by Amy Cross
I nod, still finding this whole situation to be totally insane.
"For now," he adds, "I'm afraid you need lots of rest. You're very lucky to be alive, Ms. Bradshaw, and you need to learn how to take better care of yourself. You're not going to be allowed out of bed today, but tomorrow we can start getting you up and about, and then we can think about when to let you go home. Still, I want you to be under no illusions. This heart attack is a life-changing matter. You're going to have to rethink everything you do, from diet and exercise to the amount you drink, the way you spend your spare time..." He pauses. "You can't brush this off. You nearly died, and if it happens again, you might not be so lucky".
I watch as he turns and heads to the door.
"But I'm okay now, right?" I continue. "My heart's okay. I didn't do any permanent damage, did I?"
"You've had a heart attack," he replies wearily, glancing back at me. "I'm not going to mince words. You clearly have a predisposition to this kind of incident, and I'd characterize you as being in a high-risk group. Whatever else happens, you need to recognize the seriousness of this situation. A heart attack isn't a joke. This is a medical condition you're going to have to live with for the rest of your life".
"But I'll be fine," I say. "Won't I?"
"You'll get over it," he says, "but we'll talk later about how you need to adjust your lifestyle. Unless you want to risk another heart attack, and another, and another, you're going to have to make some changes. Whatever brought this on, whether it was extreme exercise or something else, you can't risk doing it again. To put yourself in that zone again would be suicidal".
Once he's left the room, I'm left staring into space. I still can't bring myself to fully accept that I've had an actual, real heart attack. It's the kind of thing that's supposed to happen to old people, not reasonably healthy girls in their early twenties. I mean, I know Mr. White pushed my body beyond its comfort zone, but I didn't think he'd taken me to the point that my body just gave up. I thought I was more than strong enough to handle anything he threw at me, but I guess I was wrong. Sitting alone in the hospital bed, I suddenly feel as if I've passed through to another phase of my life, and my time with Mark feels like it happened a million years ago.
Jonathan Pope
1901
"We don't have much time," Henrietta says as we stand in one of the pub's upstairs rooms. "The game is in flux right now. With Mr. White dead and the pair of us on the move, the game lacks its players. This won't last, of course. Soon enough, its recovery will be complete, so we have to strike fast -"
"What are you talking about?" I ask, still finding it hard to believe that she's still alive. "With Mr. White dead, surely the game is over? After all, we're the only players left, so there's simply no way for it to continue". Stepping closer, I put my hands on the sides of her arms and try to force a smile. "We've done it, my darling. We've escape. The game is over".
She shakes her head.
"How can it not be?" I continue. "There are only three players, and we're all accounted for!"
"You don't understand. The game is more than just..." She pauses, as if she's worried about saying too much. "You don't know the full nature of the game. It's not just about the three of us. There are certain safeguards in place, certain systems that are designed to ensure that the game survives. The trap is open right now, but soon it will snap shut, and our necks are still in the way. There's a way out, my darling, but we have to act swiftly". Reaching down, she places a hand on her belly. "We have a child on the way, Jonathan. Whatever happens to us, we have to acknowledge our own guilt, but the child must be given a chance. We need to find a place to hide it away so that the game can never reach it".
"You speak as if the game is alive," I reply.
"It is!"
"Of course it's not -"
"It lives and breathes!" she insists, with fear in her eyes. "Are you such a fool, my darling, that you would insist upon things that are convenient, rather than accepting the facts? If the game were over, do you not think I'd be the first to celebrate? Even now, out there in the darkness, it's regathering its strength. It's vindictive, too. It knows what we've done, and it'll go to extreme lengths in order to punish us. The game doesn't like to be betrayed. If we don't act fast, it'll be too late".
"So what can we do?" I reply. "If the game is truly alive -"
"If we try to run, it will catch up to us eventually," she says. "Worse than that, it will find our child. The only solution is to destroy it, and the only way to destroy it is to go right to its heart".
