by Amy Cross
He stares at me for a moment longer, before doffing his hat and then turning to walk away.
I watch as he reaches the garden gate, and I feel simultaneously both relieved and nervous. Relieved because, had he entered the house, I would have killed him. And nervous, because I am quite sure that he will return, most likely before the week is even out. That means that time is of the essence, and I am going to have to find Milly as quickly as possible.
Once I have shut and bolted the front door, I take a moment to listen to the calm silence of the house. I keep hoping that Milly will make her presence felt, that perhaps I shall hear her laughing or playing, but instead I hear only the continued quiet of Lannister Hall.
Finally, this silence is too much to handle, and I feel as if the house is on the brink of bursting.
“Milly!” I call out, hurrying across the hallway and then making my way up the stairs. “Milly, where are you? Come to me! Milly!”
IV
I wince as I carefully pull the fabric of my dress away from my waist. Some of the cotton has become embedded in the bloodied, festering wound that was caused by the knife. Finally I pull the fabric entirely away, and I gasp as I see the full extent of the injury.
The wound itself remains wet and festering, but it is the surrounding tissue that alarms me. I have been so busy, this is the first time I have really taken a close look. Parts of my skin seem to be turning gray, as if the wound itself is spreading. There is a tightness, too, and a kind of swelling. I am by no means educated in medical matters, but only a fool would not see that the wound is infected. Indeed, when I touch the skin near the wound, I feel not only a surge of pain but also a strong warmth. It is a miracle that the knife did not instantly kill me, but now I fear that I am only getting sicker by the day.
Damn you, Jonathan Lannister.
***
“Damn you, Jonathan Lannister!” I shout as I reach the spot in the garden where I buried Jonathan and his wretched associate Mr. Havenhand. “This is all your fault!”
Dropping to my knees, I stare down for a moment at the rectangular patch that remains very visible on the ground. When I buried Jonathan deep down there, I told myself that I was doing the right thing. Now, however, I am tempted to drag his corpse up from the depths and torture him. I know that such an action would be wrong, however, so finally I content myself with slamming my fists against the soil.
Above, the gray sky rumbles with the first hint of thunder, and a cold wind promises rain on the way.
“I cannot go on,” I whimper, with tears running down my face, “separate from her like this. I know not where she is, but I am certain that she needs her mother. Yet here I am, still alive, seemingly unable to do anything for my darling girl while we are...”
My voice trails off, as quite suddenly I realize that there is really only one solution.
“I am unable to do anything for her while we are separated like this,” I continue, and already I can feel the tears starting to dry on my cheeks. “So if she will not come to me, then perhaps I must go to her.”
***
“You will be safe in here for now,” I tell Milly as I finish setting her in the space behind the wall. “I cannot risk having anyone find you, and I worry that some day I will be unable to stop people entering the house.”
I brush the hair from across Milly's dead face, and then I step back.
“Here you will rest,” I continue, “until I can work out the finer details of my plan. We shall be together again soon, of that I am sure. Trust in me, my darling.”
I wait, hoping that perhaps she will give me some sign that she understands.
Thunder rumbles above the house, with sufficient ferocity to shake the nearby window.
“That is not a sign from you,” I whisper. “I cannot fool myself. I know not where you are, but I am going to come and find you. I just... I need to make sure that everything is in place here. I need to think. I need time, but only a little. I need... I need...”
My voice falters, and after a moment I find myself once again staring in silence at my dead girl.
“I need strength,” I say finally. “I do not know yet how I shall find you, but I am sure the task shall be made harder if you are taken from me. That is why I need you close, it is why...”
Again, I cannot finish.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to find the strength that eludes me, and then eventually I open my eyes as I realize that there is work to be done.
I take one of the old cupboard doors that I earlier removed from downstairs, and I set it across the opening in the wall. It pains me to obscure Milly, but obscure her I must, at least for now. This work will take time, but in the end I am sure I can hide the opening so that it is not easily found by anyone who comes to the house. Milly will be safe, she will be here, and I will be close.
And I will find her again.
***
There is a good length of rope in the cellar. Why did Jonathan leave it down here? I do not know, and I do not care. All that matters is that it exists, and – as I test its strength – I realize that it will more than suffice.
***
“Where are you?” I scream, slamming my fists into the door and then slithering down to a heap on the floor. “Milly! I'm right here! I'm waiting for you!”
Thunder shakes the house again. I hear windows rattling all around, as I turn and lean back against the door. Rain is falling heavily outside. The hallway is pitch-black, and I like the night better because at least I can imagine that Milly is watching me from the shadows. At night, it is easier to pretend that ghosts exist.
“Why won't you come to me?” I sob. “Is it that you can't? Or is it that you refuse? Are you disappointed in me, my darling? Are you angry that I failed to protect you? Because I can't blame you, Milly. You're right. I failed you terribly.”
