Broken White: The Complete Series

by Amy Cross

"No!" she screams, getting to her feet and hurrying away from me. "Don't touch me!"

  I watch as she stops over by the far wall. After a moment, I realize that she has begun to sob.

  "Henrietta," I say, trying to stay calm. "My dear. You must come with me. As you said yourself, we need to get away from this place. We've done what we came here to do, and now we need to go far away. If not for our sake, then for the sake of our child -"

  "This child has ruined us," she spits back at me. "If it wasn't for the child, I should never have become so weak. All my life, I've fought to be as strong as everyone else, and yet eventually my own body betrayed me". She looks down with disgust at her own belly. "There's only one thing I can do to atone for my sins," she mutters, before hurrying over to the cabinet. After rifling through the drawers for a few seconds, she eventually pulls out a small silver dagger. "This child can't live! A child born of shame can't be allowed to -"

  "Stop this!" I shout, managing to grab the knife from her hand. "You're losing your mind!" I tell her, taking hold of her by the shoulders and giving her a shake. "You're a strong woman, Henrietta, but you still are a woman, and you have a baby in your belly! You need to rest. These foolish ideas will leave your mind once you've had a chance to relax. Let yourself -"

  "You don't understand," she sneers, as if she considers me to be beneath contempt. "The game was my life, and now I've thrown it away. For what? For you? I should have had you killed the moment I set eyes on you. Instead, I allowed myself to be seduced into this terrible mistake". Holding her hands up, she seems mesmerized by the remains of the ash. "I destroyed the game," she continues. "For almost two centuries it stayed safe, and I'm the one who made the mistakes that brought it crashing down! It was all I had! It was all that I was, and all that I can ever be!"

  "We're getting out of here," I say, grabbing her arm and trying to force her back toward the door.

  "No!" she screams, digging her nails into my flesh as she tries to push me away.

  "Stop!" I shout, putting my arms around her and trying to force her to calm down. "You're losing your mind! You must calm down! If you keep struggling like this, you might hurt our child! You just..." After a moment, I realize that she's stopped struggling and has started, instead, to sob. I slowly lower her to the ground and she collapses in a crumpled heap, wailing with fear. In all my life, I have never seen a human being reduced to such a horrific state.

  Taking a step back, I try to decide what I should do next. It's clear that Henrietta is not merely upset; she has descended into a full nervous breakdown, and all I can do is stand and stare. Deep in the pit of my stomach, I have a horrible feeling that she might never be able to recover from this anguish.

  Elly

  Today

  "Any type of stress should be avoided," Dr. Abernathy explains the next day as I sit in his office. "Physical stress, obviously, but also emotional stress. You need to give your body time to recover, which means total rest. I can't emphasize this point enough, Elly. I know you might want to prove something by pushing yourself, but you could do lasting damage. Just accept your limitations for a while, and focus on improving your lifestyle".

  I smile uneasily. The truth is, I don't feel remotely ready to leave the hospital yet, but all my tests have turned out well and Dr. Abernathy says there's no reason to keep me in any longer. He's prescribed a bunch of pills for me, and I have to come back every two weeks for a check-up, but basically it seems that my heart attack was fairly mild and, as a result, I'm off the danger list. I never thought I'd feel this way, but I'd honestly prefer to stay on the ward for a while longer, just in case. In the back of my mind, I'm worried that I might have another attack, and I doubt I can avoid stress for too long.

  "Do you have someone coming to pick you up?" he asks.

  I nod.

  "Parents? Partner?"

  "Partner," I say, although the word immediately sounds strange coming from my lips. "Fiance, actually," I add, which is even stranger. I guess I just want to explore the feeling of being engaged before I decide whether or not to commit to Mark's offer. I'm still feeling kind of uneasy about the whole situation, and I haven't decided what to do. Still, despite all my misgivings, I know that deep down I'm excited by the prospect of having a normal, happy life with Mark. I want to be his wife, and I want to be part of his life. I just need to make sure that he's telling the truth about his feelings, because I've learned that the game can twist even the most straightforward of sentiments.

