Page 47 of The Spiral

“I think she’s trying to come home, through you.”

“I’m not her, Jack. You know that.”

“Aren’t you?” he replies, as he arrives in front of me, a wry smile creeping up his jaw.

“No. I’m Madeline, Jack. I’ve never been her, nor will I ever be her. One life of a lie is plenty enough for me.” He chuckles slightly at that then turns away, back towards the treehouse.

“And yet you’re still here, Madeline. Why is that?”

“Because I can’t leave.” He looks over his shoulder at me, showing me that frown again.

“You can,” he says, pointing over towards the left of us. “The road is just there. All you have to do is walk through those trees and you’ll eventually reach the road you came in on.”

I smile at him, knowing full well that if I really wanted to that’s exactly what I could do. I could walk further, eventually find a signal I’m sure, and then call recovery to come get my car. It’s a simple solution. One that doesn’t involve any of these bizarre happenings, and one that would have me back to the world of rebuilding my dream before I know it. Simple. He knows it as well as I do, but I haven’t gone yet, have I? He’s right.

Why am I still here?

I smooth over the long satin negligee, smirking at the notion of it in this scenario. It’s as ridiculous as the thought of ghosts, but I’m not denying it anymore. Something is alive here, something that’s not quite right. Us, the ring I found, the visions of Selma and the frigid air that follows her everywhere. And I know things inside me. I do. I understand something I can’t quite place my finger on yet. I feel like I’ve lived here before, loved here and run these fields without a care in the world.

We both know that without any discussion on the matter.

“What’s in that room, Jack?”

“Death,” he says, no hesitation in the delivery.

“Why can’t I see it?”

“Selma can. Madeline can’t. It’s none of her business.” I scowl at him, displeased with the answer but unable to find a sensible comeback to force him to tell me anything. “Come here. Let’s see if we can make her come to us. Get her inside you again. ”

My feet lift without any real protest, some errant call inside me making me unsure if it’s me or Selma responding to his order. Either way, the walk to him feels as calming as it usually does, the strange pull coercing a closeness we shouldn’t have.

“Can you climb in that?” I look down at the negligee, not knowing if it will stop me climbing or that fact that I haven’t climbed a thing in years.

“Where?” He nods up the rickety steps into the treehouse, his tongue rolling over his lips as he does.

Shivers ride my skin the moment his hand braces my back, forging me towards them without bothering to wait for my answer, and I gasp as my foot hits what feels like ice on the first step. I shoot away from it, fear lacing the next step forward. “Keep going, baby,” he says, pushing against me until he’s behind me and forging me upwards again. Baby? I turn to look at him, unused to the term as it comes softly from his lips. He just nods again, pushing on my coat to get momentum out of my feet.

“Jack, I don’t think this is sensi—”

“You’re right. It’s not, but I want to fuck again, and I want to do it up there.”

My feet immediately stop, my head whipping round to look at him with shock written all over my face. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s the crudeness of the statement in the middle of this glade. He smirks, apparently not a care in the world as he nods onwards again. “I like fucking you.” For the life of me I can’t stop my responding smile as I watch his eyes harden a touch, nor can I stop my own eyes looking over his frame again. “Always have done, baby.”

I turn again and keep climbing, confused about the last of his words but unable to stop my need to climb with him. It’s like something inside me is taking over again, showing me a path I’m unable to veer from. And each footfall becomes colder, my toes scrunching beneath me to try to alleviate the sensation.

“Cold,” I stutter out, as I reach the top and gaze around, pulling my coat closer in to shield myself.

“Take it off,” he says, holding out his hand. “That’s how we get her here. The cold.”

Part of me recoils at the idea, and yet another part welcomes the thought. I wish I understood that more clearly as I part the fur and let it dangle down my sides again, the collar falling to my shoulders.

“You always were so fucking beautiful.”

A tear wells in my eyes as I watch him slowly peel the side of the coat away from me, some part of me wanting the feelings he has to take hold and claim this moment. He believes all this so much, doesn’t he? Needs it even. I can tell by the reverence in his gaze, the near worship of his movements as he backs off to look me over.

“Jack, I…”

“Sshhh.” He discards the coat and moves back in front of me. “No more questions now. We’ll do what we did best. Here. With Lenon.”

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