by Amy Cross
When we get to the front door, a grim-looking man and woman are waiting. The man immediately lights a cigarette when he sees Catherine and then he heads outside, while the woman forces a smile and takes Catherine's case.
“Come along, dear,” the woman, evidently Catherine's mother, tells her. “Your father's anxious to get on the road again. Let's not dawdle.” She seems deeply uncomfortable, as if even being at Beacon's Ash is some kind of huge embarrassment.
“Goodbye, everyone,” Catherine says, turning and waving at us. “Please write to me!”
“I don't think that's advisable,” her mother hisses, putting a hand on Catherine's arm and steering her toward the door. “Let's just forget this place ever existed, okay?”
Outside, a car horn sounds, followed by Catherine's father shouting for them to hurry up.
“Ivy,” Catherine says suddenly, hurrying over to me and putting her hands on my shoulders, “I know things have been a little tense lately, but we are still friends, aren't we?”
I pause, before nodding.
“Mr. Kane isn't really so bad,” she adds, “and it's not like anyone has to stay here for too long. If you want my advice, just buckle down and get on with things. I honestly feel like I've grown up so much during my time here. I was a little girl when I arrived and now I feel much more grown-up.” Smiling, she kisses my forehead before turning and hurrying back to join her mother.
“She's so lucky,” Mary says as we all gather in the doorway to watch Catherine and her parents drive away. “I'd give anything to be able to go home for Christmas, but my bump isn't due for months yet.”
“What do you think Christmas will be like here?” Beryl asks. “I bet old Kane will make a real song and dance.”
“Catherine's right,” Wendy adds. “He's not that bad, not really.”
“Not that bad?” I reply, shocked to hear those words coming from her mouth. “What are you talking about? He's a monster! He killed Abigail and Sissy!”
“Sissy killed Sissy,” Mary mutters, rolling her eyes.
“And Abigail's just a very sad case indeed,” Beryl adds.
Wendy sighs. “Come on, Ivy, don't be melodramatic. Old Kane can be harsh when he's punishing one of us, but we just have to learn to be good and then punishment won't be an issue. I think he genuinely wants to make sure we're okay and, well, sometimes he goes a little too far, that's all.”
“Please don't make trouble,” Maud says, patting my shoulder as she walks past. “It makes it bad for all of us if you do. I wanted to curl up and die in class the other day when you were ranting at him.”
“Do you know what he did to me in his office?” I ask. “Didn't you hear me screaming?”
“Yes,” Mary replies with a sigh, “but you kind of...” Her voice trails off for a moment. “Well, what I mean is, you did misbehave pretty tremendously, so it's not like it came out of nowhere.”
“So you think I deserved it?” I ask, taking a step back. “Are you seriously saying that?”
I wait for one of them to reply, for one of them to point out that Kane is a monster, but they seem to have closed ranks pretty effectively. Now, all of a sudden, I'm apparently the one who causes trouble around here and Beacon's Ash would be a wonderful place without my histrionics. Realizing that there's no point arguing with them, I turn and head toward the door.
“Harlot,” a voice hisses.
I turn and look back at the others, but I have no idea which of them said that word. Not wanting them to see the tears in my eyes, I hurry out into the corridor and then stop to regather my composure. I swear I will not let them upset me, but a moment later I hear a few of them heading out into the playground.
“She's going to cause trouble,” one of them says. “I can tell.”
“I think she had a crush on Doctor Ratcliffe,” another adds, “and that's why she's upset now he's gone.” They start giggling. “Mind you, he was rather dreamy. I wouldn't mind if he comes back.”
My hands are shaking as I listen to them laughing and joking. In the distance, the grandfather clock strikes three and I realize that in just two hours' time I have to be at Kane's office for another private class. I want to turn and run away, to bolt across the frozen field and try to get to the nearest town, and then to tell everyone what goes on at this place. Maybe the police would even come and start poking around, if I could persuade them. I know I wouldn't make it as far as town, though, not in this condition. I'd most likely collapse and freeze to death in the snow, and while there's a part of me that would accept that risk...
