

  Part One

  “There is no hate such as that born out of love betrayed.”

  - V.C. Andrews

  She’s murdered me. Ela was struck by the simple acceptance that she had been torn and ripped through, and now there was nothing but pain. She tried desperately to breathe. With ribs piercing her lungs and filling her chest with sharp pain, she began to feel a numbing cold creeping in from her hands and feet toward the heat at the center of her body. She gasped one final time, then died.

  ***

  “Breathing will become more and more difficult as his condition worsens.” The doctor stood in the small living area of the Bauer family walk-up apartment. It was 1921 and money was still scarce after the war; so he had no hope of being paid for this visit. If the tattered rug covering the bowed wooden planks making up the floor and the faded floral wallpaper didn’t make the family’s financial state obvious, the fact he was still waiting for payment for his last visit over two weeks ago did. The doctor reminded himself there was a man’s life at stake, or at least the comfort to be afforded at the end of that life.

  “Mrs. Bauer, did you hear what I said?” The doctor addressed a petite woman in her late thirties with her hair loosely pulled up in a bun, sitting on a frayed sofa staring intently at the floor. “The pneumonia is not responding to the medications, so your husband will become increasingly uncomfortable.” When the woman continued to be unresponsive, the doctor turned to the small child sitting on a worn wooden chair next to a dilapidated dining table. She was a pretty girl with light blonde hair, and piercing light blue eyes that had hints of lavender. “Do you understand, Ela?”

  The girl nodded, then turned to the woman. “Mother?” The woman’s eyes stayed transfixed on the floor. “Papa is dying.”

  The doctor cringed at the frankness of the young girl’s statement. It was heart breaking to see a child only eleven years old speaking in such bleak absolutes. “Yes, Ela –” the doctor cleared his throat, “he is dying.” The doctor picked up the small black leather bag he had placed on the dining table next to Ela. “Send for me if anything changes.” The doctor reached out and gently patted Ela’s cheek. “You’re a good girl for taking care of your father and mother, Ela.” Not waiting for a response, the doctor turned and walked toward the door. Putting his hat and coat on, he paused. “Mrs. Bauer, if you don’t start to manage your home, I will report you to the authorities. You have responsibilities here.” He buttoned his coat, and turned toward Ela. “Send for me if things don’t improve, child.” His smile was reassuring as he opened the door and left the cramped apartment, but he knew the situation was nearly hopeless.

  Ela sat motionless on the hard wooden chair and stared at her mother. She wanted desperately to be comforted by her mother, but her mother had never been particularly warm toward her. It had been her father who had shown her love and kindness, and now he was going to die. Ela got up and walked toward her parents’ bedroom where her father lay motionless in the small double bed. If not for the incessant wheezing coming from deep in his chest when he took a breath, Ela would have thought him already dead.

  The small child walked to the side of the bed and took her father’s hand. He had been a strong man and worked hard in a local print shop to give them the little they had. Now Ela hardly recognized him. He was thin and his skin was so pale it looked translucent, like tissue paper that might tear if she held him too tightly. Ela patted his hand gently. “Papa?” Tears began to stream from her blue eyes. “Please get better.” She wiped at her face. “I don’t want you to die.” A deep sob escaped her as she laid her head on the bed next to him.

  “Why are you crying?” Luella Bauer’s voice came from the doorway of the bedroom. “Don’t cry for him, girl. He’s going to be fine. You’ll see.” Ela’s mother walked over and stood behind her as she continued to hold her father’s hand. “Isn’t that right, Aurick? You’ll be up and about in no time.” She knelt next to Ela and, using her hip, pushed the child to the side. “I’ll sit with him. I’m his wife.” Luella took her husband’s hand from Ela and clutched it to her chest. “Go get the money from the kitchen drawer, go to the market, and get some cheese and bread for lunch.”

  Ela stood up, her brow furrowed. “Money? There’s no money –”

  “Then get some, girl!” Luella hissed.

  Ela took several steps back, wanting nothing more than to run away. Run from this woman who seemed to hate her and this house that reeked of death. Then she looked at her father who had once been so strong. Her father who had made her laugh when she was sad and held her when she was scared. She wouldn’t leave him. “Yes ma’am.”

  Ela left the bedroom, and took her threadbare coat from the nail it hung on near the front door before entering the dimly lit hall of their apartment building. As she walked down the narrow hall, the smell of cooking food permeated the tight space. Ela’s stomach gurgled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the previous afternoon as there was no food in the apartment. Her mother had refused to go to the market yesterday, and now she was insisting Ela go even though th
ere was no money to purchase food.

