Broken White: The Complete Series

by Amy Cross

  "You're quite right," she replies, placing the larger box back into the cabinet. "I'm sorry," she continues. "It's just that I've been around the game for so long, and I never thought that I'd end up being part of its destruction. I revered these items for so many years, and I truly believed that I would never live to see the prize revealed. Now, though, I realize that I have no choice but to become the instrument of its destruction. So much pain and fear has emanated from this place, destroying the lives of hundreds of men and women. Now it's going to end, and we must be grateful that lives will be spared in years to come".

  Looking down at the box, I see that there's a small clasp on one side. Cautiously, I turn the box and reach out to open the clasp.

  "No," Henrietta says suddenly, placing her hand on the box. "We shall not look. It might be a trap. Perhaps I'm superstitious, but I'd rather not risk anything". Reaching into her pocket, she produces a bottle of clear liquid and a set of matches. "We shall simply destroy it," she continues. "That way, its physical form will be destroyed and the very idea of its existence will be lost forever. I would rather not remember its form, since that might be a way for it to -"

  Suddenly I feel a vibration in my hand, and to my surprise the box seems to leap out of my grasp, landing with a thud on the ground nearby.

  "It felt -" I start to say.

  With a faint bumping sound, the box shifts a few inches across the ground, as if something inside is attempting to move away from us.

  "Leave it," Henrietta says, opening the top of the bottle. "There's nowhere for it to go".

  "But what is it?" I ask, watching as she approaches the box, which is still bumping along the ground. "What's inside that thing?"

  "We will never know," she replies, pouring the contents of the bottle over the box. Moments later, there's a strong stench of alcohol, and I realize that she means to incinerate the entire object. "Whatever this thing is," she says, lighting a match, "it must end here. No more horror. No more fear. Just the end of the game. Forever". With that, she drops the match and the box is engulfed by flames.

  Elly

  Today

  "I'm only going to say this once," Mark tells me firmly as he sits by my hospital bed, "and you have to believe me. It's the truth. I have no idea where your friend Jess has gone. The last time I saw her, she was leaving the apartment. It was the same night that you were there. After that, I don't know where she went. To be honest, I never even gave her a second thought. I just felt that it was an awkward situation that as best left to settle".

  Staring at him, I try to work out whether he's telling the truth. I want to believe him, and he seems convincing, but at the same time I feel as if I've been fooled too many times before. It's not hard to see how Mark could have had plenty of practice at lying over the years, and I'm aware that I've maybe been a little naive. I've more or less accepted everything he's told me, and I've ignored the lingering doubts at the back of my mind. Right now, however, I feel as if only the truth will be good enough, and as I look into his eyes, I realize I can no longer trust my own perception. The more he seems to be telling the truth, the more I worry that I'm being tricked.

  "If she's missing," he continues, "you need to alert the police. I'm serious. I have no idea what could have happened to her, but if she's genuinely vanished, it's your duty as a friend to do something. Granted, she might just be keeping a low profile after everything that happened, but you need to think of her safety. The police -"

  "Don't worry," I reply firmly. "You're lucky I haven't called them already".

  "Elly..." He pauses, and I can see the anguish in his eyes. The problem is, I have no idea whether it's genuine.

  We sit in silence for a moment.

  "Tell me about Chrissie," I say eventually.

  "We've been over this -"

  "She went missing, right?" I stare at him. "It seems to me, Mark, that people have a tendency to vanish after they've been with you. I'd be an idiot not to be worried, wouldn't I?"

  "I'm not a killer," he replies.

  "How do I know that?"

  "Because you know me". He places a hand on my leg, but he pulls it away again as soon as he sees me flinch. "I'm sorry, Elly, but I thought you had a better handle on me than that. Yes, I live an unusual life, but do you really think I go around killing people?" He waits for me to answer. "I don't know what happened to Chrissie. She was never really a very important person in my life. We just dated for a while. She was part of the game, but I knew from the beginning that she wasn't going to make it. She was just a distraction, someone to fill the time before I met you".