Reaching down, I place my hands on my bump.
“I wouldn't do that to you,” I whisper, thinking of the baby growing slowly inside my body. “Don't worry, I'll keep you safe.”
Then again, can I really make that promise? Even if I'm perfectly behaved until the day I give birth, after that my baby will be taken away by the same people who took Catherine's baby. I can't help worrying that wherever the babies end up, it might be somewhere just as bad as Beacon's Ash. I can't escape and I can't stay, and I feel as if my baby and I are doomed. The worst thing is, I've found small patches of blood in my underwear over the past couple of days, and I'm starting to think that Kane's punishment is already hurting my child. If I keep fighting back, I might lose the baby altogether.
“Think of something,” I mutter under my breath, as I close my eyes and try to concentrate on coming up with a plan. “Damn it, Ivy Jones, don't be an idiot. Think of a way out of here.”
Part Ten
IVY JONES
I
“It's Christmas,” Mr. Kane says as he stands with his back to me, looking out the window and watching the other girls in the playground. “Do you miss your family today, Ivy?”
He turns to me, with a flicker of a smile on his lips.
“No, Sir,” I reply cautiously, as I button my shirt back up. I flinch a little as the fabric touches my fresh wounds, but I suppose I just have to get from here to the dormitory and then I can clean myself properly. To be honest, he didn't whip me as much as usual today, and he commented several times that I've been better behaved recently. I hate letting him think that I've become more obedient, but I can't risk any kind of punishment that hurts my baby. I'm still finding specks of blood in my underwear, but there's no longer a doctor here so I can't ask anyone what's happening. I just wish my hands weren't trembling so much, so that I might get these buttons fixed faster and ask to leave the room.
I've begun to pray, though. A lot.
“Christmas is a peculiar mix of Christian and pagan traditions,” Kane continues, heading back to his desk. “I'm not a puritan, Miss Jones, not by any means, but I do feel that the wider population would benefit from a stricter adherence to the true meaning of Christmas. A little more reflection, you understand, and sober contemplation of life's purpose.” Sighing, he starts sorting through the papers on his desk. “The pagan festivities, the excuse for gluttony and excess, the self-serving sense of satisfaction... Don't you find such things to be a little repulsive?”
I know he's testing me, but I can't bring myself to agree with him. For a moment, I think about what my family will be doing today. There'll be fun and games, and presents too, even though we don't have much money and the war is still on. For a moment, I feel a flush of tears behind my eyes as I find myself wondering if they're missing me right now. Maybe they're glad I'm not there, maybe they're just pretending I don't exist at all. Maybe I disgraced them and now they don't really want me back.
“I know what you are,” Kane says suddenly.
I turn to him. “I beg your pardon?”
He walks around his desk and comes over to the chair where I'm sitting. Towering over me, it's almost as if he's studying me and looking for signs of something in my face.
“Do you not wish to speak to me directly?” he asks.
“I... I'm not sure I know what you mean.”
“Don't hide behind the young girl's face,” he continues. “Show yourself. Let
me see your true features, and let me hear your true voice. After all, I have waited long enough for this moment.”
I wait, but I honestly don't know what he's talking about. Finishing with the last of my buttons, I get to my feet.
“The Devil himself is inside you, Ivy,” he adds finally. “It is the Devil's soul that fuels your rebelliousness, and he means to use you as his hand on this earth. He was in Miss Cartwright before, and now he is in you. She screamed denial until her last breath left her body, but the truth was plain to see in her eyes, as it is in yours.”
“I don't have the Devil inside me,” I reply, trying not to panic. “Please, Sir, it's just not true.”
“You are possessed,” he continues. “I had my suspicions early on, but I knew for certain when you launched your little tirade in class. That's why I didn't try to stop you. Finally you were letting the mask slip, and I had to see your wickedness in all its glory.” Setting his walking stick aside, he gets down onto his knees, as if he wants to get a better look at my eyes. “The Devil himself is here at Beacon's Ash, hiding now in the body of a sinful young girl named Ivy Jones. I must prove to the Lord that I am equal to the task of dispatching this evil.”
