VI

embbraced - PC

+1+

The contractors came the next morning, they were discreet and unexpected. Their work was quick and simple, Only Mrs. Beck was alarmed as to why I was building a 30 ft gate around the house with matching grates around the windows. I assured her it was to keep out the vandal who had massacred my dogs.

It took only a matter of hours before the structure was complete. The gate was shined to almost silver, it loomed around the house as if it were a wall.

 Lucie was pleased with the gate, in truth it was not designed to keep people out but  to keep Clara and I in.

After the gates were secured I found Lucie  waiting for me in the living room, she had delicately taken apart an empty box of playing cards.

“Can I trust you ?”, she finally asked.

“What have you done now?”

“Nothing”, I had offended her, “It's just. . .I do care for Clara, I want her to be apart of us. Can I trust you . . . alone with her? You know what I will do if you let her escape. You saw what happened to those animals.”

“Lucille”. I attempted to gain her confidance, "Where are you going ?"

“I can't tell you--I’m sorry”, she said, “This is how it has to be for now, can I trust you ?”

 “Yes”, I agreed mostly for Ms. Delune's sake.

Ms. DeLune suddenly fell to the floor. Lucie's presence was gone and had left her like a broken rag doll. Her hand was at an odd angle and for the first time I took note of the wedding band there. 

 

 +++

Clara DeLune stirred slightly, most likely expecting to be in the Black Room. Her eyes opened wide with fear, looking around before resting on me.

“Ms. DeLune”, I greeted her.

“Please-let me go”

“I’m not holding you here”

She looked around the dining room confusion. I’d assumed she had put the situation together but in the course of the month she had only been conscious for 14 hours.

Ms. DeLune  stood awkwardly from the chair, looking at me as if I were the devil in person. She stumbled toward the back door. I knew it was locked and waited for her to come back.

 She ambled back into the room, falling at my feet in tears.

“Open the door, please”, she begged, “Let me go home”

She sat up on her knees pulling at the lapels of my jacket, I was forced to look at her. I had theorized it many times and it had proven to be true. Ms. DeLune had the same eyes and pronounced features of her grandfather. To see her cry and beg was very, I hoped, similar to Roger.

“Sit”, I softly ordered her,' I doubt you are in any position to make orders."

She found her way back to her chair and stared at me. She managed to pick up her fork and eat while continuing to cry at the same time.

“Follow  me”, I said standing up and taking her into my office

She followed me to my office and sat in a chair in the corner. Dark thoughts aside I wondered what I was supposed to do with her that would please Lucie

“If you disobey you will be placed back in your room, you must not try and leave”, I warned. I could only imagine Lucie dragging her back, or the punishment she would be given.

“Please don’t hurt me. . . we can talk about this”

She began to cry again and when she had finally quieted I gently explained the extremities of her situation.  Her eyes grew wide. There was no doubt that she had felt violated to some degree but I was simply the messenger.

 The news of her disappearance was quickly spreading and fading at the same time. I left out this part out.

 "Is she here ? right now”, she asked

 "I don’t think so, but I would not undermine her influence”

 “What if I don’t want to play along ?”, she asked, “What if I’m not as weak as you—“

 “My actions have only been for your benefit.” I considered this, “Do you not love your grandmother ? Don't you feel for her."

 She sat back in her chair, now realizing why she was in the clothing Lucie had selected

 “When I was six I knocked over one of her collectible Angels. I was more upset than she was and Grandpa told me I could play on his piano so I would stay out of trouble. He thought I’d make some noise and get bored. But when I heard those keys and those sound and it all came together for me. Grandpa told me I was special, he taught me keys and songs I had such a wonderful time"

 She relaxed a little, laughing at her own memory

 “I didn’t realize that every hour he spent at my house teaching me was an hour away from grandma. I didn’t realize that he only smiled when we played, I didn’t know he used me to get away from his problems.”

 She sunk further into the chair.

 “I thought Grandpa loved her, so I loved her. I brought her presents , went shopping and helped her decorate. I even became a teacher like she did.  I mostly loved her because I thought it would make Grandpa happy. . . that’s so terrible, oh please don’t tell her.”

 “Will you love her to make me happy ?”, I asked

 “No”, she took offense, “I have a life to live. I have—had an audition. I have things I want to do. I can’t stay in this house forever”

 “I fear we don’t have a choice.”

“We can’t possibly be the family she want us to be.”

 I nodded in agreement

 “I won’t let her use me”, She said wiping away new tears.

 “Please”, I spoke quickly, “Don't cry."

Seeing her in tears should have been unpleasant.

Should have been.

The dizzying circumstances that lead her here all began with the absolved crime her grandfather had committed. If only she could direct her anger at the correct ancestor.  It wasn't Lucie's fault. It was Rogers.

