Nightingale

Chapter 27

Ten minutes of silence had passed. Fable was staring at a cream-coloured rug on the oak-wood floor; the light pattern on it becoming abstract and blurry as the tears clouded her vision. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know if she could ever look up from this floor again. The gravity of her shame was leading her eyes downwards, and it felt impossible to make eye contact with Mr Hudson, who was now clearing his throat in preparation for yet more terrifying questions...

"The more I think about your powers, and how you have used them so far, the more I realise all the destruction you have caused," began Mr Hudson, whose face was strained in consternation. "It enhanced your singing voice too, didn't it – these powers of yours? Nothing but a cheat."

Fable felt her cheeks sear. She probably looked hideous right now; red and blotchy, with salty water oozing out of every orifice. She was starting to wish the owl had ended her wretched life back in the field. This was torture. Fable gazed back at Mr Hudson through her pale, metallic eyes, finding the courage to reveal to him their dampness; the gleaming pools of liquid silver – their sadness about to pour forth and overwhelm the world. She noticed this had no effect on him. He didn't care about those devastating eyes. She could tell, all he wanted was the truth...

"Yes," whispered Fable, her voice almost silenced by the lump in her throat, "Yes, I cheated to win the singing contest. Yes, Rachel was robbed because of me. Yes, I lied to everyone. And you know something else?" asked Fable, with the crazed eyes of someone with nothing to lose.

"Oh? There's more is there?" challenged Mr Hudson.

"Yes, and here's the funny thing. Looking down at this bland rug of yours, it kind of reminded me of a similar rug, belonging to someone equally as dull. That girl, Maria, well, I'm sure you remember her and how things ended so very strangely between you two... Well, I turned into a nightingale, flew into her house, and I completely trashed the place! Had to make sure she would never speak to you again!" squealed Fable, breaking out into hysterical laughter.

Mr Hudson was dumbfounded. He stared at the young girl, half-lying on his sofa, who was barely able to lift her head, who was bound in white, bloody bandages, with wild and teary eyes, and could not think of a word to utter. She was alarmingly cruel, he thought. He let the truth soak in, and suddenly his fury was starting to build. Fable was taunting him. Her lack of care for anyone but herself was infuriating. He needed to lash out at something. A big, glass frame came crashing down from a wall; the hundreds of shards smattering all over the floor. Fable's eyes widened with shock as she watched his fist emerge from the glass, covered in bloody scratches.

"Wow," she said, pausing for a brief moment, thinking of how she might respond to this act of violence.

"You might think I'm devil-spawn right now, but I don't care any more! I've told you everything and you give me nothing! You like me too, I know you do –even if I am just a schoolgirl. I have seen the way you look at me. I came into your life to make you happy, and maybe I just ruined it instead. I am deluded. Everything I did was immoral. But, everything I did, I did so you would know I love you!" wailed Fable. "I didn't want anyone or anything to get in my way! You will never understand the lengths I would go for you!"

Mr Hudson stared at his fist, which was still shaking with fury. He could not believe the audacity of this girl, but somehow he felt she was right. She was pouring her heart out to him, and he wasn't admitting a thing. "You know why I like the Nightingale poem so much?" broached Mr Hudson, who had let his initial anger subside somewhat and had entered a more contemplative mood. 

"Well, it's precisely because the speaker understands the deadly costs of believing in your illusions. Perhaps I have imagined us; it would be difficult not to notice your obvious beauty and charms, your talent, your intellect... But then I have to wake up, I have to remember, the reality is so different from the fantasy. I don't have feelings for you like that. Genuinely, I do not. In my fantasy, you are not you. You look similar, sound similar, but you are somebody else, older, wiser. You inspire my vision, but you are nothing more than my muse – nobody I could love with the way things are. And now I have fully awakened to the sad truth... Fable"

Fable was staring out of the window, stony-eyed and no longer teary. Mr Hudson was frightened by her blank expression. Finally, she spoke.

"Then I can say nothing more. I have been honest, I have confessed. I will always love you – even if you hate me... I am leaving this world forever... don't worry, you will never have to see me again. I may be alive, I may be dead... my life hangs in the balance because of this regrettable love I have for you. When I'm reported missing, don't breathe a word. Let me die, and let your memory of me die with my sudden disappearance." whispered Fable, who was crawling to her feet.

She half-hoped Mr Hudson would try to stop her from leaving; that he would come running after her in a fit of passion – maybe even spin her on her toes to kiss her. But the air was stale. The flame of her hopes and dreams had long been extinguished.