Staring at her, I try to work out whether she has truly lost her mind. Given everything that has happened lately, I feel as if I'm no longer in any position to determine what is real and what is a lie. It certainly seems as if Henrietta believes everything she's saying, but at the same time I can't shake the feeling that perhaps this is all just another part of the game.
"I thought you were dead," I say eventually. "I saw your body. I saw the blood".
"You saw a body," she replies. "Don't you understand, my darling? I had to get away. Mr. White was closing in, and I knew that he meant to kill me. I had no choice but to fake my death".
"And your husband?"
She pauses. "I'm afraid that Benjamin was too close to Mr. White. Although he was not part of the game, my husband could not be trusted. I was so scared, Jonathan. I thought for sure that Benjamin and Harrison Blake were in league together. I still believe that I would have been betrayed, and..." Her voice trails off, and there's a look of madness in her eyes. I have never seen Henrietta in such a state; she has always seemed so calm and controlled, as if she knows what to do, but this time it's as if she's genuinely terrified. Looking at her now, I can finally believe that she would be capable of any act, especially if she felt that our child was in danger.
"You killed him," I say after a moment. "Your own husband?"
"I had no choice". There are tears in her eyes now, and it's clear that she has been beset by great anguish. "I killed the maid, too. Had I not done so, I would be dead by now, as would you, as would our child. Perhaps you think that I'm a terrible monster, my darling, but I did what was necessary. Please don't hate me for being practical. I killed them quickly and with as little pain as possible, and now we must work to ensure that my efforts weren't in vain". Grabbing my hand, she forces me to feel her belly, and for the first time I realize that I can detect a slight swelling. "Think of our child," she continues. "Think of this poor, innocent creature who knows nothing of the game, and nothing of the madness of the world. Now imagine what would happen if the game got hold of the child. Imagine the cruelty".
"I mourned your passing," I tell her. "I was ready to gain revenge for your death. I would have torn the city apart. I went to kill Harrison Blake, to rip his heart out and tell the world of his evil. I was willing to lay down my life in order that your murderers would be punished".
"You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you that I was still alive," she replies. "I knew it would haunt you to believe that I had died, but at the same time I had no choice. Mr. White was watching us, and I felt certain that the only way to persuade him of my death was to make him see the true anguish in your eyes. My heart broke a thousand times, my darling, but it was a necessary evil. Everything is for the child now. Don't you see? Even if our own lives are doomed, we must protect the child".
Staring into her eyes, I realize that - rightly or wrongly - I am once again allowing myself to be seduced by her words. From the moment she first inveigled her way into my heart, Henrietta has held sway over me, and once again she is poised to twist my thoughts and lure me along the path she has selected. Perhaps if I were a stronger man, I would be able to resist her siren call, but whenever I look into her eyes I see the true Henrietta, the woman I love and who requires my help and protection.
"For the child..." she says again, on the brink of tears.
"For the child," I reply.
"Let us hope," she continues, "that he or sh
e is able to grow up free from any knowledge of the game at all. Let us hope that our child never learns that we were involved in such horrific events. If this child can be healthy and happy, then everything else will have been worth the agony. I no longer care for my own skin, Jonathan. I was once craven and unholy, but since I felt the child in my belly, I have changed. Tell me you can see it in my eyes, my darling. Tell me you can see that the cruelty and evil has left my soul!"
I stare at her for a moment. "It was never there to begin with," I say eventually. "You were never evil, Henrietta".
"We must go to the heart of the game," she replies. "It will be a dead place right now. We must get there before there is anyone to protect the core. If we can destroy the game from within its heart, we can try to get away. We must go far from here, to another land, to a place where our names have never been spoken. We must raise the child far from the game's reaches".
