The Twelve Chimes of Maligna Manor

A Prisoner's Dilemma in the Study

A sharp slap to the face brought Meek back around. He looked up at Sara, glaring down at him. Oh, it was a horrid look. It was not just the disgust but the betrayal that was in those eyes. Her eyes.

How had he not seen it? Ben was close to Ricki's double, and Whilst Sara's resemblance to her aunt was confined mostly to the eyes and the turn of her nose, it all was Meek could see.

They had called Ricki their dad. Had it really been that long?

"Get up," Sara snapped, "We have to go."

Meek found his eyes beginning to water as he took in Sara's face. He soon had to cast them down.

Sara's face was quickly overtaken by another. A face that had never really gone away but simply hung in the background as an unacknowledged ghost. Time had done much to distort those features. Jamie's memory had been meticulously detailed, with each freckle saved for posterity, but Meek's was little more than vague impressions. If they tried hard enough, the nose or the eyes might come into focus but a little more and even this was too painful. It could be indulged in the Darker moments, and if those had ever been, it was now.

"You go," Meek croaked, "I can't help you."

"I'm not asking," Said Sara, "You heard what Maligna said. We're stuck with you, and that means you're going to help."

Meek looked up at her again. Those vague impressions began to trace onto those all too familiar features.

"The best thing I can do is leave you alone," He Said, "Otherwise... I don't know what I'll do."

"Shut up," Said Sara, "You're not working for Maligna anymore, so the worst you can do is get yourself killed. And I know you're not useless. You did save my life in the garden, and whatever your reasons, you saved Ben in the Bathroom."

"So, you would die," Said Meek, "I saw how scared Ben was and knew that without you, he would break easier. I nearly got him in the Bedroom, but... I actually don't know what happened then, but he should have been killed."

There was a twitch in those eyes as the lips hardened.

"Why are you doing this?" Asked Sara.

It was a good question. Meek had made himself sick with that confession, but it was true. It was the calculations he had to make. Who can you really break down, and who just needs getting rid of as soon as possible?

But it hadn't been some figure on a sheet. It was her, standing right next to him, trying against all reason to convince herself that Meek was worth helping.

 It was enough to make Meek laugh. Or cry. It was difficult to tell the difference between the two after so many years.

"Look, I know what you've done," Said Sara, "And it's awful, worse than I can really even understand, and maybe after all that, you can't do any good, but this is your only chance. If we don't win this game, it's over for all of us. So, you can sit here and cry about how terrible you are, or you can actually try and do something right."

"You think anything I do will outweigh the rest," said Meek.

"Who cares," Said Sara, "It will be what it is, no matter what else came before it."

Meek looked once more into those dark brown eyes. A small part of him had hoped to find some true belief. A confidence he wasn't going to find within. Instead, all he found was the same fearful apprehension burning up his own insides.

And, of course, that was all there was. For all her tenacity, Sara was just a kid. She and her brother shouldn't have to face this on their own like Meek had. New tears rose to his eyes, and through them, Meek saw Sara's face fall. Guilt tore its way through him as it never had before. With the flood of terrible thoughts, however, came a sort of resolution.