  "I didn't realize you were engaged," Dr. Abernathy replies. "Congratulations".

  "So..." I pause, not really sure what I'm supposed to say next. "I mean, I can go, right? Are you sure it's okay? If you need me to stay -"

  "No, you'll be fine," he continues. "I'm sure your fiance will look after you. Make sure he understands that he's got to be at your beck and call for the next few days, okay? Don't feel bad about treating him like he's a servant. Let him do all the cooking and cleaning for a while". He smiles. "He seems like a nice guy. I'm sure he'll look after you".

  "Yeah," I say awkwardly, just as there's a knock at the door.

  Moments later, Mark enters the room. He has a look on his face that I've never seen before, as if he's actually kind of nervous. I swear to God, it's actually cute to see him standing there and looking uncomfortable.

  "Is everything okay?" he asks.

  "Everything's fine," Dr. Abernathy says, getting to his feet and walking over to shake Mark's hand. "I was just telling Elly that as long as she looks after herself, she's not going to have any more problems. Unfortunately for you, that means she'll need some bed-rest, and a lot of looking after. I'm afraid you're going to be run off your feet. This woman needs breakfast in bed, and long hot baths, and a total lack of stress".

  "That's fine," Mark says a little stiffly. "I'll make sure she's okay".

  "You'd better," Dr. Abernathy continues. "The last thing I want is to have her wheeled back in here with another heart attack. We're through the most dangerous phase, but you both need to be aware that there's a continued risk. If it's happened once, it can most certainly happen again. You need to make sure your fiance is able to relax".

  Mark stares at me, with a hint of a smile on his lips.

  "We should go," I say quickly, grabbing my bag of medicine and heading to the door. "I guess -"

  "I'll take her to my apartment," Mark says suddenly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You'll be okay there. I've got everything laid out and ready. We won't be disturbed".

  I smile awkwardly.

  "And remember to call me if you have any questions," Dr. Abernathy says as he leads us out of the office and along the corridor. "It's better to ask too often than not enough, if you see what I mean. Elly, if you have any pains in your chest at all, or in your left arm, you must come and see me immediately. Don't be worried about wasting my time. You can't afford to take any risks, and whatever you do, don't neglect to take your pills. They're going to help stabilize your body for a while. Without them, you're dramatically increasing your chances of experiencing another episode. The last thing your body can handle right now is another heart attack. I don't want you to be under any illusions, Elly. You're not out of the woods yet. There's still a fair way to go before everything's back to normal".

  Once we've said our goodbyes and Dr. Abernathy has gone to deal with his other patients, I'm left standing in the elevator with Mark, making our way down toward the hospital parking lot. There's a strange, awkward kind of silence between us, and I feel as if things could go either way. I might end up kissing him and telling him that I love him, or I might end up running away and never seeing him again. Whenever I lean toward one course of action, I feel myself drawn to the other. I wish I could tear myself in half, and one side of me could stay while the other could run.

  "So you're feeling better?" he asks eventually.

  I nod.

  "You look better," he adds. "Yesterday, you seemed a little off-color, but today..." He pauses. "Well, you
look better. You look more like yourself. It's good to see. I was thinking we should maybe postpone dinner if -"

  "No," I say quickly, keen to make sure that we get out of the apartment tonight. I need a distraction, and the thought of being cooped up in that penthouse with Mark is kind of terrifying. "I'm not an invalid," I continue. "I won't drink, and we won't stay out late, but I'd still like to do something, if that's okay". I pause. "Life has to carry on as normal. I'm not disabled. I just had a..." My voice trails off before I can get the words 'heart attack' out of my mouth. It's still kind of strange to consider what happened to me, and I've already decided that no-one else needs to know. I definitely won't be telling my mother or Jess.

  "I'm sorry if I was a little too forward yesterday," he replies. "I think that maybe my timing was off".

  "It's fine," I reply as the elevator doors open and we step out into the car park. "Your timing was fine".