I shake my head. He can't really believe this, can he? Even Jeremiah Kane isn't completely insane.
“Speak to me,” he says with a faint smile, reaching out and running a finger against the side of my face.
Instinctively, I step back.
He smiles. “There is no point denying it, not now,” he continues. “I see the Devil in your eyes, Ivy, and it is my duty to exorcise him from your soul.” Suddenly he reaches out and grabs my left wrist, holding me tight. “I understand that you are scared,” he tells me, his voice trembling with anticipation, “but you must overcome your fear. I cannot promise that you will survive the process, but I can promise that if you die, it will be in your natural state and you will be free of the Devil's influence in the end. I am the only one in this whole world, Ivy, who cares enough to want to save your soul.”
“You're mad,” I whisper, shocked by the expression of fervent passion in his eyes. I try to pull my wrist free of his grip, but he's holding me too firmly. “Please, I'm not possessed by anything!”
“The first stage is for you to admit it,” he sneers. “You effectively did that the other day in class, by shouting and ranting. The other girls saw it too, Ivy. Haven't you noticed a change in their disposition toward you? They finally realize what you are, and they see that I only mean to help. I always knew that God would one day put me in a position to prove myself, and now here I am, ready to do battle with the Devil at this school. It is fitting that such evil has taken the form of a child in my care, but I am ready for this test. The Lord knows that I will save you from the monster in your soul, Ivy, and that the Devil will have no hiding place at Beacon's Ash!”
“Stop!” I shout, still trying to twist free of his grip on my wrist. “Let me go!”
“Is the Devil fearful?” he asks, holding me even tighter. “Do you feel him panicking, Ivy? That's a good sign, it means that he fears me!”
“The Devil isn't inside me!” I hiss, tugging as hard as I can to get free. “It wasn't inside Abigail either! You're insane!”
He starts laughing.
“Stop!” I shout, turning and pulling away. At that moment, however, Kane snaps my wrist around and I let out a cry of pain as I feel the bone break. Dropping to my knees, I gasp as the damaged edges grind against one another, and finally Kane lets go and gets to his feet. Still in agony, I hold my left hand up and try to move the fingers, but I can't.
He broke my wrist.
“The constant pain will unsettle the Devil in your soul, Ivy,” Kane says calmly, “and he will no longer be able to rest. I sincerely hope that it will not take too much additional torment to drive him out of you completely, but I assure you...” Stepping closer, he puts a hand under my chin and tilts my tear-stained face up to look at him. “I am strong enough,” he continues, “to rid you of the Devil's possession, no matter the cost. Do not fear, Ivy. I am strong enough.”
***
“That will do for now,” Mrs. Kilmartin says as she finishes wrapping a bandage around my broken wrist. “The most important thing is that you don't put any strain on it whatsoever.”
“I need to see a doctor,” I reply, trying once again to move my fingers. It's a hopeless task. “If Doctor Ratcliffe isn't coming back, can't I be taken to town? I need to see an actual doctor!”
“There's no need for that.”
“It hurts,” I sob.
“Mr. Kane specifically ordered that you be given nothing to ease your discomfort,” she continues. “I'm sorry, Ivy, but he thinks the pain will...” She pauses for a moment. “Well, I'm sure he's right. Besides, it's Christmas. I doubt very much that a doctor can be rustled up, today of all days.”
“Can't you do something?” I whimper, still trying to move my fingers. “What if it never gets better? What if my hand never works again?” Wincing, I feel as if something is burning in the cracks of my broken bones.
“Not you're just being hysterical,” she replies as she starts packing away the scissors and other equipment she used on me. “We all have burdens in this world, Ivy, and you must learn to carry yours with a little more dignity and maturity. I hope you won't go around crying all the time and trying to get people to feel sorry for you.”
“He thinks I'm possessed by the Devil,” I reply, sniffing back tears.
“So he told me.”
