Page 72 of Fragile Wicked Things
"This is all it takes," I said, my hand tightening around the branch. I swear there was a moment when I thought I could thrust it deep into her heart.
She laughed at me and said, "Do it! Murder your love. Live in loneliness again."
"You were to end my loneliness and my torment, not bring me back to this. We must be careful, and should you continue this way, I fear it will not be safe for either of us." I dropped the branch and turned away from her. In a whisper, I said, "This is not what I wanted."
"No, but this is what you deserve. Your family..."
I pounced on her before she could finish, grabbed her by her hair and dragged her towards the castle. She dug her nails into the palms of my hand until she broke skin and blood seeped out, dripping down towards my wrist. Still, I would not let go and held on tight even when she fell to the ground among the twigs and pebbles of the grassy path. Blanche ridiculed me with her demoniac laughter and an uncontrollable anger grew out of me. I pulled her up violently, forcing her back on her feet to show her who held the power and would not have her vocalize my secret back to me.
Long ago, the castle held prisoners, and often, when I wished to escape others, I would venture into the dungeon, welcoming the quiet solitude it offered me. Now I had another use for it and I pushed Blanche into the cell, held her against the stonewall, shackled the chains around her wrists and ankles, then pulled at the manacles to ensure they would hold. In anger, she shouted profanities and lunged at me, but when she saw I was out of reach, she calmed down, and a smile sprang to her face. She touched her index finger to her lips, licked it playfully with her tongue then thrust it in and out of her mouth. Blanche ripped open her blouse and played with her breasts, then dropped down to her knees.
"What nasty thing do you wish to do to me, my Lord?" She writhed around on the filthy floor and lifted her skirt. "Beat me. Hurt me. Oh, don't make me beg. Make me scream."
I looked on in horror and stumbled backwards against the cell bars. "My God, what have I created?"
Then I bolted from that place, through the forest, and headed west, not resting until I came upon the water where I first met my angel. How could this be happening when she was so innocent, having been educated by the nuns? Yet, when I first tasted her that night, I knew she wasn't pure. I traveled toward the convent and had to see for myself the place she once called home.
The nunnery was surrounded by a stonewall and, as far as I could tell, had only one gate. There in the gatehouse, I saw a light flicker and could see the outline of a man's body slumped over in a chair, heavy snoring emanating from him. He wore a guardsman's uniform, but it made no sense to me that a convent should have a guard. I stepped into the gatehouse until I stood next to him. A little sniff was all it took to recognize his smell, a scent I had once detected on Blanche.
Turning from him, I looked to the stone dwelling that did not house the servants of God, but his insane children, some violent in nature. Blanche was but a mere child when she gave the dead bird to her father and I suspected she had been sent there following the incident. Without question, this guard would let Blanche out in exchange for favors, and each night, she returned to the asylum, knowing she had no other life. Along came the great Lord Rochester, with promises of a better life, promises of true love, of eternity and she accepted, although she was not of a sound mind.
The decision was made then to leave, never to return to the dungeon that held my tormentor captive. I picked up supplies, horses, and a driver from the village and headed south. Blanche was left behind, but she had awoken the beast inside me. I left a trail of death as I traveled from village to village, carefully choosing those who would not be missed.
I lived the life of a nomad, homeless and alone, weaning myself from my murdering inclinations, which allowed more time in between each kill. But kill I did, never stopping. Each time I felt I was in control of the darkness, I found myself in another ale house, looking at another barmaid, wondering what she would taste like.
This continued for many years, decades until I grew tired of the traveling and running and settled back home in England to a place called Thornfield Hall, which I had inherited from the Earl. He had spoken fondly of Thornfield but could not bring himself to stay once his wife passed away.
Life was peaceful there, and I understood why Earl Rochester chose Thornfield as his home for his wife and son. The happiness they felt while living was held captive within the walls of Thornfield. For the first time in many years, I thought I was home.