  "That's very flattering," I reply darkly.

  "I save your life," he replies.

  We sit in silence.

  "After your heart attack," he continues eventually, "Mr. White wanted to abandon you. He thought it was too dangerous to let you come to hospital for treatment. He said there'd be too many questions, and he felt that you'd break". He stares at me for a moment. "Are you going to break, Elly? You don't look broken to me. Not yet. Then again, maybe I'm biased".

  "Define broken," I reply, holding back the tears that are welling up behind my eyes.

  "Are you going to leave the game?" he asks. "Are you going to decide that enough's enough?"

  "I had a heart attack," I point out.

  "So?"

  I stare at him. "So?" I reply eventually. "What does that mean?"

  "It means that you were warned in advance that the game would push you to your limits".

  "No-one said anything about..." I pause, realizing that in some kind of sick and twisted way, Mark and the others seem to be folding my health problems into the game. "Does this happen often?" I ask eventually, my voice trembling a little. "Have other girls had heart attacks as part of the game?"

  He shakes his head.

  "So I'm the only weak one?"

  "Not necessarily. If you keep going, if you stay in the game regardless, you might turn out to be the strongest one yet". He waits for me to reply. "Despite Mr. White's desire to let you die, Lady Red agreed with me. She feels you could still turn out to be a very strong player. She's concerned about you, and she understands that you're at a crossroads, but she thinks your potential remains in place. She's very keen to find out what you decide to do. I've never seen her show so much faith in someone before. It's quite unusual".

  I take a deep breath. "And what about you?" I ask eventually.

  "What about me?"

  "Are you concerned about me?" I continue, looking for any sign of genuine emotion in his eyes.

  He nods.

  "As part of the game, or as part of real life?"

  "Elly, I love you".

  I open my mouth to reply, and that's when the force of his words hit me. Feeling my hands starting to shake, I slip them under the bed-sheets.

  "Did you hear me?" he continues.

  I nod.

  "In case you're wondering," he continues, "this is most definitely not part of the game. In fact, it's antithetical to the whole idea of the game, but..." He pauses, as if he's waiting for a certain kind of reaction. "Does it surprise you?"

  "Does what surprise me?" I ask, desperately playing for time as I try to work out how I should be responding.

  "That I've fallen in love with you?"

  I stare at him.

  "I love you," he says again.

  "I'm not sure if I believe you," I reply.

  "Then let me prove it to you".

  I look over at the door. It's been a long time since any nurses came to check on me, almost as if Mark had them sent away.

  "I know there's only one way I can prove it to you," Mark continues, "and that's by ending everything else. The game has run too long. It needs to stop".

  "What do you mean?" I ask.

  "I mean that the whole thing is..." He pauses. "Since I met you, Elly, I've come to realize that the game is a mess. It's a nightmare. As Mr. Blue, I'm supposed to be pushing for you to go further and further, but the truth is, I
just want to get you out of the whole thing. I want out too. I want to take you away and live a normal life with you. I never thought I'd say anything like that, but..." He looks over his shoulder, as if he's making sure that no-one can overhear us.

  I bite my bottom lip. What the hell am I supposed to say to all of this?

  "If I can prove to you that Jess is okay," he continues, turning back to me, "and that I had nothing to do with Chrissie's disappearance, then..." He pauses again. "If I prove to you that you can trust me, will you come away with me? Will you marry me?"

  I swallow hard.

  "Let me try that again," he says awkwardly, with an embarrassed smile. Getting off his chair, he kneels by my bed. "Elly Bradshaw," he continues, staring into my eyes, "will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He waits for a response. "Assuming I can make you trust me, that is". After a moment, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small silver ring. "I almost forgot," he adds, holding the ring out to me. "This belonged to my grandmother. I never thought I'd find someone to give it to, but I guess we're both full of surprises right now".

