by Amy Cross
I'm alone.
"I'm here," says a voice nearby. Seconds later, I see Abigail's face appear above me. "Where did she go?" she asks, looking around. "Where is she?"
I stare up at her, trying to determine if she - like Sophie - is all in my mind.
"I saw her!" Abigail shouts, with tears in her eyes. "Why did she go away when I came? Why didn't she -" She pauses. "That was her, wasn't it? At least tell me it was her!" She waits for me to say something. "I just want to talk to her!" she continues, with tears in her eyes. "Please, make her come back." She looks around again. "Where is she?" she asks. "Come back!" she shouts at the top of her voice, before turning back to me. Tears are streaming down her face, and her bottom lip is trembling. "Please," she says, "if you only do one thing for me ever again, make her come back. I just want to hear her voice one time. Please. I know you can do it. Please try."
I close my eyes. This must be part of the hallucination. Abigail was locked in the room at Gothos; although it's technically possible for someone to escape, I find it hard to believe that she would have found a way, especially so fast. So many great vampires have gone into that room and become trapped, it's simply impossible that Abigail could have succeeded where they all failed. Are my final moments to be filled with these strange waking dreams? Opening my eyes again, I see Abigail still leaning over me.
"I'm taking you back to Gothos," she says after a moment. "If she came to you once, she can come again. I'm going to take you back, and then you can take me back to the real world." She pauses. "Why didn't you tell me I have a sister? Why didn't you tell me about Gwendoline?"
I close my eyes again. Death must be just seconds away. After a moment, I feel something moving under my body, and I open my eyes to find that Abigail has picked me up in her arms and has starting carrying me back toward Gothos. Can this really be all in my mind? As the snow continues to fall, I hear the sound of crunching bones under Abigail's feet. Perhaps none of this is real; perhaps I've already died, and this is how it all ends. I'd like to believe that Abigail has managed to surprise me, but such things simply aren't possible. These can't be Abigail's arms that are holding me; they must be the arms of Death itself.
Abigail
The night seems to last forever. As I finally get back to Gothos, carrying Patrick in my arms, the first rays of dawn are starting to appear to the east. I feel as if I've been walking forever, struggling to carry my father across the mountain before stumbling down into the valley. The snow seemed to follow us, but I didn't stop walking. Occasionally I heard noises in the darkness around us, but still I didn't stop. We even came upon Edward's dead body, frozen next to the embers of his fire, but we didn't stop to bury him; I just kept walking and now, after such a long journey, I'm standing before Gothos, still holding Patrick. Finally the sun comes up, as if it has been waiting for our return.
The door to the study has been left open, banging in the wind. I carry Patrick inside and put him on the sofa, before going back to the door and locking it tight. Kneeling next to the sofa, I look into Patrick's eyes and see that he's looking straight ahead. He's not dead, but he seems to have given up on life. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or even if there's anything I can do, but I figure I have to at least try. I grab a blanket from nearby and carefully place it over him. At least he won't be cold.
"Can you leave us alone for a moment?" says a voice behind me. I turn to find Diana standing at the door.
"I want to be with him," I say.
"He'll still be here when you get back," she replies. "Please, just give me a few minutes alone with him. There's something I need to give him."
Standing up, I walk over to the door. "Where's Gwendoline?" I ask. At that moment, I hear a crashing sound from elsewhere in the house, as if someone is destroying the structure of Gothos itself; the noise is accompanied by a distant scream, and then what sounds like a piano being destroyed.
"I believe she's in the conservatory," Diana says calmly, "although it might be best to keep away from her for a while. She believes you to still be locked in the room, and she believes Patrick to be lost forever."
"She's right about one of those things," I say, looking back over at my father's prone form on the sofa. "Is there any way to save him?"
"No," she says, "but perhaps his life can be prolonged a little. Let us see what the new day brings."
I glance over at the window. "I met an old man out there, camping on the side of the mountain."