One night years later, I returned home to find a disturbance at Thornfield. A bloody trail led from the front door into the hall where several vases had been smashed against the wall, landing on the floor, pieces of glass scattered. The trail led into the drawing room where a fire blazed and empty wine bottles were splayed about the floor. The sofa had been moved to a spot in front of the fireplace, its backside towards me, and a hand popped out over the armrest to pick a bottle up from the floor. The liquid swished as she took a swig. Blanche. She had escaped and found me.
"It's customary for one to be invited into one's home," I said, sitting in a chair where I had a good view of her.
"Edward!" She turned to me and flung herself over the armrest, on her belly, legs bent at the knees and her toes pointed up. She was naked. Blanche held the wine bottle out to me. I took a drink then passed it back. "Don't tell me you believe in such folklore. We can cross any threshold. Besides, I knew my lover was impatient to see me. You are happy to see me?" She pointed her face down and pouted.
"Of course," I said.
Blanche did not seem to remember the circumstances surrounding how I had left and proceeded to tell me of her woes, confirming that I had been correct in worrying about the villagers and the missing who grew in numbers. A small group searched the woods for them, came across the castle and, surprised to find it empty, were concerned that something was not right. They found Blanche locked away in the dungeon where she spun a tale about a murdering, thieving gang who took the servants and killed them. Offering them a plausible scapegoat, Blanche was safe from their scrutiny. A villager had told her I purchased horses and hired a driver to head south and they considered me lucky to have left the castle before the murderers arrived.
"And now I'm here," she said, finishing her tale. "Oh, Edward, there's a whole world out there. I've seen things I never thought possible. I've done things so naughty they even surprised me."
I smiled as she spoke, always weary of what she would do next, wondering why she was at Thornfield. Flipping over on her back, she stretched out on the sofa like a cat and brought her hand to cover her yawn. She stood and came towards me, hand outstretched.
"To bed," she said and I led her upstairs into my room.
I could have cast out the devil, but she swore she would not stay long and she kept her word. Every few years, she returned from her travels, regaling me with stories of her conquests, reveling in the gruesome details. I longed to be with her, and she felt this longing. With each return, she brought me a young woman who she would meet on her travels, cunningly separating the young women from their traveling companions. Fools. They believed themselves safe within the walls of a Lord's home, but they were wrong for I had allowed Thornfield to be desecrated. With each departure, it grew harder to return to the light and, oh, how I wanted it, how I wished for peace, how I wished to no longer be a bearer of death.
One night, I set about to London, searching the immoral parts of the city, waiting for someone I knew would not be missed, when there she was—young Catherine. I had come upon a distressing situation. Two men had killed her mother, and harm would have come to that young girl. I saw in her my own daughter and she awoke something within me, something that had been dormant since I first turned. I swore at that moment that I would protect the young girl.
When I returned to Thornfield with Catherine, Blanche had returned again. I saw the way she looked at the young child, with such a jealous rage. She looks at you that way too, Jane.
Catherine and I fled Thornfield. I threw Blanche to the wolves, but somehow, she escaped, fighting her way against the men who were sent out after her. I had seen a fire, heard gunshots and believed her dead, but that was not to be so. I could no more free myself from Blanche than I can my own daughter who haunts me still, who calls my name in the middle of…Never mind that.
We set out for America from England, where I honored my promise to care for Catherine. I watched her grow from an innocent, sweet child into a good woman. I spoiled her—oh, how I spoiled her! My love could have anything she wished. Catherine had awakened my humanity, and it was easy to control the darkness with her by my side. As long as I was with her, I never killed—almost never.
Things grew dangerous in New Orleans, so I sent Catherine away when she was a child. While we were apart, she grew into a woman and returned to me as an unrecognizable beauty. Catherine made me a man and I loved who I was whenever she was near. Thoughts of her marrying and leaving Thornfield scared me and I feared the monster would return. I lay awake most days contemplating what would happen to me. The more I feared this, the more I held onto her, which, eventually drove Catherine away.
By the time she had run off with James, I realized I had been in love with her. It was more than jealousy. I sensed he was not right for her, however, she could not see him the way I did and she left me. My heart had been ripped out, and for months I was tortured, not caring that the darkness was returning, lost in my despair. The darkness controlled me and twice I drank more than I should have and the killer was back.
