by Tony C. Skye
“Eh!”, a loud grunt echoes from the hall into Victoria's room. It's Caroline.
Victoria lowers her hands and runs towards the evil presence emanating from the hallway. She doesn't care. This is her daughter. Victoria swings open Caroline's bedroom door. She stops.
“Mommy,” a child's voice speaks quietly from the direction of Caroline's dresser. Victoria glances to her right. The little girl ghost is pointing.
“The bad man took us.”
Victoria visibly shakes as she looks back to her daughter crouched in the far right corner of the room by her bathroom. Caroline is crying while she digs her fingernails into her left arm. Victoria notices blood dripping onto the floor as she dashes over towards her daughter.
“Caroline! Stop it!”
“Mommy,” the little girl ghost speaks out.
Victoria stops just short of her daughter. She doesn't know how she understands this girl's intentions, but she does. The little girl is trying to help. Victoria steps back from her whimpering daughter in the corner while she digs her nails into her arm. The woman turns and looks at the ghostly apparition.
“Mommy,” the spirit speaks again, “We died.”
Victoria begins sobbing as she watches the child change into a white mist that continually breaks apart until there is nothing left to see. She hears Caroline begin to laugh. Victoria turns her attention towards the sounds of many rushing waters. Her daughter's strange laugh is intermingled with many various tones. Yet it is clear, the dominant voice is male.
Victoria takes a step forward, but stops her approach whenever Caroline begins sniffing at the air like an animal. Caroline pauses to cock her head curiously. Victoria's lips tremble as she watches blood drip down her daughter's face. On closer examination, however, Victoria realizes her daughter's forehead contains a word. It is a word that instantly angers her…Mine.
The doctor doesn't know God, but she will not bow before this thing attempting to steal her daughter away from her.
“God help her!”, Victoria cries out within her desperation.
“Noooo,” many voices sound as if they have been harmed. To Victoria's horror, Caroline stands upright as though she were a puppet pulled by its strings.
“You can't make us leeeave, Veeek-tor-riaaaahhh.”
Caroline collapses to the floor and pants like a tired animal caught in a trap.
* * *
Victoria wipes the tears from her eyes.
“We will figure this out,” Dr. Evans comforts while gently placing his right hand on Victoria's left shoulder.
Victoria listens to her daughter yell out obscenities at the mental ward's orderlies. She watches Caroline struggle against the restraints holding her to the gurney.
“Would you like to ride with her?”, Dr. Evans questions his boss.
Victoria shakes her head, “I can't. I won't be able to go through with it.”
The traumatized woman sighs while wiping her eyes again. She forces a faked professional smile, “I'll meet you over there.”
“I will personally see to it that she is well cared for.”
“I know, Jason,” Victoria turns away from the scene by the ambulance, “That's why I called you.”
She walks towards her house. Her mind is numb. She is lost. And worse than anything else, Dr. Victoria Reynold's has no remedy for her daughter.
* * *
Dr. Evans looks up. Victoria walks down the hallway. He meets her halfway.
“She's been sedated,” Dr. Evans informs.
“I need to see her,” Victoria demands calmly.
“Of course,” Dr. Evans turns and begins walking, “She's this way.”
Victoria follows the doctor to a set of double metal doors with a glass security room to the right.
Buzz...click-click.
Victoria enters the psychiatric wing of the hospital. She follows Dr. Evans to the third door on the left. He swipes his security card and steps aside.
“I'll be out here when you are ready,” Dr. Evans informs her that she will have her space.
Victoria steps into the white padded room. Her eyes water as the door clicks and locks behind her. She, slowly, approaches her daughter's new bed. Victoria reaches up and pushes her daughter's blood-matted hair away from the right side of her face.
“I - I am so sorry, baby,” Victoria whispers. She sniffles. The woman jerks her hand away when she hears faint growling escaping her daughter's lips.
Victoria's brows narrow. She grabs her daughter's eyelids and lifts them open. The angered woman places her face close enough to Caroline that both of their noses touch. Victoria's brown eyes are filled with a new resolve.
“You listen to me,” Victoria threatens, “You will not have her. I will beat you.”
Victoria releases her daughter's eyelids and kisses Caroline's forehead.
“Did you feel that?”, Caroline's mother speaks through her anger, “She is mine.”
Victoria straightens herself, turns, and walks swiftly across the floor. She bangs on the closed window. Dr. Evans opens the slider and immediately swipes his security card. He opens the door.
“I'll be back soon,” Victoria promises with a cold tone.
Dr. Evans nods, “I've already ordered her blood work.”
Victoria walks towards the psychiatric ward's entrance, “Do what you do. You're her doctor. And I'll do what I do. I'm her mother.”
“You!”, Victoria snaps at a guard who has his legs propped up on a stool within the security booth, “Open this door or find another job!”
The short man scrambles to his feet and pushes on a button. Dr. Evans shakes his head. One thing his boss doesn't tolerate is laziness on the job. And if your laziness has just interfered with her daughter's welfare, you can bet your bottom dollar someone has just lost that job.