"That's impossible," Diana replies. "Nothing and no-one can live out there, apart from beasts and shadows."
"He said his name was Sir Edward Moss," I tell her. "I said he should come down to Gothos, but he didn't listen. He's dead now. His body's still up there."
She smiles. "Sir Edward Moss died many years ago. He's buried in the garden, but the land around Gothos is full of ghosts." There's another crashing sound from another room; it sounds as if Gwendoline has worked herself up into quite a temper. "You were right to bring Patrick back," Diana continues, barely reacting to the distant carnage. "He wasn't supposed to die out there. Besides, you need him."
"I'm going to find Gwendoline," I tell her. "She's my sister."
Diana smiles kindly, before turning and walking across the room toward Patrick. I head into the hallway, listening out for some indication of Gwendoline's location. I have no idea what I'm going to do when I find her, but I have to talk to her and find out what's happening. Now that I know she's my sister, I feel as if I owe her some help. Whatever's wrong, I can still make sure she's okay. There's no need for her to suffer here. Besides, once Patrick is gone, Gwendoline will be my only family in the whole world, and I don't want to be completely alone. We can work together. We can be proper sisters. I can take her to the real world and show her a full life.
"Gwendoline!" I call out, my voice echoing through the house. "Where are you? It's me!"
I hear wood splintering nearby, followed by a grunt of fury. It's clear that she's close, although I'm still not entirely sure which direction to go.
"Gwendoline!" I shout. "It's me!"
Suddenly the sounds stop, which I guess means that she's heard me. Figuring I might as well keep moving, I walk through to the reception room, but there's no sign of anyone. Heading over to the next door, I look into the billiards room and see a pile of dead maids gathered on the carpet. Getting closer, I see that they've all had their throats ripped open, and blood has pooled beneath them. Whoever killed them has arranged them in a neat pile, creating a macabre scene.
"What are you doing here?" says Gwendoline breathlessly, who has appeared in a doorway at the end of the room. She looks awful: her dress is tattered and torn, her hair is unkempt and has several bald spots where clumps have been ripped out, and her skin is yellowing and wrinkled. She stares at me with the darkest green eyes I've ever seen, full of rage and hatred.
"I was looking for you," I say, trying not to let her see that I'm disgusted by how she looks. I turn back to the maids. "Did you do this?" I ask.
"You're not real," she replies. "You're still locked in the room."
"I got out."
"Liar!" she screams, close to tears. "No-one can get out! I put you in there and you'll rot forever!"
"I got out through the window," I tell her.
She pauses, looking completely disgusted by me. "Look at me," she says after a moment. "Am I still beautiful?"
"Yes," I say.
"Lying again," she mutters, limping toward me. Her left foot appears to be partially hanging off, and she leaves a trail of blood across the floor. "You've just shown me that you're an inveterate liar, Abigail. That means I can't ever trust you again. Not that I trusted you before, but I believed you to be simple-minded and easy to understand." She edges closer. "How did you really get out?"
"Like I said, I used the window." I pause. "The only thing that was keeping me in that room was my own mind. Once I realized that, I knew I could leave."
She narrows her eyes as she starts cir
cling me. "It doesn't matter," she says after a moment. "Our father is gone. He went for his death walk, so we're both abandoned."
"He's back," I tell her. "I went and got him."
"You did what?" she sneers. "You went... and got him?"
"He's in the study," I say.
I can see the fury building in her soul. She's keeping her distance from me now, but she seems to feel nothing for me but pure hatred. "Why did you do that?" she asks eventually. "You should just let him die. We don't need him. He's never done anything for us. He just hurts us, and makes us suffer."
"I need him," I say.
"I needed him!" she shouts. "He didn't help me! Why should he help you? Why shouldn't you be forced to end up like me?"
"Come with me," I say, reaching out my hand. "Let's go and sit with him. He's dying, Gwendoline. Let's go and sit down as a family, just this once."
