Mephisto Waltz

by Bridgett Kay Specht

  I miss you more than words can express. Please stay safe, be happy, and I’ll see you when you return.

  With all my heart,

  Clara.”

  I pressed the letter to my heart and sighed, allowing bittersweet tears to fall down my cheeks. I lay down on the bed and cried myself to sleep.

  I was drifting in a sort of half-sleep when the door jolted again, shaking my bed. I sat upright with alarm when I remembered that outside, there was no wind. The night had been perfectly calm.

  Someone was trying to force their way into my room.

  Chapter 12

  Discontent

  The Hermit

  I jumped off of the bed and backed away from the door, panicked. Without my added weight, the bed rattled more fiercely than before, and the door was forced open an inch or two.

  I gathered my courage and called in as loud and clear a voice as I could summon, “who’s there.”

  I leaned forward and listened, but heard only a low moan in response. The door opened another inch, and forced the bed away from the wall with a loud screech. I reacted, flinging myself onto the bed and pushing my body against the door. My weight had diminished considerably since I’d arrived at the abbey, but I somehow managed to slam the door shut. I pressed my ear against the door, but I could hear nothing but silence. There was no sound of rustling or footsteps on the other side, and the door remained still.

  I remained frozen, against the door, in terror, but the intruder did not return. I stayed awake for the rest of the night. I kept my back against the door, though my joints became stiff and achy by morning. I was tempted to peek outside, to see if there was any sign of the intruder, but I did not want to take my weight off of the door. I kept my mind busy by reading and re-reading Clara’s letter, until I’d memorized each pen stroke. Her tender words calmed me, and by morning, when the first rose-tinted streaks of sunlight were cast through my tiny window, my panic seemed as though it had been a dream.

  I was certain that the intruder must have left, so I dressed and carefully hid the letters Clara and Summer had sent. I ventured outside, and searched the area around my door, but I could not find any clues left behind by my nighttime visitor. There were some tracks left in the snow a few feet away, but I could not follow them far before they became lost in the muddled footprints left by the general population which dwelt in the cloisters.

  I was still bent over, examining the footprints, when I heard someone approaching. My nerves were still somewhat excited from my nighttime encounter, and I spun around, startled. I was relieved, though, to see it was only James, approaching me with a curious expression.

  “Did you lose something?” he asked, looking at the ground where I’d been searching.

  “No, I just-“ I stopped, wondering if my story would sound too incredible to be believed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone tried to break into my room last night,” I blurted. “They tried to force the outside door open.”

  “Are you sure?” James asked. “I have the first dorm room on the men’s side- there’s an outside door on that one, as well, and when the wind blows, the door rattles something fierce.”

  “It wasn’t windy at all, last night,” I argued. “Besides, the wind can’t force a door open, or force the bed away from the door.”

  “You must have been dreaming,” James said, wrinkling his brow, and frowning at the footprints I’d been examining. “No one here would try to break into your room.”

  “I know I was awake,” I insisted. “I’ve been awake ever since. I should tell Ms. Sweeny what happened.”

  “Wait an hour or two,” James said. “She and Pastor Smith both indulged a bit last night, and she might not appreciate it if you woke her at the crack of dawn for something that was probably just a bad dream.”

  “It was not a dream, but otherwise, you make a good point,” I admitted. “Why are you awake so early?”

  “Same reason as you; I’ve been having nightmares.”

  I didn’t want to argue further, so I just sighed and said, “what kind of nightmares have you been having?”

  “The usual kind, I suppose- I’m lost in a maze, trying desperately to escape.” He ran his hand through his hair, like he usually did when worried, but then smiled brightly. “When you live in a haunted abbey, it’s only natural that you have a nightmare or two.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.

  “Are you?” he countered.

  “I’m certain that I soon will be, as soon as the intruder is found,” I said. I turned and followed the tracks back to my room as the sun rose over the abbey.