* * *
Victoria leaves the hospital and walks across the street towards the parking lot. After stepping onto the parking lot's black surface, she makes her way to the row where she parked. Victoria sees her car and slows her pace.
“Can I help you?”, the doctor questions. She is careful to not approach the stranger too closely. A hooded figure sits on the trunk of her Cadillac. Exhibiting a complete disrespectfulness of her property, they also have their tennis shoes resting on her car's bumper.
“I tried to stop her,” a voice speaks with indifference from beneath the hood,
“But Caroline invited him.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you? How do you know Caroline?”
The hooded stranger remains silent.
“Answer me!”, Victoria demands. She begins to walk closer towards her car, but stops whenever the stranger raises their right hand. Somehow, she understands that the traffic cop motion has nothing to do with her. She hears a voice over her left back shoulder.
“Don't turn around,” a man's voice quietly instructs, “Just calm down and listen.”
“Who are you people? ”, Victoria nervously questions, “What do you want?”
“Victoria,” the voice underneath the black hood pronounces her name with a hint of disdain, “The only thing that matters right now is that Caroline invited him. And this is a serious problem for the both of you.”
“Him? What on earth are you rambl...”
“Silence!”, the hooded figure orders loudly. The stranger’s voice quickly calms itself, “Come closer.”
Victoria hesitates, but a strong large hand upon her back changes her mind. She obeys and walks forward. When she nears her car’s trunk, the voice underneath the hood speaks again.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
Victoria glances around the parking lot to see if she can witness any pedestrians walking about.
“You scream. You die,” the voice underneath the hood states as a matter of fact.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” a man's voice reiterates the commandment in which the frightened woman must comply.
Victoria cl
oses her eyes and holds out her shaky arms to be readied for the bindings which are sure to follow. She gasps as the hooded figure firmly grips both of her wrists. Her hands are turned palm upward. A heavy, roundish object is placed into her right palm with the utmost care. The stranger re-positions Victoria's left hand over her right.
“Tell me,” the hooded figure calmly speaks, “What is it that you feel within your hands?”
Victoria nervously runs her fingers over the object. Her heart races with her escalating fear as the reality of what she is holding begins to sink in. She speaks the familiar letters within her finger's touch.
“Gariatu Estidium Merné,” Victoria pronounces the words perfectly. She opens her eyes, “W-Why have you come?”
“Hand it back, Victoria,” a second man's voice gently instructs from behind her. She holds out the family emblem. The hooded figure shakes their head and points at the asphalt by her feet.
“Please, I'm sorry,” Victoria pleas while kneeling, “I just wanted a normal life.”
The hooded figure slides off of the back of the Cadillac and stands inches from Victoria. The figure's hands reach up and slips the hood down to their shoulders. A woman is revealed with long wavy raven blue-black hair. Her eyes are a deep emerald green and her side bangs are tinged with red.
“The prophecy,” Victoria gasps.
Julianna grins, “You can call me, Mother.” She steps back against the bumper and lowers her head. Victoria's nervous hands shake as she places the emblem back around the woman’s neck. When Julianna looks back up, she gazes into Victoria's teary brown eyes.
“You don't really believe I came all this way to punish you, do you?”, Julianna's voice is gentle within its intent. She offers her left hand, “Stand up, Victoria.”
Victoria takes the Mother's hand and stands.
“I could never hold ill feelings towards anyone attempting to live their life as they see fit,” Julianna explains, “You have done no wrong in my eyes.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Victoria recognizes Julianna's authority.
“You understand the penalty for trying to steer me away from a decision, Victoria,” Julianna reminds the woman in case she conveniently forgot, “And one of my decisions is to help Caroline. But you cannot explain who I am to her. If you do, you both die.”
“No, of course not,” Victoria understands the seriousness of the woman standing before her.
“And you will not interfere with Caroline's decision concerning me should that time arise,” Julianna adds to Victoria's mental list, “She will choose by her own choices. If you try it, you will both die. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Victoria answers, “Just please don't hurt her.” The doctor jerks when Julianna laughs unexpectedly.
“Victoria, I am not here because of Caroline. I already have plans on going in there and helping her. I am out here to give you a chance to live.”
Julianna's smile fades – her dark brows narrow.
“Do I have your word on these matters?”
“Yes, Mother. You have my word.”
Julianna nods as she takes Victoria's sweaty palms with her hands. She leans in and kisses each side of Victoria's cheeks.
“You are forgiven, Victoria,” Julianna smiles, “My word is final. You no longer need to live in fear. Your family's wealth is yours again. This is my desire. This is my commandment.”
Victoria notices Julianna's green eyes have issued the order to one of the men standing behind her.
“As you so desire, Mother,” Victoria hears a man's voice speak from over her right shoulder.
Julianna releases Victoria's hands, “I do not require you to return to us. I only expect your loyalty and for you to keep your promise to me.”
Victoria nods, “You have them both, Mother.”
“In the morning, your bank account will reflect your family's wealth. You will not struggle because you are living your life. I won't have it. Unless, that's a problem for you?”
“N-no,” Victoria can't quite believe what she is hearing right now, “Of course it isn't a problem.”