  Staring at the ring, I try to work out how to respond. The truth is, my mind seems to have become completely blank, and the only thought I can muster is the one that's wondering why I'm not replying to him yet.

  "I won't be offended," he continues as he gets back to his feet, "if you need to take some time to think about this. I know it's a lot to consider, and perhaps it hasn't come at the right time. I should have asked you sooner. I wanted to ask you sooner, but other things got in the way".

  I stare at him, trying to work out whether his proposal is part of the game. There's something different about him today, as if some of his layers have fallen away. Then again, I'm wary of allowing my naivety to blind me to the truth. Everything I've experienced with Mark, everything I know about him, tells me I shouldn't trust his word. This proposal, and the declaration of love that came with it, could easily be the latest attempt to manipulate me. At the same time, I can't just walk away.

  "I've got an idea," he continues. "Dr. Abernathy says you can leave the hospital tomorrow. That being the case, I'd like to take you out to dinner. Nothing too strenuous. No alcohol. Just the two of us, going to dinner. Think of it as a chance to reconnect. Think of it as an opportunity to experience one another with no filters and no games. Meanwhile, I'll work on arranging our exit from the game. It's not going to be easy, but I think I've got a few ideas linked up. It can be done. I'll also see if I can use some of my contacts to locate your friend Jess, and maybe even Chrissie. I should have done it before, but I didn't realize..." He pauses. "Well, I didn't realize you didn't believe me, but it's okay, I'm sure I can track at least one of them down. Do we have a deal?"

  I try to decide what to say.

  "Do we at least have a date?"

  After a moment, I nod.

  "You won't regret it," he says, leaning closer. He seems set to kiss me on the lips, but at the last moment he changes his mind and kisses the side of my neck instead. "I realize I have to prove myself to you," he whispers, his lips just an inch from my skin. "I'll go to the ends of the earth if necessary. I'll do anything. Just, please, give me one more chance".

  "We'll go to dinner tomorrow night," I reply, my voice sounding surprisingly frail and weak. "After that, we'll..." I pause. "We'll see what happens". I pause again, my mind still feeling completely blank. "Do you mind if I take a nap?" I ask eventually. "I'm tired".

  "That's fine," he says, taking a step back. "I should get going anyway. Dr. Abernathy said you need some rest, so..." He waits for me to reply. "I'll come back tomorrow," he continues, "and we'll go and get something to eat, and we can talk about the future".

  I nod.

  Once he's gone, I find myself just staring into space, unable to process everything that happened. I fully expected to have a confrontation with Mark, to tell him I don't want to be part of his games any more, but it never occurred to me that he'd tell me he loves me, let alone that he'd ask me to marry him or that he'd suggest that we abandon the game. It's as if he's trying to pull away from his whole life and start something new. Then again, I'm convinced that naivety has been my biggest failing so far, and now I'm scared to let my defenses down. Looking down at the bedsheets, I see that Mark has left the silver ring. My first instinct is to pick it up and take a look, but at the last moment I realize I'm scared.

  Using a tissue, in order to avoid directly touching it, I move the ring over to the table by my bed, and then I roll onto my side. Tears are starting to fall down my cheeks, and I swear to God, I have no idea what I'm going to do next.

  Jonathan Pope

  1901

  "It screams," I say, staring at the burning box as a faint cry of pain seems to be emanating from within the wood. "How can it scream? How can an inanimate object suffer?"

  "Don't ask questions," Henrietta replies, her eyes fixed on the box. From the look in her eyes, one would think that we were staring not at a simple box but at some kind of religious artifact. "If we knew what was in there, it might be able to crawl into our minds and find a place to live, and there might be a chance for it to one day return. It could persist even as pure knowledge".

  "I never thought..." Taking a step back, I watch as the flames continue to burn, showing no sign of abating. "When you spoke of the game as a living thing, I never for one second believed that it might possibly be an actual creature. Surely there is nothing that could live for so many years in so small a space? Could it not be some kind of trick? A clockwork device?"