Hurt - Pianoo

+2+

Clara

For the first time I can see beyond the confines of my room. I peer out the window at the newly constructed gate keeping me from the outside.

I berated myself for crying earlier. My last words to Mr. Thorpe had been silly babble of a girl who dependent on her Daddy for everything and let reality wash over her entirely unnoticed.

+++

Control

Was beyond my reach. I would find myself thrust into darkness and wake up in some part of the house with little recollection of how or why I was there. It was as if I were constantly in a drunken stupor.

I never questioned Mr. Fierro as to where she went, for the most part Lucie kept him as much in the dark as me. Sometimes she was gone for a few hours or until the sunset. There were times I could feel her watching

Lucie had also began to make small changes to who I was.

 My hair was shorter and straightened, my skin lacked its sunkissed glow. I studied my reflection for a long time before I realized my ears had been pierced with Chanel earrings and nails painted a bright red. I would wonder the house like a lost ghost but in reality I was looking for a way out.

One day I went into the kitchen and picked up a chair from the breakfast nook and forced the wooden legs into the window. I'd decided brute force was my best option. The window It shattered, a bit to loudly. I was certain Mr. Fierro would have heard it in his office.

Working fast I reached through the jagged glass to  unlock the window from the outside. My wrist got caught inbetween the bars outside the window. I pulled hard to twist it free and the glass cut deeper..

“God”, I hissed in pain and began to panic.

 The adrenaline was making me unsteady and I reached my other hand in to pull the first free. My blood spilled down my arms and  dripped onto the marble counter tops.

“Ms. DeLune”

"Stay away from me.", I had to get out of here.

I began to shout towards the open window hoping someone would hear me, Fierro attempted to pick me up but I fought back kicking in the window with my foot. I screamed as loud as I could. Still he dragged me up the stairs and I collapsed on the floor of what was my room.

 “What did I tell you about trying to escape?”

I took a moment to catch my breath.

"Why are you helping her ? I'm the one that's suffering."

 “Ms.DeLune”, he said, “Your Grandmother is, in her own way, trying to keep you safe.”

 “Grandmother ? she is just Lucie now, and what in God's name could she protecting me from ?”

 “Lucie told me you were supposed to die, perhaps you still are.”

 “Yes, by her hand”

 “You do not believe she wants to protect you ?”

 “I think you’re both insane”

 He left and returned with a first aid kit, I cleaned up my hands under her gaze. I could feel his eyes on me but I concentrated on making the bleeding sto

"Mr. Fierro, I need a favor", I finally said.

"Certainly", his politeness came off as being smug

I opened the piano top and reached between the keys for a piece of paper. It was a letter I had written and read over a thousand times.

"It's a letter for my parents, it says that I have taken sanctuary at Il Gardenia to get away from marrying Mr. Thorpe.It's a convent in Italy. . . please. I don't want them to worry about me."

He took the letter, but apparently never delivered it.

The next Sunday morning I once again attempted to escape.

The door to the Black Room was opened so I moved to sit in the hallway with and listen for anyone to come by on a boat. Maybe someone would get lost in the wods

My silence was interrupted by the a mummer of male voices. Fierro was talking to someone.

 My father ? Peter ?

Such silly thoughts

 I crept down the quiet stairs and listened. The male voice was unfamiliar. His words had a rhythm to it. I peered through the living room doors.  Mr Fierro sat across from a man in a dark suite and tie. Both men were holding bibles.

This man could save me. Certainly he had read the papers, it wouldn’t matter what Mr. Fierro or Lucie would do to me because someone was bound to remember seeing me here

 I knocked on the living room door and heard one of the bibles fall to the floor. I walked in and attempted to make eye contact with the man. The man’s eyes were a dull brown and he only looked at me quickly My boldness surprised Mr. Fierro, I expected him to drag me from the room and lock me away but that would look suspicious. I had to say something without saying anything at all. I spoke first.

 “I’m sorry to interrupt, I just became so lonely playing my piano.”

 I made eye contact with the man

 Remember me, please.

"My name is Cla--"

“A family friend”, Mr. Fierro answered curtly, “You should go to your room, now”

 I gave the man one last lingering look before heading upstairs. I would hear it from him now.

God, how I hated this.

He came up an hours later

 “what do you think you were doing, Mrs. DeLune?”

 “Trying to get free”, I told him, “or have you forgotten that you have kidnapped me.”

 “I have done no such thing. I doubt Reverend Allan will recognize you.”

 “ Reverend ? I didn’t realize you were so religious.”

 “I was raised by Plain people, he shut the door and changed the subject, “Listen Ms. DeLune you are not to tell Lucie about Reverend Allan. I fear she would not approve."

"Is that you never left the farm ?", I pushed my limits but he appeared to be in a  rare mood to talk, "Because of how different the world is."

"Yes, I suppose. I regret that now. Not seeing the world."