  Ela walked down the stairs, and instead of exiting onto the busy street of their Krakow neighborhood, she walked toward the front door of the apartment adjacent to the building’s entrance. Taking a deep breath, Ela knocked on the wooden door. After a few seconds, a woman’s quiet voice came from the other side of the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Ela.” The small girl’s voice reverberated down the hall as the sound of several locks being disengaged indicated the occupant was opening the door.

  “Ela. Child, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve been crying.” Rilla Dresner was a woman in her late twenties. Her hair was a chestnut brown, always impeccably pulled back in a tight bun, not a hair out of place. Rilla’s eyes were a bright hazel color, and Ela always thought they looked like a kaleidoscope her father had given her when she was a small child.

  “Father is very ill, and –” Ela looked down as the wave of shame washed over her. This was not the first time she had come to Rilla in need, but her pride was always bruised badly by these encounters. Her family had never had very much in the way of material possessions, but her father had always made sure there was food on the table. Since he had taken ill, the pantry had become more bare every day, but her mother pretended there was still money and food to be had.

  “It’s okay, Ela. Come in.” Rilla stood to the side as Ela came into the apartment. The Desner’s living space was identical to Ela’s apartment directly overhead, but Rilla kept the small space immaculate and the furnishings were in good repair. “Why don’t you go see Delia in her room, and I’ll put something together for you.” Rilla ran a reassuring hand over Ela’s soft hair.

  Ela couldn’t help but smile at the mention of Delia. Though two years younger than Ela, Delia Desner was Ela’s best friend, much to the irritation of Ela’s parents. Delia had been born while Rilla’s husband was fighting, and ultimately died in the Great War; the entire neighborhood knew Rilla had been unfaithful to her husband, and Delia was the result of that infidelity. Because of this, Rilla and Delia were not warmly welcomed into the tightly knit Jewish neighborhood. Even though the Desners attended the same synagogue as most of the other families in the neighborhood, Ela never saw them coming and going because Rilla and Delia sat in the back. This ensured they could be the first ones to leave, effectively avoiding the scowls and angry looks of their fellow patrons.

  Ela walked down the short hallway to Delia’s room. Her friend was sitting with her back against her bed and drawing furiously on a large piece of paper. “Whatcha doing?” Ela asked as she stood in the doorway.

  Delia looked up, her green eyes big with surprise. “Ela!” Delia dropped the pencil and paper, and rushed toward Ela, throwing her arms around the older girl. “I’m drawing a picture of you.”

  Ela looked over the girl's shoulder at the paper and pencils as the two continued to hug. “Why are you doing that?” Ela was wary of any attention paid to her. Her mother only complimented her when she wanted something.

  Delia let Ela go and bent over to pick up the paper. “Because you’re pretty.” Delia held the picture out in front of her so she could inspect it. “And you’re my best friend.” The girl smiled as she handed the picture to Ela.

  Ela took the piece of paper, a suspicious look on her face. The drawing was simple, and could be any girl, but Delia had colored the eyes of the picture’s subject blue. Ela smiled. “It is me.”

  Delia smiled. “You like it?”

  Ela looked at the younger child. Biting her lower lip, she nodded. “I do. Can I keep it?”

  Delia’s smile widened, revealing a gap in her top front teeth waiting to be filled by a permanent tooth. “Yes!”

  “Ela, Delia, come in here please,” Rilla called from the kitchen.

  Ela carefully rolled the picture up, and followed Delia. Rilla was standing at the worn counter next to the porcelain sink with a paper bag in her hand. “Ela, here you go. Please let me know if you need anymore.”

  Ela took the bag. “Thank you, Mrs. Desner. My mother will pay you back.”

  Rilla hesitated as she nodded, knowing the food would not be repaid. Luella Bauer was a thoughtless woman, and Aurick had always indulged her well above their means. Now that he was ill, the woman simply didn’t know how to take care of herself or her daughter. Rilla did not have an affinity for the Bauers, at least not the adults in the family. They, like so many others in the close-knit community, had thoroughly judged her when she became pregnant with Delia.

  Rilla’s husband Nikolaus had left for the Great War in its first year, and she had never been alone before. She came from a large family near Katowice, and though she had been happy with Nikolaus, she struggled with the loneliness. So when a shop keeper several blocks from her apartment began showing his interest, she welcomed the company and eventually welcomed him into her bed. They had only been together a few times, but from that brief affair, Delia was conceived. Nikolaus was killed in the Galicia region near the border of Poland when Delia was less than two. Rilla thought it was a small mercy that Nikolaus never knew she existed.

