by Bree Wolf
England, spring 1807 (or a variation thereof)
Three Years Later
Like a monster advancing, smoke curled out from under the closed door, reaching out its talons for her.
As though in a daze, Charlotte stood alone in the middle of the long corridor, eyes fixed on the nightmare slowly materialising before her. Could this be real? She wondered. How ought she to know?
Ever since…she couldn’t remember. Ever since when? It had been a long time since a clear thought had occupied her mind. All she could remember was the strange fog that hung about her, keeping her separate from the world around her, keeping her safe.
Inside the fog, it was dim and cushioned. There were no loud noises or bright lights. No pain or regret. Nothing. It was as though she were floating in water. There was nothing sharp or hard, but simply a liquid essence of life, carrying her wherever it chose.
Charlotte blinked as distant screams reached her ears. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, stumbling backwards until her back collided with the hard wall.
A touch of pain shot through her. It wasn’t much, but rather unexpected. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt pain.
An image of a moon-lit night flashed before her eyes. Then, there had been water, too. Cold water. Icy cold. It had threatened to engulf her, but someone had pulled her back to the surface.
Frederick.
A moan escaped her lips as a deep ache bit at her heart, and she almost toppled over. Sinking to the floor, Charlotte hugged her knees, willing away the memories that had left her at peace for so long.
With her head resting on her knees, she tried to fight down the rising panic, taking one long breath after the other.
Then she began to cough.
Lifting her head, Charlotte found herself not surrounded by fog…but by smoke. It stung her eyes and burned in her throat, tearing ragged coughs from within her. Her body convulsed, fighting the invading presence, forcing her out of the place in her mind where no pain existed.
Deep down, a part of her knew she couldn’t stay. If she did, she would be lost.
Get up! A familiar voice whispered, and her eyes went wide, searching up and down the corridor. Save yourself!
“Kenneth?” she asked, holding her sleeve before her mouth and nose. “Kenneth?”
For a moment, a short precious moment, Charlotte was certain that he had come for her, the way he always had.
But there was no one there.
Only smoke.
Get up or die! His voice snarled at her. It’s either or.
Pushing herself to her feet, Charlotte shook her head, trying to clear away the last remnants of the fog that dulled her senses. Where was she?
Winham Institute, her mind supplied.
Charlotte nodded. Yes, that sounded correct. But why was she here?
Then she shook her head. No, that question could wait until later.
Once more looking up and down the corridor, Charlotte realised that she was alone. That was strange. After all, she was never alone. Not when they allowed her out of her cell and took her to see Dr. Watkins. Someone was always with her lest she…
Again, screams reached her ears, mingling with frantic shouting and the incessant ringing of a bell.
Stumbling onward, Charlotte reached for each door on her way down the corridor, only to find them all locked. After a while, she realised that some of the loud noises drilling into her mind came from inside those rooms as though someone was banging on the door, screaming at the top of their lungs.
Were there people in there?
Again, the bell rang, its shrill sound a warning that echoed in her bones.
More coughing shook her body, and she stumbled farther down the corridor, eyes squinted against the smoke, but fixed on the door at the opposite side of the long hallway. Would it be locked, too?
Fear sneaked into her heart as her body fought to survive, pushing her onward. Then the door was within reach, and yet, Charlotte hesitated.
Right then and there, she still had hope. However, once she found the door to be locked, it would vanish, leaving her to die alone.
Am I not ready to die? She wondered.
While her mind and heart screamed in confirmation, her body refused to surrender, fighting for supremacy.
And finally as the smoke nearly took her sight, her hand reached out, slowly inch by inch, searching for the door handle. Finding it, she stood for a moment, uncertain what outcome to hope for.
Then her hand moved as though of its own accord,…and the door sprang open.
Shocked, unprepared for the new decisions that were now forced on her, Charlotte stood and watched as the smoke curled around her legs, reaching out its arms to claim the new space she had opened up to it.
Move! Kenneth’s voice snapped, and Charlotte flinched.
Taking a tentative step toward the back staircase, she glanced around, but there was no one there. Screams, however, echoed to her ears like a stampede, hammering at her eardrums with such force that she feared they would burst.
Step by step, Charlotte descended the stairs to the ground floor, then turned around a corner and came face to face with the real-life nightmare that had forced her out of her own. Through the window, she could see into the inner yard of the circular building, its right wing swallowed up by flames, stretching out their arms, hungering for more. Here and there, she saw people running, shouting to each other. Although Charlotte did not recognise them, she knew that very few of them were patients.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to ignore the screams of those trapped in their cells, unable to free themselves. Ought she to go back for them?
Get out now! Kenneth’s voice screamed above the roaring of the fire. Move!
Startled, Charlotte spun on her heel, relieved to leave the fire behind her, and started for the door and the freedom it promised. However, the moment her hand came down on the handle, luck abandoned her.
It was locked.
Instantly, panic rose, and Charlotte scanned her surroundings with frantic eyes. Was there another door she could try? Or were they all locked?
The window!