  "Just so you know," he continues, leading me over toward his car, "there's no deadline. You can take as long as you want to make your decision, and I won't pressure you. I won't be offended, either. It's a big choice, and I'd rather you take all the time you need". He smiles weakly, but I can tell that he's putting on a brave face. He must have noticed that I didn't reciprocate after he told me he loved me, and although my defenses are still up, I feel as if I'm finally seeing the real Mark. Then again, there's always the nagging doubt at the back of my mind, reminding me that I can't really trust my senses. No matter how sincere Mark seems, it could still be part of the game.

  "Thanks," I mutter, aware that I haven't really given him any kind of proper response yet.

  "About the other thing," he continues as he unlocks his car. "I've begun to set the ball rolling. I've been preparing for this moment, and I don't see why it can't be done. We're going to get out of the game. The problem is, the only way out of the game is to win, so I've had to come up with another solution. I'm going to destroy it all. I'm going to do something that no-one else has ever managed before".

  I stare at him, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

  "It's not a good thing," he adds. "The game destroys lives. It's an anachronism, and it should have ended years ago. You've got no idea how many people have been hurt, but it's time for it to end. I've got everything I need. There's still some work to do, but this time tomorrow, we're going to be free forever".

  "You're going to destroy the game?" I ask. "What about Mr. White and Lady Red?"

  He pauses for a moment. "They won't accept my decision," he continues eventually, "so I'm afraid they'll have to make their own choices. One thing's certain, though. The game's going to end. If they choose to go down with it, that's their problem, but we're going to be free. I promise, Elly. We're going to start a whole new life".

  I want to believe him, but as I get into the car, I find myself wondering whether he can really do what he claims. Although he seems confident, I can't help thinking that perhaps he's over-stretching himself. Then again, I'm not even sure I can believe him. I have so many doubts about Mark, it's insane that I'm even sitting in this car with him. Whatever happens next, I figure I need to keep my guard up. I've made so many bad decisions lately, and I'm starting to feel that I need to find some way to escape.

  Jonathan Pope

  1901

  "She's resting," John the Pig says as he pulls the door shut and joins me in the corridor. "She's burning up, though. She's got as high a fever as I've ever seen, and I have no idea why. It's as if something's burning in her soul". He pauses to let out a long, foul-smelling burp. "Of course, I've only worked on men before. Never touched a woman. For all I know, this might be normal for her type. I mean, don't women tend to get a bit worked up about stuff? Maybe it's her time of the month".

  "This isn't normal," I reply firmly. "She's in real danger. Tell me about the child. Is it healthy?"

  "It's alive," he says. "That's about as much as I can tell. There's a distinct heartbeat, and I felt it moving under her skin a few times. Do you happen to know how far along she might be?"

  I shake my head.

  "We could always try cutting it out of her. I know it's a bit drastic, but I heard you can do it sometimes. You just cut the belly open, reach in and pull the thing out. Granted, it's a rather shocking approach, but I reckon the Devil sometimes gives us few choices".

  "No," I say. "She'd die, and so would the child. It's too soon".

  "But it'd be an interesting experiment," he replies. "I mean, if you ask me, she's going to die anyway, which means the kid's got no chance. If you let me do a little cutting here and there, I might be able to save one of them, and even if I can't, I'll know better for the next time I have to deal with such a thing. I mean, the best way to learn is to get stuck in, right? Dig around a bit, see what's connected to what, that kind of thing. It's so much easier to learn from a real live body rather than a corpse, you know".

  "You won't be cutting her up," I say firmly. "Whatever's wrong with her, it's not caused by the child. It's caused by something else. Emotional distress, perhaps. You have no idea what has been happening to her of late".

  "Emotional distress?" he replies, frowning. "What's that?"

  "It's in her mind".

  "Oh". He pauses. "I don't really do that kind of medicine. I'm more into cutting things up and sticking them back together. I know it's fashionable to talk about mental problems, but I don't reckon there's anything to it. People just need to get on with stuff, that's all. A bit of fortitude never hurt anyone".