"Do you think I want to touch you?" she replies, staring at my hand as if it's the most disgusting thing she's ever seen. "This is probably a trick. You and Patrick got together and worked out how to hurt me again. I was wrong about you, Abigail. You're just like him. You're just like Daddy."
"No," I say, trying to stay calm, "I'm not. I'm not like him, and I don't think I'm like Sophie either. I'm me. I'm a little bit like both of them, but I'm my own person and I'm not going to hurt you." I keep my hand outstretched, hoping she might accept my offer. "If he tries to hurt you, I'll stop him," I continue. "I promise. I'll take your side. But please, come with me."
She pauses for a moment. "I can't let him see me like this," she mutters. "I'm hideous."
"You're not hideous," I tell her.
"Look at my skin," she says, running a hand across her wrinkled neck. "I worked so hard to stay beautiful, but it's all gone so horribly wrong." She pinches the skin, pulling a lump away and dropping it to the floor. It looks like a blob of yellow-gray jelly. "I should have died a long time ago. Ever since the day Daddy tried to get me to kill the deer, I've known that I'm worthless, but... I couldn't end my life. I wanted to keep living, so I could play the piano and be beautiful."
"You can still do that," I say. She looks so pathetic and alone, I genuinely want to help her. "Whatever happens, I'll take you with me. I don't know where we'll go, or what we'll do, but you can come back and see the world I come from. I don't want to be alone either. We can get to know each other, and we can be friends. We can be real sisters. We'll find a place to live, we'll get a piano, you can be beautiful and you can play the piano and we'll both be okay." The thought of having a sister is pretty weird, especially when it's someone like Gwendoline, but in a strange way I kind of like the idea.
"I'm hideous," she says, her voice getting quieter.
"Don't talk like that. Come on, let's go and see our father."
Slowly, and cautiously, she takes my hand. Her skin feels cold and slimy, but I manage not to react as I lead her carefully out of the room.
"Can we go to a city?" she asks. "I've heard about cities. I want to see one."
"We'll go to New York," I tell her. "You won't believe how tall the buildings are. I've seen loads of videos about it. Oh, and you can try using the internet."
"What's that?" she asks, still holding my hand as we walk.
"It's this giant computer network. Most of it's pretty dodgy, but there's some good stuff on there. You can see pictures of the whole world. We can get some money and go traveling. If you really want to see cities, we'll go to London and Paris and Tokyo and everywhere."
She suddenly stops walking. "I can't," she says, staring straight ahead.
"Why not?" I ask.
She turns to me. "I'm scared."
"I'll be there with you," I tell her. Gently tugging her hand, I manage to persuade her to start walking again. We head along the corridor and through to the hallway. "Don't worry," I continue. "I'm kind of scared too. I don't exactly fit in anywhere, but it'll work out." To be honest, I'm still trying to understand how it's going to 'work out', seeing as Gwendoline looks like she's decomposing, but we'll come up with a plan. I guess she can wear a hat with a veil, and I'll tell people she's got some kind of skin condition.
At that moment, from elsewhere in the house, there's a scream. It sounds like a woman.
"He's going to kill us!" Gwendoline says, pulling away from me. I hold on tight to her hand, but she squirms as she tries to get loose. "Let go of me!" she shouts.
"It's okay," I say, my heart racing as I try to work out what's happening. "Just wait -" Seeing movement nearby, I turn to find Diana stumbling through from the next room, clutching a gaping wound in her neck. She moves her hand aside, to reveal two small puncture wounds.
"I gave him my life," she says, grabbing hold of the stair-rail to support herself, "so that he could live a little longer." She reaches out toward me. "You need him." A moment later, she falls to the floor. I stare down at her pale, dead body for a moment, before looking up and seeing Patrick in the doorway. There's blood around his mouth.
"You killed her," Gwendoline says, kneeling next to Diana's body.
"Why did you do that?" I ask, staring at Patrick.
He walks slowly toward us, as Gwendoline rolls Diana over and examines the wound. "Now I've got no-one," she says, looking up at me, tears rolling down her face. "Diana cared for me," she says.
