Mina ✓

•|chapter nine: the memories of the dead [1882]

The darkness seemed to be never-ending.

And he, Johansson, had been completely enmeshed in this impenetrable abyss. There was seemingly no end nor any beginning to this blackness and the only thing that kept him from assuming that he was dead was the constant murmuring of Paisley beside him and her hot, rapid breaths falling upon his neck.

He wanted to open his eyes. Desperately. He disliked this darkness with every passing minute, fear grew in his spirit which raised his heartbeat. Yet there was this external force that forced him to keep them shut, a force he deduced to be the prowess of Paisley.

Another few minutes passed away, when suddenly the darkness s to grow lighter. It turned grey and a misty white smoke infiltrated Johansson's vision. Low moaning and hissing sounds filled his mind, making his skin crawl in discomfort. The darkness grew lighter and lighter until at last, he could make out a distinct scene from it.

It was the chateâu's living room but devoid of all its lovely colours. It was just a plain black and white scene, a strange kind of blurriness evident in it. Johansson felt as if he was looking into someone's mind; a memory he was seeing through the eyes of someone else.

The living room was not empty. It was occupied by his brother who stood facing back the viewer and two strangers he had never seen before. One was short and lanky with cunning eyes while the other was taller and burly and had a patchwork over one of their eyes.

They were dressed in sewed raggedy clothes and at some of the places the sewing was falling off. A frown emerged on Johansson's forehead. He failed to understand why his brother had brought such questionable people to their home.

"Here it is," he heard his brother speaking. "Take it and deliver it directly to them. It contains the complete amount."

"Good gracious, Mr Jonathan Andras Sir!" Exclaimed the burly man, taking the briefcase from Jonathan's hands. "It is so heavy! Did you have to sell off the entire---" he stopped mid-sentence as the sound of a flower vase crashing to the ground resounded. Immediately Jonathan Andras turned around, his eyes locking with that of the viewer. An uncanny demonic fury burned in his eyes, something which Johansson had never seen before.

The scene changed. Johansson was transported to a small bedroom by whose bed stood Felicity Rose and her sister Paisley. Despite it being late at night, Felicity was dressed in evening wear alongside a thick woollen cardigan. A look of intense fear and anxiety was evident on her face. She fiddled relentlessly with the folds in her dress, subsequently biting her lower lip.

"Where are you going, Felicity?" He heard Paisley questioning her. "It is so late and so cold!"

"I am to meet Mina," answered Felicity. "I have to speak to her."

"Can't it wait till the next morning?"

"No, it can't, Paisley." There was such a tone in her voice that Paisley immediately went quiet.

"And if anything happens to me, " Felicity began, her throat trembling like the window glasses on winter nights. "Do not waste time and immediately go and warn Mina. She might be in grave danger."

The scene changed again. This time Johansson was sent to the middle of a deserted field, which he identified as the abandoned farmland near their chateâu. His blood and bones chilled instantly as the contents of the scene became clearer.

Laying upon the grass was Felicity Rose, the ends of her evening dress torn and her cardigan had lost a few buttons. Her hands were raised in defence whilst tears ran down her cheeks. The lanky man from the first scene was here as well, inching forward towards the helpless girl with a sadistic grin displaying his rotten teeth.

"Please...Please leave me alone!" She said, folding her hands. "Please do not kill me! Please do not!"

"Little Miss, you must have known before committing the act," the man replied, his voice husky and drunken. "It is not good manners to interfere in matters of privacy. Now, both you and your friend are going to die!" His hands closed around her neck. A sickening crunch was heard soon after followed by a soul-tearing shriek. And then reigned silence, complete silence.

"NO!" Johansson screamed, opening his eyes. He was back in the graveyard with Paisley beside him yet the impacts of the memory were not to go away anytime soon. His breathing became deep and hard, his chest heaving up and down with each exertion. His heart was a tangle of veins that jumped like a lunatic within his ribcage while desperate tears pricked at his eyes.

Felicity Rose had died alone.Utterly alone and helpless. There was no one to save her, no one was there to heed to her screams. Only the winds whooshing past powerlessly witnessed the horrific scene, the night sky was its testimony. There was no family around her, no one who loved her. She had died at the hands of a drunken man after fighting as much as she could to protect herself, to save her life. But she had failed. Felicity Rose had died alone.

"Control yourself, Johansson," said Paisley, putting a comforting hand upon his violently shaking form. "It is not your pain, not your grief. It is just a memory, a hollow remnant of the past. Do not linger on it." In spite of it, tears streamed down her cheeks.

"She die-d alo-ne," moaned Johansson, voice choked with tears. "So mer-ci-leesly. N-o on-e was there." He broke down into loud, noisy sobs filling the silent graveyard. A thick blanket of despondency had descended upon them, a melancholia heart-wrenching.

"It is over, Johansson," Paisley gulped down her tears. "My sister is safe. No one can harm her anymore. Never again can they harm her."

"But what if the same had happened to Mina?" Johansson turned towards her, eyes reddened. "Oh god, oh god, I can't imagine!" Breaking down the barriers of anger he tightly embraced Paisley. She stiffened for a while before returning it to him.

"All will be well. Do not cry." Paisley whispered into his ears, words of false consolation.

But she who knew the truth prayed deep in her heart that Wilhelmina's death had been much swifter than that of her sister's.