Charlotte’s head snapped up. Yes, she could smash the window. If only she had…
Glancing around, Charlotte’s eyes fell on a spindly looking chair, an abandoned walking stick…and then she saw the potted plant. Sitting in a ceramic pot, filled with dirt, it ought to have the needed weight to break through the glass.
Determined, Charlotte strode over, her hands reaching for the key to freedom.
Lifting it, she groaned. The inactivity of the past few weeks?…months?…years?…had robbed her of all the strength she’d once possessed.
Approaching the window, she stood sideways in the best angle for her to aim, took as deep a breath as she could without coughing her lungs out, and hurled the potted plant at the window.
The second the glass burst into a million pieces, her heart rejoiced.
Was she truly ready to die?
Scrambling through the window, Charlotte felt small shards dig into her hands and legs. As the blood ran down her skin, a memory of long ago resurfaced.
Once again, she saw Kenneth’s face before her, his kind, warm eyes looking into hers. “Marry me, and I swear I’ll protect you,” he’d said and he had meant it.
Lost in her past, Charlotte flinched when shouting reached her ears. Somewhere to her left, people were running about, arguing.
“We have to do something. They’re all going to die.”
“Do you truly want to go back in there? Don’t be an idiot!”
“But−?”
“Forget it! I’m not risking my life for those bedlamites!”
As the harsh world around her came knocking on the door to her soul, Charlotte shrank back. Receding little by little, her fog disappeared, leaving her vulnerable and burdened with a life she didn’t deserve. Why was she not locked in her cell, waiting for death? After all, no one deserved it more than her!
But
she wasn’t, and so the question remained: what now?
Taking a tentative step forward, Charlotte swallowed as she proceeded toward the angry shouting. Her skin crawled with the apprehension she felt at encountering the man who had spoken so harshly. But had he been wrong?
Confusion entered her mind, and Charlotte felt reminded of the struggle that had been her daily bread not too long ago. What was right or wrong? For a long time, she hadn’t been able to tell them apart, and she wasn’t certain if she ever would be able to again.
Stopping in her tracks, Charlotte inhaled deeply, and her body rejoiced as clean air filled its lungs. For a moment, she closed her eyes and then peeked around the corner.
As the flames began to devour more and more of the building, the doctors and orderlies stood on the front lawn, watching as the majority of their patients was trapped inside, with death waiting to claim them.
Even years later, Charlotte could not say what happened in that moment. But her feet refused to carry her any further. She knew she ought to. She knew she belonged there, not among decent people. And yet, she turned around and walked away.
Chapter Two – Life & Death
At what point she’d lost her shoes, Charlotte didn’t know. Stumbling through the underbrush of the dense forest surrounding Winham Institute, she simply kept walking as stones and twigs cut into her feet. It was an old, familiar kind of pain, and yet, a part of Charlotte felt as though she was experiencing it for the first time.
Every once in a while, a small voice would claim her attention. Unfortunately, it was not Kenneth. She hadn’t heard him since leaving the asylum’s grounds hours ago. No, this voice came from deep within her, incessantly asking a question she had stubbornly chosen to ignore: Where are you going?
As the sun began to set, she sighed, cursing the nagging voice. Finally, she decided to answer if only to silence it. However, her only response was, “Onward”.
What else was there? After all, she had nowhere to go. She had no family, no friends. She was dead to the world, and if she didn’t return, even her parents would believe the lie. They would finally be free of her and the scandal she had brought down upon them.
But even so, she had to go somewhere. If going back was not an option, then where?
“Onward,” Charlotte mumbled as her fingers trailed through the tall-stemmed grass, spreading out before her. Leaving behind the forest, she welcomed the day’s last rays of sunshine on her face, warming her chilled skin and bathing her in a glowing light that pained neither her eyes nor her soul.
After crossing the field, she looked around as the sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon. Night was falling fast, and soon, she would be blind, unable to see the ground in front of her. Her eyes began to droop as though suddenly realising how long she had gone without rest. As though objecting to being neglected, her stomach rumbled and churned, demanding to be fed.
But there was nothing. Nothing but the open land.
Sinking down onto a soft patch of ground, flanked by a bush with gentle leaves, Charlotte ripped out handfuls of stalks of the tall grass around her and used it as a pillow to bed her head.
The moment her eyes closed, her stomach ceased its protest and her body relaxed, abandoning all hold on reality and drifting off into a world where time had no meaning.
It was in that place that Kenneth came to her again.
With his warm, kind eyes looking into hers, he whispered promises she knew he’d never meant to break. But he had, and his loss had sent her down a path she could never undo. She had become a monster, allowed her own pain to change who she was, and there was no turning back.
When she awoke the next morning, Charlotte for a moment expected the white walls of her cell, the strange smell of confinement and the confused mumblings of others like her. Instead, she found a clear blue sky touching green pastures, all set aglow by a warming sun.
Never in her life had Charlotte seen anything so beautiful.
And it scared her.
How could she live in such a world? For years, all that she had known had been pain and loss, agony and regret. Was there even anything left of her old self? Or had her soul long since been consumed, eaten alive little by little ever since that one fateful night years ago?
Again, an image flashed before her eyes, and Charlotte cringed.