Julianna winks, “I didn't think so.” She looks towards the hospital, “Let's go free Caroline from those pesky demons.”
“Demons?”, Victoria's eyes widen, “Please forgive me, Mother. But I thought you said she invited him?”
“I did. But he brought some of his buddies with him,” Julianna settles
the matter.
Victoria follows in behind Julianna as she walks towards the hospital's entrance. She would say something about the whole visitation hours’ thing, but she already knows there is no such thing for the Mother of Darkwaters. If the Mother plans on walking into a secure facility after hours, then, wary to anyone who attempts to stop her.
* * *
Chapter 10
Blasphemy
“Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, dear Julianna.
Happy birthday to you.”
Julianna listens and watches the crowd of people – most in whom she has never met in her life – all finish their song with the clapping of hands. Her grams walks from the front of the standing crowd side-by-side with her grandfather. Martha holds a small white cake in her hands with her family's emblem decorated upon the cake's top. Seventeen candles are lit within the star's center.
“Make a wish, dear,” Martha proudly instructs to the birthday girl as she approaches.
Julianna takes a deep inhale and blows. She fails to extinguish one of the candles. Feeling a little embarrassed by her debauchery, she inhales again and blows with a little more purpose. The stubborn candle still flickers while everyone laughs.
“Ha - funny,” Julianna directs her sarcasm towards her grandparents. By Frank's chuckle, Julianna assumes he is the culprit behind the trick candle.
Martha winks, “Happy birthday, Julia.” She turns and walks over to one of the four twelve foot long tables housing the much larger cakes prepared for the guests. She sits Julianna's cake down on one end of the table as Julianna speaks.
“Thank you all for coming to celebrate this joyous occasion with me.”
Martha smiles subtly. Her granddaughter is using her proper etiquette well.
“I look forward to meeting each and every one of you,” Julianna recites her practiced speech. She glances to her left for confirmation.
“Whenever you are ready, Mother,” Frank nods while offering his right arm.
Julianna reaches up and places her left hand on her escort's arm. Together, they both turn to face the red velvet carpet leading up to the large throne. Julianna swallows and then staggers an inhale of breath while looking at the red rose petals lying upon the carpet's surface. She feels her grandfather's arm move forward and responds accordingly by taking her first step onto the flower-covered pathway.
“You look beautiful today,” Frank compliments.
“I want to throw up,” Julianna quietly answers while doing her best to not move her lips.
“You're doing fine,” Frank coaches, “It'll all be over before you know it.”
“It's too much,” Julianna references the two women in blue who are carrying her long green dress off of the ground, “They have to be tired by now.”
“I'm proud of you for giving Martha this day. But don't forget this is your day.”
Frank looks at his arm where his granddaughter's clinching hand attempts to relax. Convinced there isn't a whole lot else he can say, Frank silently leads his granddaughter to the bottom of the three stairs which ascend up to the throne. When they stop, she smiles nervously. Frank nods with a calm reassurance in his eyes while gently releasing her hand from his arm. Julianna ascends the stairs and turns as practiced. The two women carrying the train of her dress expertly follow her lead.
A small breeze blows. Julianna sees rose petals scattering onto the green lawn from the red carpet. Immediately afterwards, a small team of six women wearing yellow dresses all rush aroun
d to gather up the lost petals. While they each dispose of the petals inside of wicker baskets reserved for the tainted flowers, a second team of women begin swarming around the red carpet. These women wear white dresses and are tasked with hiding the red carpet with fresh new petals. Julianna feels like screaming. She has been watching this madness all morning. And for the life of her, she doesn't see the need for any of it. It's too much.
She forces out a minimal smile while nodding to both women holding her dress. The woman to her right is Amelia Daxton. She's the woman who first revealed the horrors of abuse that had been occurring within Julianna's house. The woman to her left, Danielle Ryte, had experienced no different – as did all of the so-called subordinates. But not any longer. Not in Julianna's house. She might not live here yet, but no one's abusing anyone in her household. Not now. Not ever.
Julianna sits down upon the luxurious throne fit for a queen. Her belly churns with nausea as some of the crowd claps while others kneel reverently. She is starting to believe that her favored choice in deodorant might need reconsidering. Not that she stinks, because she doesn’t. Julianna smells like a flower garden thanks to her grams; but rather, she can feel that uncomfortable familiarity of stress heat. There is this slightest hint of moisture taunting her with the idea that it will soon pour its embarrassing fluid through her dress; thus announcing, ‘Hey everyone! Look at this nasty filthy pig over here! She’s the richest oink-oink of them all!’
“Our Mother is come!”, someone shouts from within the crowd.
Julianna fakes a smile of approval while the faces of strangers again begin to cheer and tear in some macabre symphony of out of tune delight.
“Mother,” Frank speaks from the bottom of the stairs. His interruption helps to curb Julianna's desire to run away and purge. She glances to her grandfather and then to the two people standing beside him.
“This is the prince Demetri Vilikmonv and his lovely wife – the princess, Shelnia. They hail from Russia,” Frank introduces the strangers to his granddaughter.