  #

  I took my time getting washed and dressed, taking advantage of the fact that no one else was awake, and I could use the showers without having to wait in line. When I was clean, fully awake, and feeling considerably better, I went to Ms. Sweeny to explain what had happened on the previous night.

  Ms. Sweeny listened to my story with a sympathetic, but skeptical, countenance. She insisted, as James had, that I had either been dreaming, or that I had merely become overly frightened when the wind rattled the door.

  “After all,” she said, “I’m sure that no one here would want to break into your room, and we’re miles away from any town, so I doubt it could have been a burglar. If it would make you feel better, though, I’ll see if there is a way to lock the door, and I’ll increase the frequency of bed-checks in the dorms. Tell me immediately if it happens again.”

  #

  Ms. Sweeny searched all week for the key to my door, but a week later the search proved fruitless, she gave up, and installed an old, rusty padlock she had found. I moved my bed away from the door, and for a long time, no one tried to break into my room again, so the matter was forgotten.

  Even though no one tried to break in again, I still could not sleep well at night. The weather continued to grow more bitterly cold, often dropping below zero, while the wind rattled the door, and snow covered my tiny window. As the cold grew more bitter, and the wind grew fiercer, Mary of Misery made her voice heard more often. I would lie awake, listening as the screams grew more and more realistic. The cries rang clearly over the abbey, and seemed to come from one direction, then another, as if a shrieking witch was circling over the abbey on her broomstick. I would close my eyes, and tell myself that the sound was nothing more than the wind whistling over the valley, but I could barely fend off my terrified superstitions.

  The cold and lack of sleep combined to depress my spirits, despite the efforts I had been making to stay hopeful. Two outings were canceled due to bad weather, culminating in a month of isolation within the abbey. This isolation intensified the effects of the therapeutic methods employed by Dr. Caleb, which were growing more bizarre by the day.

  One particularly cold Friday, Dr. Caleb seemed to snap. That day, almost half of the patients, along with Ms. Sweeny, were sick with the flu, and were confined to their rooms or to cots in the makeshift infirmary. Those of us who remained were made up of those of us who were the most resistant to Dr. Caleb’s ideas, and he was becoming increasingly frustrated with us.

  “None of you seem to understand how dangerous the homosexual lifestyle is, or how self-destructive you become once you give yourself over to your unnatural urges,” he said, while pacing restlessly around the half-empty circle of chairs. His footsteps echoed loudly off the stone walls in the unnaturally quiet room. He stopped pacing in front of Alice, and looked down at her.

  “You need to admit the harm you’ve caused to your loved ones, and to yourself, before you can hope to heal the emotional wounds caused by your unnatural urges.”

  Alice seemed unimpressed. “Only if you admit what you’ve done, first.”

  Dr. Caleb’s eyes flashed with anger, and he clenched his fist as if he wanted to hit her, but he restrained himself, and turned away from her. He stepped over to a desk which stood in a far corner of the room, and began to search through the drawers.

 
“You know, Alice, all I’ve tried to do is to help all of you.” He seemed to find what he was looking for, and stood to return to the circle.

  “It’s time for all of you to take an honest look at what you’re doing to yourselves and your families. I want all of you to take a good, long look at where your choices are leading you.” He held up what he’d retrieved from the drawer; an intricately knotted noose was swinging from his hand.

  “Suicide, drug abuse, and HIV are all things that your current paths will inevitably lead you to.” He held the noose higher and stepped into the center of the circle, turning slowly to show everyone the noose in turn. It began to swing back and forth in his hand, and when I closed my eyes to block out the sight, I could still see a dark shadow swinging back and forth in my mind’s eye.

  “I want everyone to pass this noose around, and as you hold it, tell us what you’ve done- what harmful things your unnatural urges have caused you to do.”

  I kept my eyes firmly shut, but I couldn’t banish the image of the swinging shadow. I could hear each recipient of the noose as they spoke, but their words softened and blended together until they were nothing more than a buzzing in my ears.

