Chapter 5: House of Horrors (part of)

Still somewhat unfinished. Early draft.

  

A large house, the ghost of a home loomed over me like a grand ancestral spirit. Its many windows covered over, reinforced with wrought iron bars. Every corner of the place had been set free, left to tangle in on itself. The path to the front door was an labyrinth of weeds and cobwebs, I could feel the remnants of gravel under my feet. As we reached the grand front door, tall and with a heavy stone knocker, Arn stepped forward. His foot met the base and it reluctantly swung open. It did not like being intruded upon by those that did not share its legacy. Its life time was far gone, I could see clearly mould and rot creeping their way along each wall. There was a stench of death to the building as if we had intruded in on a grave.

            “Cosy,” I mumbled, stepping forward into the vestibule. Michael threw me a look of contempt and I thought how well he fit with the cobwebs and the long dead.

            “We won’t be disturbed, that’s important,” sighed Arn. He looked about hopefully.

            “Stay off the top floors.” With that he walked deliberately into the room on the right. We followed. It was empty, as was the room on the left. I tried desperately to keep my nerve, all the time noting how calm my companions were in the face of this hostile environment. In my heart I looked around for traces of home, but found none. The place reminded me of nothing. Sylvia edged her way down some stairs into a small kitchen. It was old but at least bare and clean. No rotting wallpaper or worm eaten panels. Next to that were a set of neatly cleared storerooms. Being below ground, they had escaped the wet and therefore the rot.

            “We’ll stay here” Sylvia shouted setting down her backpack. Arn and Michael followed in. Michael nodded in agreement. Then each in turn, we sat down, I was the last. I wanted to be far away from them, back in my life more than anything in the world but Sylvia kept me in her hold. Whether I wished it or not my chains were tight, the digits in my arm a reminder of my mistake. The ultimate reproof of curiosity. To break up the atmosphere, partially created by the house, partially by the insanity of my presence I spoke.

            “It’ll be tough heading north tomorrow.” Michael’s eyes flicked up towards me.

            “Why?” he made no effort to conceal his distaste. I was a parasite, neither wanted nor useful. In his eyes I was far better dead.

            “It passes by the Urnbular border.” He made a noise which sounded like a feeble imitation of laughter and looked away scowling.

            “What?” I asked softly, vary wary of his bawled up fists, his scabby dirty hands. Arn interrupted in a kinder more conversational voice.

            “We can make most of the way through the network.” I bit my lower lip.

            “With the crawlers?” I heard Michael shift angrily but Arn replied as if I was the most innocent person in the world. His face washed of all except a weak smile.

            “We don’t use that word,” Sylvia chipped in.

            “The network is our family. I grew up on the inside, so did Arn.”

            “Michael came to us when he was 11” Arn explained. They were so alive, so calm about the brutal way they had been brought into the world. Sylvia and Arn had paid so dearly for the sins of their parents. I imagined them born into darkness, filthy, without care, mothers wracked with the unnatural pain of solitary childbirth.

            “Did you ever get to see the outside?”

            “Sometimes” Arn said “But the war made it difficult, I’m a runner by choice.” Michael pounded a fist on the floor, white, shaking and furious.

            “Can everyone stop! Just stop!” He threw me a look of absolute hatred such as I had never seen, not even by those I had shackled, thrown to the ground, imprisoned.

            “Stop talking to her like she’s one of us! She’s not, she’s the reason we have to live like this, why half of my friends are dead.” Arn reached over to him, but Michael threw him away spitting.

            “I can’t look at her, this is disgusting.” I narrowed my gaze, clenched my fists wanting very dearly to kill him.

            “Michael,” Arn whispered, holding his head in two outstretched hands “Listen to me, this is a completely unusual situation but we have to stay clear headed.” Michael shook him away.

            “Why can’t we just kill her, she’d do the same to all of us.”

            “Because,” snapped Arn “we don’t do that, we aren’t like them! She has the coordinates, just like ours, personally I want to know why.” I groaned, holding my head in my hands.

            “I need to go back,”

            “Yes?” Michael shouted “Well if we let you back you’ll just keep killing people, and ruining their lives-” I shivered under his murderous stare.

            “I’m just a processor-”

            “I’M JUST A RUNNER!” Arn grabbed at Michael as he launched towards me. I scrabbled up and stepped back. Sylvia tried to take Michaels hands but he threw her away.

            “M-Michael..” she whimpered throwing him a look of despair.

            “Michael, calm down!” Arn shouted firmly.  

            “No! look at her Arn, just look at her, think about what she does.”

            “Michael please!” Sylvia whispered, tears forming in her large doe eyes. But Michael threw himself away from Arn towards me and in doing so accidentally struck Sylvia hard in the face. I saw the red welt form. It was as if time had stopped, the air alive with horror. I smelt it before I could see it. Michael’s hands bubbled and swelled red, crackling fizzing with burns. Sylvia cried out as Michael dropped shaking to the ground. He did not scream or grasp his hands. I saw a face of quiet concentration, his eyes were clamped shut trying to trap the small pool of tears that were dropping very slowly and hanging like warm stalactites from his pointed chin. From underneath the veil of pain I heard the faint words.

            “I’m so sorry Sylvia, so…so sorry,” She shushed him and held his head him her hands.

            “Why do you do this Michael?” Arn looked directly at me and indicated for me to follow him. I closed the door quietly behind me and I heard the other two whisper feverishly over each other. Arn sighed deeply when we had exited and wandered up the stairs. We reached the main entrance and entered one of the empty rooms.

            “I’m sorry Ruth.” I fought back tears as best I could, I would not make a habit of weeping.

            “You shouldn’t say sorry to me, I…” my breath was caught in my effort to conceal tears. “w-what was that.” I stammered the words coming out in a strange strangled voice that did not belong to me. Arn looked away, possibly in regret or exhaustion.

            “That’s what deprecators do, they torture themselves. Michael loves Sylvia more than anything in the world. He needs her, but,” Arn looked back at me “He can’t stand seeing her hurt or unhappy, he always thinks its his fault.” I covered my mouth unable to bear any of it another second.

            “That was horrible, he- he didn’t even..” I stopped for fear of shedding my tears. Arn expression became austere.

            “Pain, particularly extreme pain, has become a part of Michael’s life. It’d be fair to say he’s used to it.” I sunk down to the floor hugging my knees. Arn leant silently against a wall, not sure how to proceed. My tears fell, silently but obvious none the less.

            “I want you to kill me,” He looked up “I’m serious, I can’t bare this anymore. I don’t want to be any part of it.” I buried my head in my knees, sobbing, sobbing like I never did, I the girl who never cried. Clever Ruth, the one who could take down grown men in the street, the one who knew how to be strong. Arn was beside me, he had crept down and taken my hands.

            “I hope one day you want to do magic, that you see through your past. Know this, it doesn’t change the people you love, how good they are. Life is very layered Ruth. Yes, I  do magic, I chose not to deny that part of myself, but I’m not a bad person. And neither are you.” I looked at him and he was smiling, smiling despite all of it.