The next few nights were cold enough for Rachel to bring another thick blanket to my bed, given my bedroom's lack of a fireplace. It did not take me long to stop awakening from my bed in confusion, unsure of where I was. But I still did not feel as if I was home. The comfort the Doll House had brought me was simply not there yet. Although Damian's presence calmed me, and certainly helped me not feel so lost in the strange house, he could not watch over me every second of the day for long. He had to return to work at the college.
"I aid in their research for the asylum," he said. "When a patient passes away, I undersee the autopsies. But most of the day I take discussion sessions with the patients: ask questions, discover their histories. Slowly but surely, we shall unravel the mystery of their mind's illness. Not through electrical shock and physical stimulations - I find such methods barbaric. The mind is an exquisite and complex organ. There is far more to it than we as doctors can yet understand."
I was frightened to be in the house with out him, although I would not admit it. There was a comfort in his presence, wherein I could rest assured that if I lost control again, he would be there to stop me. But it seemed Damian was afraid of the same problem arising in his absence. When he returned to work on Monday, November 5th, he left me with a guardian.
"So what is it ye' do all day, lass?" Alexander Iscariot's nose had been rather haphazardly patched up, and it made his voice sound particularly nasally. I doubted he had ever gone to a doctor for it - it looked as if he had set it straight and bandaged it himself. "You should be reading the Word of the Lord, you know. It may bring ye' comfort."
I was uncertain how much Damian had told Alex of my situation, but I certainly wasn't about to spill more to him. Any man who toted about a Bible on his belt at all hours of the day made me uncomfortable, even if Alex was the strangest man of the Church I had ever met. In truth, this was the first time in my life that I was utterly without work to do. In my father's house I had worked from sun-up to sun-down, caring for the animals and helping mother tend the house. In the Doll House there was never a shortage of clients to see or chores to do. But now...
I opted for spending the morning in the garden, despite the dreary weather. The sky was all gray clouds but the garden still felt like a haven. Little paths lined with pebbles meandered through the small backyard space, while magnolias clustered along the brick wall and largely obscured it from view. I sat on a little wooden bench beneath one of the tree, while Alex wandered boredly about.
I couldn't take much more of the man's pacing, so I said suddenly, "So did he live? The man from the Church?"
Alex looked confused for a moment. "The man from the - ah, oh, that man! Aye, he's alive. Hospital patched him up. Getting him a right fine faux arm as well, to take the place of his wee stump." He waved his fist about cheerfully, as if there was something funny to be found in the man having lost a limb on account of me.
"False limbs are expensive," I said softly. "How will the poor man work?" Unbidden, memories of my vicious attack flooded my mind. The glee I had felt when slicing in his flesh, chopping through bone and sinew like he was little more than a carcass on a butcher table. To think that I had allowed myself to become that...my stomach knotted. "I've doomed him..."
Vicious little Samara. Stop denying you enjoyed it, you know you should be ashamed. Like a rabid dog, everyone would be better off if someone just-
Alex looked confused yet again. "Damian didn't tell you? He's paid for the man's limb. He set him up with a job at the college, something easy the man can do seeing as he's missing a hand."
I had never asked Damian about the man; I had consistently been too caught up in my own worries to even think of him. I didn't even know his name... Perhaps Damian thought I simply didn't care...and why shouldn't he? I had shown myself again and again to be selfish. What must he think of you? Self-absorbed little Samara. Always so caught up in your own little problems.
The sudden shock of a cold raindrop hitting my cheek snapped me from my thoughts. Another quickly followed, so I gave up my seat in the garden to retreat inside before the rain began to come down in a torrent. I opted instead to settle in the sitting room, curled up in a great cushioned chair. I pulled aside the heavy curtains Damian had over the windows so I could watch the rain fall. Rachel brought tea, making me certain the woman could read minds. A hot cup of Earl Grey was exactly what I needed. I was disappointed that I could not converse with her, or at least, I could not understand what she would say in return. I made a mental note to ask Damian if he would teach me the signs she made with her hands.
Staring out the window, watching the little raindrops race down the pane, I gave myself a moment just to breath. I still didn't know how to maneuver in this new life of mine, being watched and guarded like a vicious thing. It was difficult to think that I was indeed someone to be feared, but not in the alluring, sexy way I had long hoped to be.
Accepting that if I was not careful, I could truly cause harm...I hated the thought. I rejected it. Even as I wondered just how much harm I had been intended to cause, when Carnickey put these scars in me. He had to have known, after all, how dangerous I had become. But why let me go? Why unleash me upon the world?
You're nothing more than a vessel, foolish girl. Everything you are and everything you will be is thanks to us. Eventually you'll realize you just need to
"Stop fighting."
I turned around abruptly, almost spilling my tea. Alex sat quietly in a chair at the opposite side of the room, thin silver spectacles perched upon his broken nose, the Bible open in his lap. His lips moved slightly as he read.
"Did you say something?" I said.
"No," he muttered, barely glancing up. The clock went on ticking, the rain pattering. There were footsteps somewhere above as Rachel moved about. I turned back to the window.
A young woman was walking slowly down the opposite side of the street. I assumed it was a woman: her hair was long, dark and bedraggled, and even through the wet window I could see that her plain white dress was stained. I could not see her face, for she walked with it down, almost stooped. She had no umbrella, and her slow movement made it seem as if she had utterly given up on finding shelter. Likely homeless...lost...alone...
"Just like you."