"That wasn't right," I say, turning to Patrick. "You didn't have to do that." Suddenly I feel movement behind my back, and Gwendoline grabs my arm, pulling me against her body.
"Shall I kill something you love?" she shouts at Patrick, wrapping her arm around my neck.
"Let go of me," I say. I know I could easily get free at any moment, but I don't want to hurt my sister. "Gwendoline, don't do this. Just let go and we can talk."
Patrick steps toward us.
"If you come any closer," Gwendoline shouts, "I'll snap her neck like a twig."
"You'll just make him angry," I tell her as Patrick comes closer. "Don't do this, Gwendoline. You can't kill me!"
"It's not you I'm trying to kill," she whispers, before leaning closer and whispering in my ear. "Daddy's angry. Goodbye, sister." With that, she twists my neck. I feel the bones snap, and moments later I fall to the floor. The pain is intense, but I can already tell that my body is healing itself. I pause for a moment, before turning to see Patrick grab Gwendoline. He lifts her up and holds her in place, and she stares back down at him with a delirious smile on her face.
"Stop!" I shout. "She only hurt me so you'd -"
Suddenly Patrick throws Gwendoline across the room with such force that she smashes into the wall and parts of her putrid, decomposing body burst. She slides to the floor. Patrick walks across, looks down at her for a moment and then pushes the heel of his boot straight through her face, crushing her skull. Eventually, he turns back to look at me.
"Why did you do that?" I ask, getting to my feet.
He stares at me, as if the question makes no sense to him, as if I should just accept his barbarity.
"Are you going to kill me too?" I say, trying not to look scared.
He pauses, before shaking his head.
"Why not?" I ask. "Why am I so special? What's different about me?"
He doesn't respond. He just stands there, looking straight at me.
"If you'd shown her one moment of kindness in her life," I say, gulping back tears, "she might have been okay. Instead, you..." I look down as he lifts his boot; pieces of Gwendoline's face and brain are smeared across the floor. "You never showed her any love," I continue, looking away from my half-sister's body. Although I desperately want to hold back the tears, I feel my eyes watering. "You treated her like she was something to be discarded. You treated her like shit. Everything she became, everything she did, was because of you. Everyone..." I pause as I finally realize the truth about my father. "Everyone dies around you, don't they? You killed my mother. You killed my half-sister. You killed Diana. You're even killing yourself. It's just a series of deaths and it never ends. Everyon
e dies."
I feel him getting closer, and finally he reaches out his hand, as if he expects me to join him... as if somehow, after all of this, he thinks I'm going to blindly follow him.
"I can't be like you," I say, refusing to look him in the eye and ignoring his hand. "I can't use people to get what I want, and kill them when they disappoint me. Benjamin was right about you. You're incapable of love. You're just a monster. I don't know how much longer you've got left to live, but I don't want to see you again." Finally, I turn to face him. Tears are streaming down my face, but I don't care if he sees me crying. "Go back out there," I say. "Go back out there and die. I should never have brought you back inside. I should have left you out there. You'd be gone by now. You'd be dead, and the world would be a better place."
I turn and walk away. I have to get out of here, but there's only one person who might be able to help me. I check every room, determined to find Wormwood, and finally I spot him in the study, sitting with a book. I have no idea who he is, where he came from or why he's here, but right now I need him.
"Oh dear," he says, looking up at me. "Bad night? I hope you don't mind me saying that you -"
"Can you take me home?" I ask, almost shaking with anger. I don't dare to look back, in case Patrick is following me. I don't want to see his face.
"Home?" Wormwood pauses. "Well, yes, I suppose so -"
"Take me now," I say. "Please. Get me out of here. Get me away from him."
Wormwood stares at me for a moment, before closing the book and slowly standing up. He straightens his jacket before reaching out a hand. "Come on," he says. "Let's go. This is no place for a girl like you. Never was, really. Look up."