Rocking forward, I let out an anguished howl as I fall onto my elbows. For a moment, all the pain and loss seems to fill my body, and it takes a few seconds before I am able to regather my senses. Even now, as I sit up, I am consumed by an aching hollowness that seems to be pounding in my chest, taking the place of my broken heart.
And then I see it.
The noose that I tied, using the rope.
I left the noose at the bottom of the stairs. I intended to carry it up and find a place to fix it, but somehow I lacked the necessary strength. I suppose there is a part of me that still worries I could be making a terrible mistake. Should I not stay alive, so that I am here when Milly returns? Or should I follow her into death and find her there?
Dear Lord, give me guidance. Tell me where to look for Milly.
Suddenly all the rage and anger bursts back into my chest. I put my hands over my ears and I scream, and I feel as if the entire house is on the verge of exploding. I feel as if all my energy is getting ready to burst and – as my scream continues – I worry that I shall soon be destroyed by this loss. What if, by the time Milly can be found, I have wasted away entirely in both body and soul?
***
I stand at the window, looking down at the garden. Now that the storm has passed, and morning has come, I feel so much calmer. And the heavy rain has disguised the plot where I buried Jonathan and Mr. Havenhand. I suppose that is a good thing. Now they are far less likely to be found.
Turning, I look toward the panel on the wall. I have successfully obscured the spot where I hid Milly's body, although I fight daily against the urge to pull her back out. It is something of a miracle that I was able to cover up the panel so completely, and I am not certain that I could repeat such a feat. No, it is better to let her rest for now, and to be certain that she will be close to me. I must be patient.
And then, a moment later, I hear the sound of voices in the distance.
I look out to the hallway, and I quickly realize that several men seem to be approaching the house. There is no reason for anyone to come here, so I hurry through to one of the other bedrooms and I look down at the garden path,
just in time to see that Father Parker is approaching the house. I feel a shudder in my chest as I see that he is accompanied by three other men, one of whom I know to be a local magistrate.
They disappears from view as they reach the front door, and then I hear a loud, ominous banging sound.
Has it really been a week since Father Parker was here? Or has he come back sooner than he promised? I truly cannot say, yet – as I step back from the window – I am filled with a sudden sense of panic. I know full well that I cannot claim again that Jonathan is away on a trip, and I also know that these men will demand to know the truth. And now, as they bang on the door again, I realize that there is no more time left.
I must go to her.
As I head through to the landing, I can already hear footsteps tramping around to the rear of the house. No doubt, these men intend to check the back door. Once they find that they are unable to enter Lannister Hall, I suppose they will force their way inside. With all their brutal violence, they will have little time for my story. Yet I lack the strength to lie. I lack the strength to do very much at all.
I walk into the main bedroom and take the diary from my nightstand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I open to the final page and then I reach for the pencil that rests nearby. I pause for a moment, wondering what I can possibly write, and then finally I feel a sense of purpose. Of certainty. Of determination.
“It is decided,” I whisper out loud, reading as I write. “I have put her away, where she will not be disturbed. Where she can get some dignity, even in death. And now I shall follow her, and search for her in the lands of the dead until we are together again. As the Lord is my witness, I shall find her. And she will never have to be scared again.”
I read the words back, and then I close the book.
“She will never have to be scared again,” I say, and I dearly hope that those words are true.
Getting to my feet, I head over to the far end of the room, and then I slide the diary into a gap in the wall. Over the years, I have used this gap as a place to hide any items that I do not want Jonathan to discover. Diaries, mostly, all of which I threw into the hearth once they were complete. After all, one does not need to dwell on such matters. Yet this diary, containing my thoughts about Milly, feels different. This diary, I feel, should remain.
I hear more banging on the door, and voices shouting.
Calling my name, and Jonathan's name too.
Soon they will be in the house.
“Break the window!” I hear a voice shout, seemingly confirming that suspicion.
I feel a brief shudder pass through my chest, which usually means that I am about to break down in tears. This time, however, I somehow manage to hold back. Indeed, I feel a strength that I have not felt before, and after a moment I turn and make my way out to the landing. I suppose I had expected there to be some fear at this final moment, some hesitation, but actually I feel very much resolved. I already moved the noose up here, so that it would be ready, and I hung it from one of the rafters. Now I pull a foot-stool over and climb up, and then I very calmly place the rope around my neck.
I can hear shouting outside.
“My darling, I am coming to you,” I whisper, with a few tears in my eyes. “Wherever you are, I will find you.”
I wait for a few seconds, giving Milly one last chance to make her presence felt, and then I lean forward and allow myself to fall from the stool. I grimace as the noose pulls against my throat, and I hear glass breaking in the distance as the rope tightens, but I do not struggle. There are no last-minute second thoughts, no doubts, no fears. There is no regret. I merely close my eyes and, as I die, I think of Milly and of what I shall say to her when I see her again, and I praise the Lord and beg him to let me have that one final thing. It is all I ask. It is all I need. Let me see her again.
V
It is done. Now I wait.