Putting my arms around her, I pull her close. I never thought I'd have the chance to speak to her again, and I still fear that she might be snatched from me at any moment. Perhaps I'm a fool for accepting her claims, and for overlooking the fact that she murdered her husband and a maid, but I feel as if pure love is driving me onward. I don't fully understand the nature of the game, but I am certain that it must be destroyed, and I'm willing to place my life in Henrietta's hands. The child must be protected at all costs, and if we must venture into the heart of the game, then it seems we have no other choice.
Elly
Today
"Come on," I mutter, "pick up".
It's just after lunchtime, and I've finally managed to persuade a nurse to fetch my cellphone from my trousers. I guess I should be grateful for the fact that the phone managed to survive the journey from Mr. White's apartment, and that it's still got some battery left. I'm trying to get hold of my mother, but so far her phone just seems to be ringing and ringing. I know what she's like: she's fanatical about having her phone with her all the time, so I don't get why she'd not be picking up. Then again, now that she's with that Bob Stokes guy, I guess there's no way of telling exactly what she might be getting up to. Finally, realizing that she's obviously far too busy to answer, I wait for he answerphone to pick up.
"Hey," I say eventually, surprised at how weak I sound. "I'm..." I pause, realizing I don't want to worry her too much. "It's me. I'm okay, but I was just wondering if you want to meet up? I don't know, I feel like I left things pretty abruptly last time, and..." I pause again as I feel myself edging closer to tears. "I just wanted to -"
With no warning, the answerphone cuts off.
"Fuck you," I mutter, realizing that I've now left a half-baked message. My mother's bound to get worried when she hears it.
Sitting alone, I try to work out who to call next. There's a part of me that wants to get in touch with Mark, even though I'm fairly certain he's not going to want to talk to me. Seeing as my mother's out of the question, I figure there's probably just one person left, so I bring up Jess's number and wait for her to answer.
The call goes straight to her answerphone.
Feeling as if I'm going to go crazy if I don't manage to speak to someone, I go through the rest of the contacts on my phone, determined to find someone I can call. Eventually I realize I have the number for Sheila, a girl from Bristol who knows Jess, so I bring up her number.
"Hey," she says, picking up almost immediately. "Elly? Is that you?"
"Hey," I reply, feeling a little uncomfortable. "How are you doing?"
"Okay, I guess," she says. "Everything's kind of crazy, though. Have you heard anything from Jess?"
"No," I reply, immediately feeling a twinge of concern in my chest. "Why? Is she okay?"
"I don't know," she replies, "no-one's seen her. The last anyone heard, she was coming up to London to visit you".
"She left a few days ago," I tell her.
"That's what we figured. She was pretty clear about when she'd be coming back, and she had an exam, but she missed it. It's totally not like her. I called her parents and they haven't heard from her either, so it's kind of..." Her voice trails off for a moment. "I don't know. Do you think we should be worried?"
I sit in silence, trying to work out what's happening. The last time I saw Jess, she was hurrying out of Mark's apartment after our evening became a little heavy. I knew at the time that she was kind of freaked out by everything, and I'd been planning to call some time soon and straighten things out. It never occurred to me, though, that she might not have just gone straight home. Although I try to shake the fear, I'm immediately filled with a sense that something must be wrong. Call it paranoia or call it a sixth sense, but I swear to God I can feel in my gut that something bad has happened to her.
"Elly?" Sheila continues. "You still there?"
"Yeah," I reply. "I just... I thought she'd headed home".
"Her parents are pretty laid back, but they reckon they're gonna call the police if she doesn't get in touch by the end of the weekend. It's like, they know she can be kinda sketchy, and they totally know it wouldn't be unlike her to go off with some guy for a while, but at the same time..." She pauses. "Well, it's just a bit odd, right? You'd think she'd at least bother to reply to messages. I mean, did she say anything to you? Did she do anything weird?"