Goosebumps rose up on my arms. That was not Alex's voice. I turned my head very slightly, to see him still there reading silently in his chair. No one else was in the room. No one could have spoken. I turned back to the window.
The woman was now standing in the middle of the street.
My fingers tightened around my teacup. Why was she just...standing there? Swaying ever so slightly, hair obscuring her face. She looked almost...gray. Her body was so sunken, her clothes hung lank upon her as if she were starving. Slowly, she raised her head. One overly-wide eye stared at me from within the veil of her hair. My hands began to shake. I could not catch my breath.
The teacup dropped. Tea splattered across the floor but miraculously the cup did not break. I leapt up in alarm, watching as the tea spread across the wooden floorboards toward the fine rug.
"Ah, damn it all," Alex was by my side at once. "Are you alright?"
"Yes...yes I just...it slipped..."
"Just a moment. I'll get a rag," He left the room in no large hurry, rubbing his eyes as if he had been on the verge of sleep. I huffed in irritation, and picked up the teacup to place it back on the little table beside my chair. At least I hadn't broken anymore of Damian's dishes.
"See thou hurt not the oil and the wine."
That voice...it was the same voice...but now it sounded different, not as if it was in the room but somewhat muffled, almost as if...
As if it were just outside the window.
I approached the glass. I felt as if I would lose everything I had eaten that day from how tightly my stomach was knotting. The woman was not standing in the middle of the street anymore.
She was standing just below the window.
I was frozen. Her single visible eye fixated upon me. Her emaciated form shuddered. I realized that her limbs were too long, her bones too knobby. Even her neck was elongated. My ears filled with the sound of rushing water. Her rotten lips were moving. Again and again. See thou hurt not the oil and the wine. See thou hurt not the oil and the wine. See thou-
I fled from the room. I knew her form, I knew her face. It was The Grey One coming for me again. I ran up the stairs, and utter panic closed around my ribcage until my breath was crushed out of me. I paused on the second landing, trembling, hoping for the respite of seeing Alex come after me. He was an exorcist too...I had to trust him as Damian trusted him...perhaps he-
A gray, slimy hand wrapped itself around the banister. The Grey One, sopping wet from the rain and dripping with rot, dragged herself around the corner of the stairway. Her blackened teeth clattered in her head, the sound eerily similar to the ticking of a clock. My breath became sobs. I couldn't bear to look at her, but nor could I look away. I backed away as she dragged herself toward me, and somehow from her chattering mouth I could hear the sound of my mother weeping-
I backed into something hard and strangely cold. With a shriek I turned, fists up, ready to strike and claw at whatever - whoever - was there. There was a flurry of red hair, the scent of smoke and ash, and my flailing limbs were caught in an unbreakable grip. I was turned, hugged tightly back against the reaper's cold form as the Grey One lurched ever nearer.
"Stop panicking!" Kiiji voice hissed in my ear. His grip was like ice, and somehow felt unreal, as if his skin were wooden. "You're doing what it wants. Face it! Stare it down! It is merely an illusion."
My breath was heaving. I could not see straight. I thought I might pass out. "Let me go!" I shrieked. "Let me go, let me go, let me-"
He shook me, his grip painful now. "Damian will not always be there for you, girl! There will not always be some guardian to look after you! You are their host and you can be their master. Listen to me." I couldn't breath. The Grey One was at my feet. The touch of her hand on my leg was wet, rotten meat. "It is an illusion. Nothing more. Demons can do nothing without a human. There are helpless without you. Yes, they are terrifying. Yes, they will tell you horrible things. But you and I both know that for all Damian's bravado, he could not have exorcised Krahia if you had not fought so hard. So you'd damned well keep fighting." He shook me again, and it shocked a breath into me. I forced myself to stare down at the hideous creature at my feet, at its gaping mouth and hideous teeth. I tried to muster up whatever bravery I had felt when I faced Krahia's illusions - but that had been a dream and I knew I was still awake now...
"Centuries' worth of witches and priestesses have learned to control them," Kiiji said, his voice low. "So can you. Most of the beings within you are weak. This one is not, but the most she can do for now is frighten you."
I forced myself to keep breathing, as the urge to run was slowly dissipating. I was left instead with lingering nausea that I struggled to ignore. The Grey One looked fainter, somehow. Like thick smoke that had at last begun to leave the room.
"Samara! Hey! Where'd you get off to?"
Alex was pounding up the stairs. Suddenly I was spun, and stood face to face with Kiiji. I was so close that I could now see that he had more than one set of very sharp teeth in his mouth. "Why are you doing this?" I said. "I thought you couldn't interfere..."
He winced. "I'm not interfering. Things are more dangerous than you know. More dangerous than Damian knows. Don't rely on him to save you. There are violent things that seek entry to this world that suddenly see only your sense of will in their way. Do not let that falter."
"Samara! What are ye' doing?"
Kiiji was gone. The Grey One too. I stood alone in the hallway, shaking, as Alex watched in confusion from the stairs. I quickly looked about, trying to get my bearings, still afraid I would see the Grey One lurking.
"Samara?" Alex spoke more slowly, cautiously now. "What's this about?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. It's nothing. I was going to lie down in my room."
"Ah," Alex hardly looked convinced. "Perhaps you'll want to come back downstairs. Rachel has cooked up something for lunch. Damian said you have a rather hearty appetite."
I did not feel hungry in the least. But I did not want to arouse suspicion. I forced a smile onto my face. "Oh! Lovely. I'll be right down."