“He's insane!” I hiss. “He's actually -”
Before I can finish, she reaches out and grabs my damaged wrist, giving it enough of a jerk to grind the bones together and send a wave of agony through my body. She holds tight for a moment before letting go, and I start sobbing as I lean forward and hold my breath, waiting for the worst of the pain to pass. For a few seconds, it's as if a hot poker is being driven through my arm, but finally the sensation abates just enough for me to let out a brief, frustrated gasp.
“If I were you,” Mrs. Kilmartin sneers, “I would think very carefully about my conduct. Or would you like to be permanently separated from the rest of the girls? That could be arranged, you know, if you cause too much trouble.”
I let out another gasp as I feel the pain burning through my wrist.
“Well?” she continues. “Answer me, Ivy. Are you going to grow up here and now, or do you require more punishment first?”
“Please,” I whimper, feeling a little short of breath, “can't you just give me something to make it stop hurting?”
“Here,” she adds, reaching out to grab my wrist again. “Perhaps you need another -”
Suddenly something flashes past me and crashes into the side of Mrs. Kilmartin's face. Shocked, I look up just as she pulls back, and a fraction of a second later an empty glass bottle smashes as it falls and hits the floor.
“What in the name of...” Taking a step back, Mrs. Kilmartin stares across the room, her face suddenly white as a sheet. “Did you see that, Ivy?”
“See what?” I look over my shoulder, but there's nothing nearby. Turning back, I notice a bruise already forming on Mrs. Kilmartin's face where the bottle apparently struck her.
“It just flew out of nowhere,” she continues, taking another step back, as if she's terrified of being struck again at any moment. “It was almost as if some unseen...” Her voice trails off for a moment, before she turns to me with wild, shocked eyes. “Something attacked me! Something in this room attacked me when I...”
I look around again, and a moment later I feel something brush against my arm. Turning, I realize that there's still no-one, but suddenly I feel something on my shoulder.
A hand.
“It must be the Devil himself,” Mrs. Kilmartin stammers. “That's the only explanation! The Devil is getting scared, he knows he's being run out of this place and he's lashing out at those of us who remain virtuous and unaffected.” Turning to me, she seems to be filled with an
ger now. “He's protecting you! That's what he's doing! He's protecting the one foul little girl in this whole school who's weak enough to let him into her soul!”
I can't reply. I can only sit here with the hand still resting on my shoulder. Clearly Mrs. Kilmartin can't see anything standing behind me, or she would have reacted by now, but...
What if she's right?
What if the Devil really is here, and what if he really is possessing my soul in some way? With a slow sense of horror creeping up through my chest, I realize that I might have been wrong all along. And Kane might be right about me. The hand on my shoulder might, indeed, belong to the Devil himself.
II
“Hello, Ivy,” Beryl says cheerfully as we pass in the corridor, “are you coming outside to sing carols?”
Ignoring her, I hurry toward the door at the far end. My damaged left wrist is still hurting, although I've tucked it under my right armpit in the hope that a little warmth might ease the pain. Fat chance, but I figure it's worth a try. Hunched over and with tears on my face, I probably look absolutely awful, but I simply don't care right now. I can still feel a hand resting on my right shoulder, and I just want to get far away from other people so I can try to work out what's happening to me. Is the Devil really here with me?
“Ivy?” Beryl calls after me. “We'll be in the playground if you change your mind! It is Christmas Day after all!”
As soon as I'm in the empty dormitory with the door shut, I lean back against the wall and try to get my breath back. The room is dark and desperately cold, and I can see my breath in the air. Hurrying to the radiator, I try to turn the wheel that'll get it to heat up, but it's too stiff and with only one working hand I have no chance. I try a little longer, desperate for warmth, but finally I lose my grip and fall, banging my head hard against the radiator's metal side and letting out a brief cry as I tumble back onto one of the beds. A moment later I hear the girls piping up outside with a version of Silent Night. Glancing toward the frost-covered windows, I see that the sky is already dark outside, but that snow is falling thick and fast. I shuffle across the room and peer outside, and sure enough the girls are all gathered over at the far side of the playground as they sing.