"No," I stutter. "I mean..." I take a deep breath as I realize there's no way I can explain everything right now. "I have a few numbers I can try," I say eventually. "I can maybe see if I can track her down. There are some people in London, I guess she might have gone to see them". I don't say it, of course, but in the back of my mind there's the fear that Mark is somehow involved with all of this. "It's okay," I add eventually. "I'll sort it out. I'll see what I can do". Without waiting for her to reply, I end the call.
Sitting in silence, I find myself starting to worry about Jess. After all that business with his ex-girlfriend Chrissie, I've been wondering whether I can entirely trust Mark. Jess came dangerously close to becoming involved in the game the other day, and although I want to tell myself that there's no way Mark would ever do anything to hurt her... I can't. It seems extreme, but I can't shake the fear that maybe Mark decided Jess knew too much, especially after my heart attack. Would he, or Mr. White, really go to such an extreme that they'd actually kidnap Jess or hurt her? Then again, I guess there's another option: what if my heart attack led Mark to consider other options? What if he's brought Jess into the game? I try not to imagine him seducing her with the same moves he used on me, but I can't deny that it's a possibility.
Looking down at my phone, I realize that I've only got one option left. Bringing up Mark's number, I try to work out what I'm going to say to him. I can't exactly accuse him of doing something to Jess, but at the same time I feel as if I have to know what I'm facing. The fact that Mark wasn't waiting by my bedside until I woke up is, itself, a bad sign. It's as if he's already washed his hands of me, in which case I should probably be grateful that he bothered to bring me to a hospital at all. He could just as easily have dumped me by the side of some road, or left me to die. As all these thoughts rush into my mind, I realize that I really don't know Mark very well at all.
Taking a deep breath, I hit the Call button. The phone rings, and as I wait for him to answer, I feel my chest start to tighten. Figuring I might be taking a risk with my heart if I subject myself to this stress, I almost cut the call, but finally I force myself to continue. I'm still not entirely certain what I'll say if and when he answers, but I know I have to face him sooner rather than later. I'm in a kind of limbo, suspended between my old life and my current life with Mark, and I need to know what's really happening. If I've accidentally led Jess into danger, I'll never forgive myself.
After a moment, the call goes to his answerphone, and I disconnect.
"Fuck you," I mutter, realizing that whatever he's doing, Mark is clearly cutting me out of his life. I think back to all the things we did together, and I start imagining him doing the same things with Jess: the trip to Zurich; t
he sex session with Mr. White observing; the nights out at expensive restaurants. Within seconds, I'm a seething ball of jealousy, and I've managed to completely convince myself that I've been screwed over. He obviously wants to -
Suddenly my phone starts ringing, and I see that Mark's trying to get through. After a moment's hesitation, I accept the call.
"Hello?" I say tentatively.
"Elly, how are you doing?" he replies. "I'm sorry, I was in a meeting and my phone was at the bottom of my briefcase. I was planning to come and see you as soon as I'm done, but how are things going? Dr. Abernathy called and said you were out of immediate danger. He said you'll be okay as long as you have plenty of rest".
"Yeah," I say cautiously, wondering whether I can trust him. "I need to see you," I add. "Soon. There's something I need to ask you. It's important".
"Of course," he replies. "I'll be at the hospital in a couple of hours. I'm on the other side of London and the traffic's probably going to be pretty bad, but I'll get there as fast as possible. Is there anything you want me to bring?"
I pause for a moment. He sounds so sincere and genuine, and it's tempting to believe that he actually cares. Then again, I feel as if I've already let him fool me a few too many times, and eventually I realize that his attempt to act like everything is normal has actually made things worse.
"Bring Jess," I say eventually.
"Jess?"
"Bring her".
"Your friend? How... I don't know where she is. Can't you -"
"Don't bullshit me".
Silence.
"I want to know the truth," I continue, feeling myself starting to fill up with a kind of icy determination. "I want to know what you've done with her, and I want to know what happened to Chrissie. I want to know everything. If you don't tell me, I swear to God I'll go straight to the police and tell them everything".
