Page 217 of Naughty Nelle

“Go on,” says Shrink, her voice still showing no emotion.

I find myself talking in present tense, the words crawling out like shell-shocked warriors.

“Suddenly, the chamber door slams open and a voice screams out, ‘How dare you wreck my life, you rotten little witch!’ My mother! Her bulging eyes fixate on me like a cobra ready to strike. The King rolls off me and—”

Crack!The sound explodes in my head. A razor-sharp pain rips across my chest. And then another loud crack, this one more agonizing. I clench the worn arms of the chaise, my body writhing.

“Jane, tell me, what’s going on?” Shrink’s voice cuts through the memory and pain.

“My mother…she’s whipping me with The King’s thick leather belt, the one he tore off his robe and flung to the floor. With every strike she hisses, ‘Witch! Witch! Witch!’”

Shrink lets me take a long pause, then asks, “What did The King do when your mother attacked you?”

The scene unfolds in my head as I recount the nightmarish events that follow. “The King, regaining his senses, struggles to wrestle the belt away from my mother. Then a tiny porcelain figure, lit up by moonlight, runs into the room and cries out, “Papa! Papa!” Snow White. The King’s precious three-year old daughter. To my horror, my mother swings the belt at her. Crack! The helpless child cries out in pain. The King, horrified, lunges at my mother to try and stop her, only to be whipped by her himself. Snow White wails louder, and I run to her side. To protect her. My mother charges toward me, wielding the belt. Prepared for the worst, I huddle over Snow White. But just at that moment, a large man bursts into the room and takes the blow for me. Saving me. His eyes meet mine, and I recognize him immediately. He’s the bearded man with the knife I encountered in the forest not long ago.”

“Who was this man?” asks Shrink.

“The King’s Huntsman.” I do not tell her about our previous encounter.

“The same Huntsman you sent to kill Snow White?”

I nod weakly.

“Jane, are you okay?”

The madness of that night swells in my head. I press my fingers against my pounding temples and muster the strength to continue. The scene plays on despite how much I wish I could pull the curtains on it.

“The Huntsman, undeterred by my mother’s wrath, pounces on her, knocking her to the floor. ‘Take her away,’ commands The King, holding the still sobbing Snow White in his arms. The Huntsman yanks my mother to her feet, gripping her by both arms. The enraged King confronts her: ‘If I ever see you again, I shall destroy you!’”

Shrink gets in a question. “How did your mother react?”

I close my eyes and knead the back of my neck. The memory of my mother fighting The Huntsman as he hauls her out of the castle fills my head. Kicking. Clawing. Howling. Foaming. She’s become a monster.

“She says one day we’ll all be sorry,” I say, reopening my eyes.

I’ll never forget the venomous look in her eyes as she hissed those words. Never.

“Did you ever see her again?” asks Shrink.

I shake my head. I was happy she was out of my life.

Shrink heaves a sigh. “I must admit it’s quite a page-turner of a story. What happened next?”

My sobbing subsides a little, and I switch over to past tense. “I married The King.”

“Why?” asks Shrink, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“I had no choice. I was carrying his child.”

“His second child,” notes Shrink. “What happened to the child?”

Sadness sweeps over me as I remember the pain, the blood…so much blood. “It was a very difficult birth. I survived, but the baby, he died.”

I sob heavily again, burying my soaked face in my hands. My poor little baby! I held him for only a minute. But I’ll never forget the touch of his dewy skin or his silky curls. Or the heartbreaking expression on his tiny face that cried out for life, not death, as the midwife pulled him away.

I don’t know long I’ve been crying when Shrink’s voice sounds in my head. “So, Jane, you lost The King’s son. His only heir. How did he feel?”

I raise my head slowly, remembering how much I wanted The King to hold and comfort me. Instead, he ranted, blaming me for the infant’s death. And then he punished me.

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