  Because of Rilla’s indiscretion, Delia was often shunned and ostracized. Ela had taken a liking to her daughter a year ago, and Rilla had to admit, she took some perverse pleasure in how uncomfortable the friendship made Aurick and Luella. “Tell your mother there is no rush,” Rilla reassured Ela as she walked her toward the front door. Rilla knelt down in front of Ela. “And Ela, I meant what I said. Come back if you need more.” Rilla put her hand on the child’s shoulder to reassure her. “It doesn’t matter if I get anything back.” She squeezed Ela’s shoulder. “Do you understand?”

  Ela loved the reassuring touch of Rilla’s hand on her shoulder. She was grateful for any show of affection. “Thank you, Mrs. Desner.”

  Ela turned to Delia and smiled. “Thank you for the picture.”

  Delia rushed up to Ela and threw her arms around her. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Okay. Ela needs to get going, Delia.” Rilla placed her hand gently on Delia’s back, and Delia reluctantly backed away from Ela.

  Ela nodded, turned and walked back out into the hallway. Her chest tightened as the door closed behind her. She dreaded going back upstairs to deal with her mother, who, seeing the paper bag with groceries in it, would insist she had been right about the money in the kitchen drawer. Her mother had a way of imagining things to be a certain way, even if the reality was completely contrary.

  “That took you long enough!” Ela’s mother met her at the door of their apartment. “You didn’t waste that money on sweets did you?” She grabbed the bag from Ela’s arms.

  “No, mother.” Ela cast her eyes downward, trying to avoid a confrontation.

  “And you said there wasn’t any money.” Luella put the bag on the kitchen and began unpacking its contents. “Look, you even had enough for canned meat, bread, and cheese.”

  “I’ll make lunch.” Ela felt her stomach began to gurgle again at the mention of food.

  Luella tore a piece of bread from the loaf, and taking a large knife out of the drawer, cut a generous piece of cheese from the larger chunk. “Fine.” Without looking back at Ela, she walked into the living room, sat on the sofa and began eating the bread.

  Ela cut several slices of cheese and a thick piece of bread. She placed them on a plate she took from the dish strainer next to the sink, got a glass from the same strainer, and filled it with water from the tap. Walking down the short hallway to her parents’ room, she placed the plate and glass on the small table next to her parents' bed. She looked closely at her father, who seemed to have grown even smaller since she had left him less than an hour ago.

  “Papa. I brought you lunch.” Ela gently rubbed her father’s forearm and was startled by how cold he was. His skin felt like rubber. “Papa?” Ela leaned closer, placing her ear near his mouth. She couldn’t hear the wheezing that had come to signify her father’s efforts to breathe. Ela felt heat rise up from the pit of her stom
ach, and the room began to spin. She grabbed her father by the shoulders and began to pull on him. “Papa! Wake up!” She pulled and pushed on the limp figure. “Please don’t be dead!” Ela felt the sting of hot tears as she began to sob uncontrollably. Stepping back from the bed, she felt a wave of nausea hit her in the stomach, and she began – with nothing in her stomach - to dry heave.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?” Luella’s harsh voice came from the doorway. Ela’s mother crossed the small room in a few steps and shoved Ela to the side. “What did you do to him?”

  Ela was only vaguely aware her mother had entered the room. The pounding of her heart in her ears was nearly deafening. It wasn’t until she collided with the small table, knocking the glass of water to the floor with a loud crash, that she realized her mother was not only in the room, but yelling at her.

  “He’s dead!” Luella screamed. “What did you do to him?” The woman pounced on the small girl.

  Ela cringed as her mother’s fingers dug into the fleshy part of her upper arms. “He – he was like this when I came in to give him lunch.” Ela was having trouble speaking through her tears and the lump of nausea that had lodged itself at the top of her throat.

  “Liar!” Ela’s mother pushed the child back against the wall, turned back to the dead man in the bed, and flung herself across his lifeless legs. “He was fine! Fine!”

  Ela slid down the wall and sat motionless as she watched her mother beat her fists against her dead father’s legs. In a moment of clarity only afforded those in extreme duress, Ela saw her mother for the first time in all her horrible imperfections. The years of neglect and apathy, accompanied by periods of physical abuse, slammed into Ela. She hated her mother, and as the realization washed over her she felt no shame or guilt. The clarity of her hate provided her more comfort than the hysterical woman in front of her ever had or ever could.