  I felt a soft nudge on my arm, and I opened my eyes. Julian, who’d been sitting to my left, was holding the noose out to me. When I saw it, my stomach lurched painfully, and I closed my eyes again.

  “Miranda? It’s your turn,” Julian said tentatively.

  I turned my head and leaned away from his voice. “No, I can’t,” I said in a hoarse whisper.

  “Miranda, what’s wrong?” I could hear Alice whisper, but I couldn’t answer. I simply shook my head.

  “Miranda, open your eyes,” Dr. Caleb said authoritatively. “You need to face this.”

  “You don’t understand,” I said weakly. “You couldn’t possibly understand, or else you wouldn’t be doing this to me.”

  “I’m aware that you’ve seen the ugliness of death,” he said in a harsh tone.

  “Open your eyes, now, and face the ugliness of your own future.”

  “Stop it,” I said, but I could not put the force of will behind my voice. I knew that he could hear and see my frailty. He’d found the weakness that I’d been hiding for weeks.

  “You couldn’t stop what happened to your brother, and you can’t stop what will happen to you if you continue this path. You are weak, flawed, and sinful. Put yourself in God’s hands, and he can show you the way to salvation.”

  I opened my eyes, and the noose was hanging a mere inches from my face. I pushed the noose, and the hand holding the noose, roughly away from me and stumbled to my feet.

  I ran dizzily out the door, into the hall, but no one tried to stop me. I made my way into the restroom and into a stall before my strength failed, and I fell onto the floor, retching into the toilet while my sharp knees dug painfully into the icy tile floor.

  When I was done, I shakily to pulled myself to my feet and exited the stall. Alice and Anna were there, waiting to escort me back to the classroom, but I ignored them. I stumbled to the sink, rinsed out my mouth, and then washed my face. I was no longer dizzy, but in the harsh, yellow bathroom light, everything seemed surreal.

  “Miranda, are you sick?” Anna asked.

  I tried to speak, but could only manage a rough laugh in response.

  “Come on, Anna, let’s get her to the dorms,” Alice said.

  “But Dr. Caleb said-“

  “He didn’t listen to her being violently sick for the past five minutes.” Alice said. “I’m sure he won’t want her to come back and vomit on his rug.”

  Alice took a couple of steps closer to me. The clicking of her heels on the tile floor seemed unbearably loud.

  “Miranda, do you think you can make it back to the dorms?” She asked.

  I took several deep breaths, and then responded. “I don’t know.”

  “I promise; we’ll go slowly. It’s too bad that the infirmary’s full, it’s closer, but the dorms are more comfortable, anyway.

  I nodded, and stood up to dry my face. I caught my reflection in the mirror. I saw a pale, freckled face, bloodshot, green eyes, and limp tendrils of disheveled blonde hair. I wondered, in all the mess I saw, where Miranda had gone.

  “Miranda, are you ready?”

  I nodded again, and followed Alice and Anna from the restroom.

  #

  The sun was out, and the light was so bright that I had to shield my eyes as I walked. I had to stop and rest twice in the short distance from the calefactory to the women’s cloisters. When we made it to my dorm room, Alice and Anna had to help me into bed.

  I felt an immediate sense of relief when they turned out the light and left me alone in the still, silent cell. I lay on top of my blanket, and enjoyed the sensation of the cool air against my feverish face. It felt so good that I fell asleep shortly. My sleep, however, was neither comfortable nor restful. All afternoon, my mind replayed the night of Mark’s death over and over, each time filled with more horrifying detail than the next. At first I only felt the vague impressions I recalled from that night- the swinging shadow, and the bright light from the ambulance. Then I saw, more clearly, the horror on my father’s face, my mother’s blank stare, and a glimpse of the white sheet which I knew concealed the body. I wanted to scream, over and over, but my voice was trapped inside of me, and my body was like a stone.

  A soft tapping on the inside door broke the spell. My mind snapped back into reality, and the shell of paralyzing horror was released. I moved my arms and legs, and sat up.