  Suddenly the conversation took a turn I didn't particularly like, I felt this impeding weight full of what I didn’t know about him, everything I learned seemed to pieces things together while creating more questions.

+3+

 After lunch I found myself sitting across from Mr. Fierro with a a chess board perched on a lazy susan between us. Until just now I though the  board was decoration, each piece was made of heavy brass or pewter with a marble setting.

 The room itself was filled with antique and modern furniture, there was a large TV in the room, it was unplugged and likely to have never been touched--the same went for the white mac book in the corner.This was a house of illusions and we were the main attraction.

"It's not fair you know", I said, "You seem to  know an awful lot about me, I don't really know anything about you."

"Maybe it's best kept that way."

"Do you still love her ? Lucie.", I didn't expect an answer

 I heard one of the pieces move and looked down at the board. Mr. Fierro had moved one of the pieces. I stared at the board for a while.

 “I don’t know how to play”, I said.

 “Then you will lear—“

 “I don’t want to learn how to play. How can you not understand how absurd this is?”

 “I understand perfectly well.” he lied

“She may never let us leave this house. I've seen the world and you never will if you don't fight her.Why do you continue to stand by her ?”

"Lucie is my wife. I made vows to her. I will not allow those bonds to be easily broken."

I listened, I always listened but I suddenly felt as if the air had been taken out of me.

 “I was so foolish to think you would ever love me.”

He blinked once at my words and further concentrated on the chess board.I was tempted to knock the entire board over but instead t headed for the stairs.

Then I realized the front door was open. I ran without thinking.

I ran straight towards the gate. How long had it been since I felt real fresh air, it was bitter sweet to be outside. I ran to the gate and screamed beyond it.

"Help ! Help me. . ."

I heard her laugh. Opening the door had been.

 

+++

I found myself in an unfamiliar place.

A large  lavish suite with bright beige and gold furniture, it smelled sweet like powder and musk

 It was warm and sunny and a look outside the window showed the narrow rustic streets of Rome. A calling card on the nightstand showed the address for Westin Excelsior Rome.

"Rome ?"

Had I awoken from a terrible nightmare ?

 I was curiously dressed in an elegant nightgown fitted with lace and embodied with lustrous beads.

 I turned back to the  view of the Via down below, pressing my fingers to the window.  I noticed my ring finger was  laden with a heavy diamond ring, it caught the light so well I was almost hypnotized by it.

 I heard the bathroom door open followed by a rolling steam and a man I instantly recognized, wrapped in an open robe.

 “Mr. Thorpe ?”

 “Mrs. Thorpe ?”

 “What ?”

 I almost fell back against the window but steadied myself. My hand was still slightly shaking; the unsteady hand of a new bride on her wedding night.

 “how did I get here ?”

 “It’s okay Clarabelle”, He approached me, “Everything thing is just fine---”

 I woke up startled from my dream.

I was in the Black Room. Al although it was empty and I was more than aware that I wasn’t alone.

Isn’t this better than the alternative, Clarabelle

 “No”, I said looking around as if I could see or touch her.

You were always a dreamer, just like me.

  “This is more like a nightmare”, I wasn’t even sure if I was speaking out loud.

 You and I have had always had a special connection

I felt my arms and legs moving without my consent. I followed helplessly along, taking a walk around the room and towards the window. The drapes billowed free and my hands opened the window.

"Stop", I pleaded hoping to appeal to her maternal side.

I can't have you saying such terrible things to my husband and breaking windows.

In the dark I could see myself opening the windows, the bars were still on either side. Gently I lifted my right hand and placed two fingers on the  window sill.

I struggled inside myself I couldn't even close my my eyes or look away. My left hand was already on top.of the window.

Waiting

"please please please . .  .I'm sorry Grandmother. . please, no", I begged wishing I could at least blink.

The window came down with extreme force, if no one could hear me scream then, then know one would ever find me.

I nursed 4 broken fingers that night

+4+

Mr. Fierro

I had heard her screams  that  night, being tormented relentlessly by a cunning poltergeist.

Was she so foolish ?

Ms. DeLune had an inability to mold to social situations. She knew the limits and continued to break them. Logical she deserved to be punished, in reality it created a problem, a problem that lead to another sleepless night for myself.

 If Ms. DeLune did die, by accident, would that entitle Lucie to completely consume her body ? Did Lucie know this ? Is that what she was waiting for ?

 The tires screeched and I was pressed against the side of the car as Mr. Ciani made a sharp turn.

"Almost missed the turn, sir", he explained.

Outside, the looming residence of the DeLune family estate came into view. Generations had been raised in that home. Out front a French, Italian and American flag flew at half-staff outside.I had been called to the DeLune household without an explanation .  I hoped Lucie did not further torment her granddaughter while I was away.