This man’s eyes were neither kind nor warm. Instead, they promised pain and humiliation. The sneer on his face told her that he cared for no one but himself, only for his own wants and desires. The memory sent a chill down her back and turned her stomach upside down.
Although filled with very little, it churned and rumbled, and a sickening sensation spread through her body. Drawing in ragged breaths, she could barely hold herself propped up on her elbows before it expelled its final contents.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Charlotte dragged her tired limbs away until the stench that assaulted her nostrils had finally vanished. Her eyes filled with tears, and she rolled over onto her belly and buried her face in her hands.
There she lay for a long time as her life slowly caught up with her.
Bit by bit, her memories returned and she wept for all that had happened, all that had been done to her and all that she had done to others. How could she blame Lord Northfield for his misconduct if she herself had done far worse?
Rolling onto her back, Charlotte closed her eyes, hoping to give her mind a moment of peace. However, the second she did, she found herself looking at Kenneth once again, Kenneth and his smiling eyes and his heart of gold. She also saw the disappointed look on her father’s face as he had shaken his head at her for what she had done. She saw Frederick’s solemn eyes as he had gulped down one drink after another. And then she saw Leopold on the floor, writhing in pain, his wife’s sobs filling the air as she watched her husband die.
Charlotte knew that she had crossed a line, that there was no coming back from such a heinous deed. Then what ought she to do now?
For a moment, she thought to simply lie there in the early morning sun and wait for death to claim her. However, her body instantly protested. Her mouth felt dry, and her stomach churned. Her eyes burned, and her throat was parched. Her limbs ached, and her head throbbed. And yet, it was her heart that hurt the most.
Where had all this pain suddenly come from? Charlotte wondered. How had she not felt it before?
Lying still, Charlotte tried to calm her frantic thoughts, and before long, a soft sound reached her ears. It had probably been with her throughout the night, only her mind had been too occupied to hear it.
Pushing herself up, Charlotte began to crawl through the tall-stemmed grass until she reached another side of the field that led down into a sparkling green valley, here and there dotted with groves. Hesitantly, she stood up, her knees wobbly, and scanned the land before her.
There, not too far away, a small stream trickled through the ocean of grass.
Licking her cracked lips, Charlotte strode forward as fast as her body allowed.
When she finally reached the small bank, she almost dropped to the ground, her hands eagerly reaching for the nourishing liquid. Scooping it up with her cupped hand, she forced herself to drink slowly, aware of her stomach’s delicate state.
It felt heavenly.
After drinking her fill, Charlotte sat down in the shade of a large oak tree, resting her back against its huge trunk. The world around her looked so beautiful, and yet,−
No!
Shaking her head, Charlotte forced the thoughts away. Kenneth had been right. She had to make a choice. Live or die? For a reason she couldn’t name, maybe simply an innate desire to survive, she hadn’t been able to choose death. Therefore, her only choice was to live, and if she had to live, then she couldn’t entertain these thoughts. She had to lock them away and only think about what her body needed to stay alive.
Everything else didn’t matter.
Food! Her stomach screamed.
Craning her neck, Charlotte le
t her eyes sweep across the land. Maybe she ought to follow the stream. Then at least, she would have water and maybe find some berries growing in close proximity.
With her mind made up, Charlotte forced herself back on her feet and continued onward.
At some point in the afternoon, she finally came upon a bush that held a few red berries that she’d seen before. However, in that moment, their name eluded her. Once more forcing herself not to rush, she picked as many as she could, sat down by the stream and slowly ate one. Then another. And another.
At night, she once more curled up on the ground near a bush with soft twigs and leaves. In the morning, she woke up chilled as the temperature seemed to have dropped that night. However, as soon as the sun came up and she began to walk, her body warmed up.
For days, Charlotte simply continued onward, following the stream, eating what she found. Her mind remained detached from the past, only focused on what to do next. Her limbs, however, grew more and more slack with each day. Sometimes the lack of food made her dizzy, forcing her to sit or lie down.
After what seemed like an eternity had passed since she had left the asylum, Charlotte came over a small hill and spotted a grand house in the distance.
The reminder of civilisation, of people hit her with such force, that her knees gave in and she sank down. Hitting her head on a small rock, she sagged into herself before rolling down the hill.
Bruised and exhausted, Charlotte tried to open her eyes, but the effort was too much. Her mind protested, forcing them closed, and abandoned all thought.
Chapter Three – A Brother’s Love
With anger in his heart, Sebastian Campbell, only son to the Earl of Weston, urged his horse onward. Clinging to the back of his chestnut gelding, he gritted his teeth as the blood boiled in his veins. For a moment, he closed his eyes, but not even that allowed him to shake the image of his sister’s face, pain and misery edged into her beautiful eyes.
Cursing under his breath, he guided his mount down the slope and toward his father’s estate, Hartridge Hall. When he finally reached the front stoop, he jumped to the ground, not bothering to toss the reigns to the stable boy who came running toward him. Instead, he climbed the few steps in a single bound and threw open the door before the footmen even had a chance to reach for the handles.