  A moment later, the tapping stopped and Alice opened the door and peeked inside. “Are you awake, yet? I came to fetch you for dinner, but you wouldn’t wake up.”

  I wiped the sleep from my eyes, and my stomach growled. “Did I miss dinner completely?”

  Alice smiled and came inside, bearing a tray. “There’s chicken soup and sandwiches, if you think you can keep it down. We survivors have to take care of the sick, since Ms. Sweeny isn’t able to, and I saved you for last, so we could talk.”

  I thanked her and took the tray. I no longer felt queasy, and in fact, I was hungrier than I had been in a long time. Alice sat on the chair by my desk and watched me eat.

  “Shouldn’t you go?” I asked. “We aren’t allowed to be in each other’s rooms.”

  Alice shrugged and put her chin on the back of the chair, studying me with her serious, blue eyes.

  “I told you, I left you for last so we could talk. Ms. Sweeny is sick, so she can’t do bed checks. We really don’t have many opportunities to be alone, here, so I have to seize this chance.”

  “What did you want to discuss?” I asked.

  “First, I need to ask you about what happened this afternoon. Why did you react that way when you saw the noose?”

  At the mention of the noose, my stomach flipped again, so I took a long drink of water to still it. I drained the glass, and then gazed at Alice for a long time. I knew, logically, that she was trustworthy, but something made me hesitant to confide in her.

  “I suppose the technical term for what happened is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but I’m not a doctor.” I finally said, warily.

  “That sounds pretty intense, Miranda. What traumatic things could have happened to a privileged girl like you?” Alice’s tone was light, but her eyes betrayed her concern.

  I ignored her question and held up my empty glass, “may I have some more?”

  She rolled her eyes, but took the glass and went to refill it, muttering, “spoiled brat,” under her breath.

  When she returned, she closed the door carefully behind her, obviously intent on continuing our conversation, despite my reluctance. She handed me the water and sat on the foot of the bed.

  “Listen, Miranda, you don’t have to talk about what happened, if you don’t want, but you need to realize that things are getting very dangerous for you. You just revealed a huge weakness to Dr. Caleb, and I’m sure that he will exploit it.”

  I
sighed, and examined Alice’s face for any sign contrary to the honesty and earnestness I heard in her voice, and knew to be part of her character. After a moment, I decided to trust her.

  “You’ve probably heard me mention my brother, Mark, before. He passed away last spring, and I try to avoid talking about him too often, for obvious reasons.”

  “Were you close to him?” she asked.

  “He was my twin, and we were best friends. I can’t describe how it felt when I lost him.”

  “How did he die?” she asked.

  “It was suicide,” I said. “He was deeply depressed, and he hung himself. I wasn’t certain how much Dr. Caleb knew about what had happened, until this afternoon. My parents, apparently, told him everything.”

  “He should have stopped, once he saw what he was doing to you,” Alice spat angrily, clenching folds of my bedspread in her fists. “He’s evil, Miranda. I need to warn you about him, because he’s breaking you.”

  “He can’t break me completely,” I said. “He can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change; even he admits that.”

  “He can’t change any of us, no matter what he claims, but he can hurt you so much that you bury your feelings, and deny who you are. I’ve seen him take a happy, free-spirited girl and turn her into something completely unrecognizable.”

  “You’ve been here before?” I asked, baffled.

  “No, but someone I cared for very much was sent here when we were younger.” She stopped and glanced up from the bedspread with a lost look in her eyes. The expression seemed out of place on her, and though I’d always thought of Alice as indomitable, she now seemed frail and vulnerable.

  “I’ve never talked about this to anyone,” Alice admitted, looking down again, and tracing the patterns on my bedspread with her finger, her blue eyes lost in the silver loops of thread. “But I think you will understand better if I tell you about it. You see, I live with my mom and stepdad in Houston during the school year, but I used to spend the summers with my father, until a couple of years ago. The last time I did was the summer I turned 14.