"Before I continue... tell me how? How did you find that name? I am pretty sure the police blocked it out from the public. Anne's family would have made sure of that... And I cannot think of someone brave or stupid enough to pronounce it out loud. Not with what happened." there was a dark interest glinting from the lady's eyes, who analysed every corner of Jen's face.
Hoping to promote an honest exchange, Jen opened up on her source. "I am not sure you know him... Mr Knowles. To my knowledge, he didn't attend the same class as you, but he was at the school just before things derailed. He was the one who told me about the familiars, the crypt and the fire..." and no matter what the nurse said that day, Jen was sure that the man talked. Those words were real, and like a painful wound, it was carved in her skin.
At the end of her explanations, Mrs Woods' distaste was visible. "So you talked with a crazy man? I thought he hadn't spoken in years... Must have been the guilty conscience." Full of disdain, she grumbled about Mr Knowles while she went to collect the bottle of whiskey from behind the cabinet.
When she had it secured in her hands, she dragged herself back to the table, pouring another drink. There was a pause and then she turned to Jen, her arm extended with the open bottle. The girl looked at the lady and then at the flask. Her throat grew dry and her hands shaky. The will to scratch was overcoming her until a ray of clarity stopped her, and she refused the old lady's offer with a made-up smile. Mrs Woods shrugged her shoulders and continued to pour the whiskey for herself.
"Did the coward say he ran away after the shit he caused?" the old lady settled the bottle on the table with violence. "I remember him... he made the mess and left, leaving us to deal with the consequences of his actions. It was his wreck. That coward was the one who caused all of it!" she spat and took a long sip. "I hope his end gives him the punishment he deserves."
Jen was unsure how to reply to such statement, again, the truth seemed to be the best option. "He is being treated for several psychotic episodes, and he hasn't been allowed to leave the hospital for a long time now." she opted to leave out his mute diagnose as she was unsure that would be of help to the situation at hand. Jen had expected some restrained reaction, yet she got only a gloomy silence.
The silence lasted a minute before a formidable laugh left the glossy lips of the woman. It shocked Jen, who became uncomfortable with such an open display of happiness at the suffering of another human being. Mrs Woods noticed her discomfort and stopped laughing, though her smile continued. "You know Miss Brighton, I always thought that alcohol would make the bad memories disappear." she looked at the already half-empty bottle. "However the memories of those times never once disappeared, if possible, they grew more prominent as years passed by. These..." the old lady tapped the cup. "don't help anymore, if they ever did. We all have our punishments, mine is those memories that stick like glue. His is to be trapped in his misery without a way out. What is yours, Miss Brighton?"
Jen stared back at her, words stuck in her throat. It was now her time to fear a question that brought back bad memories.
Another laugh. "Of course you don't have one Miss Brighton, you didn't go through that hell." she then pointed her finger to Jen, while balancing the glass with mastery. "Was he the one who said Anne was evil and haughty?"
"Wasn't she?" asked Jen, having recovered from those scary thoughts.
"No. She was just a lonely girl, like all of us. Our families dumped us at that school because they were too busy or too uninterested in us." the drinking began again, as to bury the sorrow those words brought. A sorrow Jen knew and had seen before on Mr Knowles. "In her heart, Anne was a good child, but he..."
The shaking began with ferocity, causing some of the whiskey to spill over the cold ground. Jen stood up and grabbed Mrs Woods hands, stabilizing the cup. There was some resistance when Jen tried to take the drink away, but she applied a little more pressure and the woman's grip relaxed. She then stirred the lady back to her seat and the cup stayed on the desk, never far away, for whenever Mrs Woods would need its sour comfort.
"Anne came from a very rich and powerful family." declared Mrs Woods, as Jen retracted to her own seat. "What you see here, what I have, is a grain of sand compared to what they owned. For generations, her family sent their children to the Beldmount Boarding school..." there was a bold smile on the old lady's features.
"I found out that some of Anne's ancestors had been part of the first students at Beldmount. One of them achieved such richness that he was able to become one of the most powerful men in the country. The man, Amadeus Gulliver, became convinced that the Beldmount school was responsible for his success. It may have been or not... but the truth is that his faith was so big it rubbed off onto the next generations, making it a tradition on the Gulliver's family to send their children to Beldmount. The family accepted anything the school proposed and was almost obsessed with its teaching methods... Same with Anne... who knew everything before reaching those damned iron gates..." the lady struggled with her last words, which were stuck on her throat. She then peered at the glass again, distracted and pleading.
"What do you mean?"
The lady turned away from the whiskey, her breathing constant and slow, to bring calmness into herself. Something Jen found oddly familiar. The lady continued her breathing exercise until the temptation of alcohol was lesser than her will to tell the story.
"She had found her grandmother's diary." those words shushed between teeth caused a strong ache on Jen's heart. She began to scratch herself again, yet the older woman did not notice her, concentrating instead on what to say and on the drink that watched her. "Only God knows what went through that lady's head, but she made the bold move of describing parts of the ritual. In such detail that I find it sickening." Mrs Woods locked her eyes on Jen, who stopped scratching as she saw the woman laugh. "Oh yes, Anne brought her grandmother's diaries with her."
The woman gave a disapproving nod. "Children are curious by nature... my grandchildren are the same, so of course Anne would try to know more. She went to the only person who could provide an answer, her father. Cold and unforgiving, he said nothing... it broke her to feel his disregard. Many times she would tell me he hated her, and I believed her."
Sounds erupted from outside and their heads turned to the wide windows that showed a lush garden. A pair of fair-skinned children ran around followed by a woman, whom Jen guessed to be Mrs Woods daughter due to their similarity. They laughed and played without a care in the world. And both Jen and Mrs Woods stayed quiet, watching the outside world that was filled with a far away happiness.
"Family was a taboo topic in those walls. The more we talked about it, the more we resented being dumped like a bag of trash. It weakened us and they were lurking right beside you, waiting for you to cave in on those dark thoughts. To feed on them." a small breath erupted from the old woman. "But Anne from time to time let it all out, she didn't mind that it fed him. She felt powerful for once and it excited her. An excitement that was real even before the ritual, when she was debating with me which name she would give the creature."
"She... was deciding names for her familiar with you, Mrs Woods?" asked Jen, who looked at the woman for answers. The woman disregarded her initially, more interested on the outside.
"Yes, though I must confess very little credit for it. I was unable to partake in suggestions as it gave me the jibbers. Especially when she told me she wanted a dangerous name." winds stumbled against the window making it shake a little. The children outside began running after their flying hats, their laughs even louder.
"Anne Katherine came with that name because it was dangerous?" there was a slight disbelief in Jen's voice. The old lady caught it and she furrowed her slim eyebrows. Those blue eyes fixated on her again.
"Yes." she cleared her throat. "If you ask me why she ended up with that name, I couldn't say. There was an even bigger taboo on those walls, and it was talking about our familiars. It was too personal and too connected with..." Mrs Woods voice failed her and she touched her throat, giving a side look to the bottle beside her.
Jen felt the woman's desire grow with time, her nails carving on the weak flesh. Each second deeper and deeper until blood was the inevitable result. And Jen scratched and scratched, soon it would be her blood to leave her skin.
She needed to ask about them, the reason for this sorry wreck and the people's messed up heads.
"What did those familiars do, Mrs Woods? Mr Knwoles answers were far from clear."
The woman let her poor neck go and her face twisted. And a conclusion thundered on Jen's head.
Hate was a powerful weapon, even against a voracious desire.
What do you think about this chapter??