Once inside, I realized it was the first time I have been alone with Ms. DeLune's mother. There was something timeless and youthful about Mrs. Clair DeLune. Despite circumstances she remained hospitable.

 “Y-You live alone ?”, she said.

 “Yes.”

To my count I had been invited into the DeLune home for 14 minutes without so much a word as to why.

 “The way my husband speaks of you. . . you seem so much older.”

 “Yes, I suppose that is true”, the tea was weak with milk, just like her daughter took it, “Although I have a staff on hand.”

 “Do you know if any of them have. . . seen my little girl ?”

 “No.”

 We continued in silence for a few moments.

 “Do you have any family ?”, she asked

 “No.”

 “You don’t give much away do you?”

 “I'm afraid there is not much to give, Signora.”

She set the cup down and  reached for my hand.

 “II wonder if my son will grow up to be a man like you or any man. . . really”

“Son ?”

 She looked down and smiled shyly.

 “Did Clara know ?”

 She shook her head.

 “Hm”, she stood up, “The way you say her name, I don’t know..it’s  nice. “

 She left the room at the exact moment her husband entered. They briefly comforted each other before crossing into separate rooms.

“Sir”,

“Let’s get down to it”, he said, “You said if there was anything you could do to help. To let you know."

 “Of course sir”, I feigned sudden interest in the tea

 “I’ve been talking to some friends in law enforcement, they think if we offered a reward it will help bring Clara home.”

 “Surely and adequate reward should not be hard for your family treasury”

He was silent

“Look we’ve all got out issues with the economy and all, that’s a man’s own business, are you willing to help ?”

 “What of Mr. Thorpe. Surely he is invested in finding his future bride ?", I found those words unusually bitter.

“He’s put up a half a million. It's all he can spare”

 Martin’s actions spoke all the words he could not.

 “How can I help ? Surley there is enough in the DeLune Family coffers. Unless that is a front ?"

 “I’m talking about my daughter here, my little girl. Things have been hard.”

I had been so far from sympathy

 “Marrying you daughters to wealthy men is an admirable way to supplement an income”, I began to think aloud, “. . .For the sake of propriety I will  to double Mr. Thorpe’s offer.”

 Martin was a proud man and accepted without pause.

“You know my father was a 2^nd generation here, leaving France was the biggest mistake they ever made”, Martin continued wallowing, “you know where the classical musicians are in America, Mr. Fierro ? Hollywood. you ever been to Hollywood”

 “No, sir”

He picked up the framed photograph of his daughter, it belonged to a matching set of his other daughters.

 “I don’t just want her back. I need her back."

Needed her back for financial reasons ?

I'd often berated Ms. DeLune bout her Grandmother's love of pretty little things. It seemed to a family obsession. Of all the pretty little things the DeLune family had-- the youngest DeLune daughter,by no personal preference,was the prettiest.

Clarabelle

Beautiful Clara

I found my checkbook and Mr. DeLune thrust a pen into my hand. I took out my own. It was the same pen Clara had written her undelivered letter.

"I expect to be paid back."

"Of course", he answered timidly

"Keep this", I offered him the pen.

. I watched Martin as he glowered at the photo of his daughter, his misery exerted to its extent. 

I thought of Roger DeLune. The tourture he must be enducing knowing his Clarabelle is alone and missing. His health was failing, so I imagined him remembering and then forgetting that she is missing over and over again. Roger was being tortured in the way I had been. But maybe not eough.

 I studied the generations of the family posted along the wall. How easily Mr. Thorpe would fit into such a prominent family legacy. I imagined his picture along the wall, proudly displayed. 

How many ways were there to make his family suffer ? I could take everything from them like Roger had done to me so many years ago.

+5+

exorsit theme

The house on the lake suddenly held a purpose for me now. I ordered Mr. Ciani away and located a few items around the house; red paint, a brush, a camera. I climbed the steps towards the west wing. The room never seemed so far away. I opened the locks quickly and found Ms. Delune, still on a heavy supply of pain medication ,unconscious on her bed clinging to her bandaged fingers.

I placed her across my knees  tilting her head to expose her neck.

It really was shameful how some feeling triumph others.

Ms. DeLune didn't flinch as the thin paintbrush coated in dark red paint touched the delicate skin of her neck, her hair rested on my shoulder her lips were so very close  and inviting even if she were struggling to breathe. I was careful not to choke her, still it had to be in exactly the right spot.

Once finished, I laid her gently back on the bed almost as if she were a fragile flower. Taking the camera from the night stand I carefully framed and photographed her.

I spent  the night in seclusion of the greenhouse store room developing the film, as the photograph became clear the message branded on the girl was visible. I planned how I would drive hundreds of miles  out of the way to deliver the message to the DeLune Family.

A message to haunt Roger DeLune.

A message written across his granddaughters beating artery. The same artery he had struck and killed me with.

Ultio