  "Perhaps".

  "Or a child's toy?"

  "Perhaps".

  Staring at her, I realize that she believes neither of these explanations. She has clearly fallen for the idea that the box contains something living, and that this creature is itself part of the game's heart.

  "Don't look at me like that," she says after a moment. "Whatever you think, I don't want to hear it. I'm sorry, Jonathan, but although I've tried to explain the game to you, I'm afraid you can never know the truth about..." She pauses, as if the words are too much for her to handle. "Mere words cannot convey the horrors of the things that I've seen. As Lady Red, I was instrumental in the running of the game. I spoke with... I spoke with the heart of the game. I saw its face. I'm trying to forget, but it persists behind my eyes. Sometimes I feel its presence, pushing on my mind, reminding me that it's there. I can only hope that its death will be final and complete".

  "This is madness!" I reply, starting to fear for her sanity. "Someone has been playing a terrible joke on us both! How can you possibly believe such things? I always took you for a rational, intelligent woman -"

  "Think what you want," she replies, interrupting me. "I'm quite certain that whatever was in that box, it was in control of everything. Now that it's dead, the game itself is over". With tears in her eyes, she turns to me. "Do you understand, my darling? The game is finished. We did it! We found its heart and we burned it until there was nothing left. I was the twelfth Lady Red, and you were the nineteenth Mr. Blue. Harrison Blake was the ninth Mr. White. We were each of us the last of our kind. We outlasted the game itself, and now there's nothing left".

  Looking down at the ground, I see that the flames are finally starting to die down, and all that remains is a pile of ash. Whatever was inside the box, it has certainly been incinerated. Nothing could survive such heat.

  "It's almost sad," Henrietta says. "The game was so old, one is tempted to mourn its passing. After all, I'm sure it had a noble purpose once, before greed and corruption took hold. I'm quite certain that Benjamin Edgewood wanted the game to be something that would contribute to the good of mankind. Sadly, whatever was in that box, it mutated over the years, becoming something darker and more foul. Something evil. Fortunately, one does not always need to look directly into the face of evil in order to kill it". Stepping toward the box, she kicks the ashes, revealing that the contents of the box, like the box itself, have been destroyed.

  "On
e can still have nostalgia for the things one hates," she says quietly. "For evil, cruel things. One can still miss them, in a way, especially if they carved out a place in our lives. For better or for worse, this creature was a part of my existence for a very long time. I can't simply pretend that I never encountered it, or that it hasn't left a gap in my soul". She pauses again. "Sometimes, one does things that seem so right at the time, and yet later one can see that a terrible mistake has been made. A terrible, ungrateful mistake that has ruined everything".

  "And now we run?" I ask.

  "Soon," she replies, staring at the remains.

  "But why would we wait?" I continue. "We've done what we came to do. We've achieved the impossible, so now let's get out of here before..."

  We stand in silence for a moment.

  "Before what?" Henrietta asks, with a curiously detached tone to her voice. Slowly, she turns to me. "What do you think might happen if we just stay here for a while? Do you not understand that the game itself is now dead?" Narrowing her eyes, she seems for a moment to regard me with something approaching hatred. "It's easy for you. How long have you been mixed up in all of this? Five, six years? I've been a part of the game for decades. It fed me. It taught me. It made me who I am, and now..."

  "We must go!" I say again.

  "Wait," she mutters, before kneeling on the cold ground and reaching down to scoop up the ash. "What have I done?" She stares at the ash as it falls between her fingers. "What kind of weakness drove me to this point? How did I allow myself to do something so stupid? Did I love..." She pauses, and finally she turns to me with a wild look in her eyes. "I love you," she says after a moment.

  "And I love you," I reply, "but -"

  "No!" she shouts. "I love you! Don't you get it? I love you! I... It's a mistake! It's a terrible, horrible mistake. I should never have..."

  "Henrietta," I say, stepping toward her and reaching out a hand, "be reasonable -"