The Afflicted

Chapter 3.

I undress quickly, shivering in the cool air. At home, I would have a fire burning in the hearth to warm me. I would have the kind hands of our maid to help me. Instead, I manage clumsily on my own, and the chill in the spring air pricks me like needles all over. The other two in the room are already under their thick quilts. Iris turns down the wick in the oil lamp and dampens the flame. I climb into my bed. It isn’t uncomfortable, but mine at home is far larger, with a thicker mattress.

It wouldn’t matter if it were the princess’s towering bed from the fairy tale. It isn’t home, and home is all I want, even as fractured as it is now. I lie in my bed and stifle my sobs until my chest aches so that I think I will die.

Iris rolls over in her bed. I feel her eyes on me in the dark and chance a look at her.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

In a tear-thick voice I lie to her: “I need the privy. I haven’t had a chance since Sister Anne collected me.”

The other two girls snicker in their beds. Iris speaks over them. “I’ll show you. Come with me.”

In our night dresses, we creep into the hall. Iris moves with impressive silence. She knows which stairs creak and which doors will be open. She stops me to listen for Sister Anne’s snoring.

Once we are out in the cool night air, she breathes a sigh of relief. “There is a chamber pot in the room, but Lizzie and Jane can be so immature. You need privacy.”

“You’re very good at escaping without anyone seeing you,” I observe, and study her face carefully in the moonlight.

She gives nothing away. “Living with so many people, you learn not to disturb others. You’ll learn it, too, I expect.”

I understand the unspoken. I will learn to do as she does, because I will frequently sneak away. That gives me hope.

The privy houses are a ways away from the dwelling house, past the chicken coops that strike me as oddly placed. “Why are they so far from the barn?”

“Mountain lions,” Iris says with a shiver. “They’re terrible this year. Ross says—”

Her sudden silence piques my interest. “What does Ross say?”

“Please, promise me that you’ll never utter that name near Sister Anne,” Iris pleads. “I don’t want him to be sent away.”

Her adeptness at leaving the dwelling house unnoticed is suddenly clear.

“I would never betray your confidence,” I tell her, and I mean it. I am not one to keep such a promise, but she is the only friend I am like to have in this place. I can keep an important secret for her. “But what does he say? About the mountain lions?”

Though our voices are already low, she drops hers to a whisper. “They’re not acting right this spring. There should be prey all over the mountain, now. It’s unusual for them to come so close.”

“So, there is less prey this year?” My eyes roam over the dark shape of the mountain. It seems that within the impenetrable trees that cover it, there should be all manner of rabbits, owls, and deer. But I am from the city, and I know little of the creatures that could inhabit my surroundings.

After I use the privy, I emerge to find Iris standing stock still in the darkness, staring at something in the distance that I cannot see.

“Iris?” I ask, and she turns, her eyes wide and full of fear that brands its mark on my heart, as well.

She schools her expression to one of good-natured embarrassment. “I’m being silly. I thought someone was watching me.”

The feeling catches onto me. The darkness seems closer than before. It seems to hold within it too much space, and the weight of our vulnerability presses on me like a cold hand.

I cannot fight off a mountain lion.

We are of the same mind in a single instant, and we break for the dwelling house in a hard run. It doesn’t matter to me now if Sister Anne or anyone else catches us. No punishment she could inflict upon us will be as terrible as letting the terrors of the dark catch us.

We reach the dwelling house, and Iris has the presence of mind to shut the door quietly. We stand in the little foyer, catching our breath, hoping whatever lurked outside will not burst through the door. With every step we take on the climb to our floor, our fright fades a little more, giving way to giggles at our silliness. Of course, nothing had chased us. We were two girls jumping at shadows.

Still, my dreams are haunted by the threat of claws and gnashing teeth. I see Iris, covered in furrows of deep red and torn skin. With a twist of my mind, she wears my face, and in my nightmare I scream.

It is not my scream, I realize upon waking. All four of us startle from our beds and hasten down the stairs in our nightgowns. Sister Anne stands in the doorway, blocking our way.

“Thou art not dressed, sisters!” Sister Anne snaps at us. “Upstairs with you! Move!”

We reluctantly recede to the bottom of the steps, but halt as a sobbing sister pushes her way through the door. Beyond her, in the moment before it closes again, I see the shocking white and red of blood-stained feathers spread over the green spring grass.

I look to Iris, and I know she has seen it, too.