  "Henrietta has been through a great deal of turmoil," I tell him. "She's not like us. She has a breaking point, and I'm afraid she's reached it. She had to do something that caused her a lot of pain, and I'm not certain she'll ever be able to recover". I pause for a moment. "She destroyed something that was precious to her. It was the right thing to do, but she was overcome by a feeling of immense guilt. She broke down, and I don't know if she'll ever recover".

  Shrugging, John the Pig walks through to the bathroom and starts washing his hands. Frankly, I don't know why he bothers. Even up here in the living quarters, the King's Arms is a squalid and disgusting place, and I'm quite certain that by bringing Henrietta here I must be exposing her to all manner of new dangers. Then again, I have no choice: I'm still wanted by the police for the murder of Henrietta's husband, and I can't risk another trip to the gallows. Bringing Henrietta to the King's Arms was a desperate measure, but I've reached the point of desperation and right now I have no idea what to do next. It's not as if I can leave her here, but it'll take a number of months before the child is born, and even then she won't be able to move immediately. There's also the matter of her sanity, which I fear might be lost forever.

  "Women are more trouble than they're worth," John the Pig mutters as he dries his hands. "I swear to God, they have limited uses, and even then there's not much a woman can do that a man can't replicate by himself. Apart from conceiving a child, of course, but then I've never really seen the point of such a thing. Why should a man want to bring more poor fools into the world? You walk down to the river, you'll see kids dying in the mud. There's no point adding to the problem". He pauses for a moment, eying me suspiciously. "So do you want me to see what I can do?"

  "I don't have much money," I reply. "Everything has been wiped out. All I have is..." I pause as I realize that it's all gone. "I have nothing," I say eventually, shocked at my own downfall.

  "You can pay me in other ways. You're not averse to killing a man from time to time, are you? I've got plenty of enemies, and sometimes they turn up and try to put the pressure on me. With a man like you on my side, I could maybe scare them off a little more easily. Of course, you might have to smash a few skulls together from time to time and get rid of some bodies, but I'm sure none of that is exactly new to you, is it?"

  "I'll do whatever it takes," I tell him. "You're right when you consider me to be an amoral man. If you need a man killed, I'll gladly do it. If it means that Henrietta and the child might survive,
I'll do anything".

  "There's one important question," he adds. "You might not like it, but I've got to ask. If it comes down to it, and if I've got to make the choice between one of them or the other, which should I save?" He waits for me to answer. "Should I save the woman and let the child die, or should I save the child and let the woman die? If I have the choice, that is".

  "I..." Pausing, I try to work out what to say. "Save the child," I reply eventually. "The child is innocent. The child's mind is free from the torment that afflicts Henrietta. You must try to save them both, but if a choice must be made, the child's life should be prioritized". Even as the words leave my mouth, I'm overcome by a sense of profound shame, as if I've just betrayed Henrietta. Still, I can only hope that she would understand my decision. After all, she said herself that the child's life is of more importance than either hers or mine.

  "I think I've got a book somewhere," John the Pig replies, shuffling past me. "It's got a chapter on women's bits. I should probably read up. I don't mind telling you, when I lifted her skirt just now, I got a right shock. I need to check if she's normal down there, or if she's some kind of mutant. There were all these flaps. I never knew it could be so fucking messy".

  "She's a woman," I reply. "Nothing more, nothing less".

  Once John the Pig has headed downstairs, I make my way to Henrietta's room. Laid out on the makeshift bed, she's gripped in the jaws of a powerful fever. Sweat is running across her face and down onto her chest, and although she wails and moans, she shows no indication that she understands where she is, or even who I am. I lean down and kiss the side of her face, but she merely lets out a gasp of pain. Clutching her belly, she rolls onto her side and squeezes her eyes tight shut. It pains me to acknowledge the truth, but I can't shake the feeling that no-one could ever recover from such a terrible state.

  "Good night, my darling," I whisper, before heading back over to the door. I take one final glance back into the room before stepping out into the corridor. We might be free of the game, but it's clear that she's now in the grip of a powerful illness. I hope that the child might survive, but I fear my dear Henrietta might be lost forever.