Standing in the main bedroom, I read those words over yet again. How many years have passed since I wrote them in my diary, on the final page? Since I found myself back here at Lannister Hall after my death, condemned to wander the corridors and hallways. At first, I experienced pure madness, and it took quite some time before I really remembered who I am and what I seek. Sometimes I think I should add to those words, but I never do. After all, who wants to read the diary of a ghost?
Closing the book, I slide it back into its spot, and then I turn and walk away.
I stop in the hallway and listen to the silence of the house. So much time has passed since the last time I heard any sound other than the rustling of nearby trees. I often stand and listen to the silence, however, in the hope that I might one day hear Milly playing. If I am here, haunting Lannister Hall after my death, then it stands to reason that Milly must be here as well. Why would I have remained behind, when Milly left? She is here somewhere, I know that. I must simply wait for her.
Yet as I wait, I sometimes feel as if I am close to fading away.
I become weak, and I am quite sure that from time to time I drift into a kind of waking unconsciousness. I still wander from room to room, I am still here in some form, but I am not really aware of myself. Then, just as suddenly, I drift back into my own mind, and I find that I am in another part of the house entirely. How much time passes during those periods? I cannot imagine, although sometimes the weather has changed and sometimes night has become day or day has become night. Sometimes even the season appears different.
And so it is that, as I step into the next room, I realize that I must have briefly drifted away once more. Seconds ago, bright sunlight was streaming through the windows, yet now the sky outside appears murky and gray. I pause for a moment to consider this development, and then I walk over to the hidden panel and I stop to consider Milly's body. I have thus far resisted the urge to look at her, but I am glad that she is close. Until she returns to me properly, I am at least comforted by the knowledge that the rest of her is here.
And then, suddenly, I hear a noise outside.
I turn and look out toward the corridor, convinced that I must be imagining things, but the noise is actually becoming louder. Feeling a flicker of concern in my chest, I hurry through to one of the other rooms and I look out the window, and to my horror I see the most unusual thing coming toward the house. It is a kind of metal monstrosity mounted upon wheels, yet there is no horse or other means of propulsion. I saw something like this before, when some men came to the house for some purpose, but they swiftly left again after they saw me at one of the other windows.
Now, however, the thing has stopped, and I watch as two men and a woman climb out.
Turning, I make my way out into the corridor, and then to the top of the stairs. I can hear voices outside now, and I am filled with panic at the thought of Lannister Hall once again being invaded. I tell myself that these people will leave, but a moment later I hear the voices getting closer, and finally I spot a shadow on the other side of the front door. I tell myself now that this has to all be some kind of cruel trick, but then I hear the tell-tale scraping sound of a key entering the lock. I instinctively start making my way down the stairs, just as the door opens and a large, gray-haired gentleman steps into the house.
“Here we are, then,” he mutters to himself as he stops and looks around. “The famous Lannister Hall. Smells a little musty, but I suppose I'll get used to that in time.”
“Who are you?” I call out, reaching the bottom of the stairs and hurrying toward him. “Leave this place at once!”
He sighs and looks around, but for some reason he seems not to have noticed me.
“I told you to leave!” I shout. “Why have you come into my home? You have no right to be here!”
Still ignoring me, he puts his hands on his hips and continues to look around at the hallway.
I step toward him, but suddenly I hear other footsteps approaching the house, and I turn just in time to see a woman and a man carrying some boxes into the house.
“No!” I shout, rushing toward th
em. “Get out! You're not welcome here!”
“Welcome to Lannister Hall,” the first man says, turning to them. “I dare say that we -”
Filled with rage, I slam the door open, causing it to hit the wall with tremendous force. As soon as I have done that, I feel myself drained of all energy, such that I can barely even muster the strength to turn and look at these interlopers.
“Just the wind, I'm sure,” the older man says to the others. “Now, let's get this equipment set up, shall we? It's time to uncover the secrets of Lannister Hall.”
“No,” I stammer, barely able to get the words out, “I won't let you do that. I'll never let you!”
Part Ten
Katie Sinclair
I
For a moment, I don't dare move.
I stare up at the gap in the wall, waiting in case the ghost of Catherine Lannister returns.
Finally, still trembling with fear and shock, I get to my feet. As I do so, I'm once again able to see the face of poor, dead Millicent in her resting place. She looks so frail and sad, and there are tears in my eyes as I try to imagine how she ended up in here all those years ago. Her mother must have been heartbroken when she died, and I guess in some way she couldn't handle the truth. Maybe, rather than releasing Millicent's body for a normal burial, she found a place to hide her in the house and she resolved to stay close to her.
Suddenly hearing a noise over my shoulder, I turn just in time to see that a wooden panel is shuddering on the floor. It takes a moment before I realize that this is the panel Josh removed in order to get to Millicent, and then suddenly the panel flips up and flies through the air.
I duck out of the way, but the edge of the panel still catches my left cheek as it slams back into place on the wall.
