Story to be retold: Psyche and Cupid
Genre: Mystery/Thriller
June 10, 1915
We all have secrets; some are big while some are small. There are people, too, whose lives revolve around such that every turn reminds them of the dark past.
I, too, have my own, and it is buried at the mansion on the hill.
I first arrived there when I was 22, year 1863, to live with a man my family had me married to. I hadn't met him then; all I knew was that he was more affluent and powerful than our family, but less was known about him for aside from a couple of house helpers he lived alone and never socialized with anyone else.
People said I was lucky. I was no royalty but being his wife was almost equivalent to one what with all the riches that he owned. I deserved it, they said; it was a match to my beauty, they even added.
I never believed them for I know how hypocritical people can be. They will shower you with praises, and then stab you with hurtful words once you turn your back.
I knew of the whispers the wind carried. Rumor has it that the man do not show his face for he is a monster, both in looks and in heart. That my family was willing to gamble my life and safety for my marriage would affiliate it with him, thus enabling my family to have more power in the society.
I knew the truth to this marriage, however. It was a conventional way for my family to relocate me and had me kept in a place far from them.
You see, my family has many secrets; some of those are the things that I did and the things that they did so it wouldn't be known.
The mansion had a Victorian style to it: earth tone colors, bricked exterior, excessive metal trimmings and decorations, and lavish furniture. It was an emerging style back then and was a social status among people.
It was something my mother would have liked. It was too bad, however, that she wasn't able to visit me at my new home.
Two weeks after my arrival, my mother was announced dead. She had a grand funeral service, as per her taste in things. The white and gold casket was never opened though. It was kept closed all throughout. Not even her closest friends were able to take a peek. For privacy, my family said. They reported the cause of her death as heart attack.
Two secrets: the cause of death was a lie and so was the time of her death.
On the first few months at my stay at the mansion, I never saw my husband in daylight. He only shown himself to me at night and always asked to have the lights turned off. I always obliged and did what he wanted me to do. One rare times, I am able to catch a glimpse of him when moonlight was able to sneak in.
I wouldn't say that he totally ignored me. He always bought me gifts, fed me with exquisite dishes, and dressed me in the most expensive dresses and gowns. A messenger always came to me to ask me of the things I want or need. Whatever it was that I asked for was always given.
I was lonely but was somewhat contented then, until everything changed.
I woke up in the wee hours one night. As I didn't feel like bothering anyone else, I went to the kitchen to have a glass of water. It would have been a normal night until I almost slipped because of the blood on the floor.
I found blood trailing on the kitchen floor up to I didn't know where. With curiosity nagging me, I went to follow it and it lead me to the door of the basement which was off limits to everyone in the house.
I was hesitant at first to open it, somewhat fearful of what lied ahead. But what was there to fear? It was I; there was none. I opened the door and found the stairs that lead to a basement, muffled screams echoing down below.
I went down and was greeted with the sight of my husband torturing one of our house helper. She was reported missing some weeks ago, with people speculating that she ran away with her boyfriend who was in a travelling circus.
But alas, rumors were just rumors for there she was naked and bleeding, her stomach cut open.
It was also the first time that I saw him in full light. He was handsome I had to admit, and was wondering why he didn't paraded his face and handsome built unlike most men I knew.
I suppose my husband had noticed me for he turned towards me, his eyes measuring my reaction. I just shrugged and said, "I closed the door. And you should be more careful." And with that I left the basement. I grabbed a rug and cleaned the floor. I went outside to have it burned.
Another secret: he wasn't the only murderer in the mansion.
I went back to bed after that. I was already lulled into sleep when I felt someone climb on the bed. I turned around and saw my husband lying beside me.
"Who?" he asked.
It was just one word, but I knew the depth of the question.
"Many," I replied.
"They asked me to kill you. They know my... hobby."
I would admit that I never expected that. "Will you still?"
"I won't."
We were quiet for some time until he spoke again. "Why did you kill your mother?"
I turned towards him and smiled. He didn't even ask if I did, he just assumed.
Another secret about me: I did.
"She had it coming," I said. "She and I are alike in some ways. It was her or me."
He just nodded as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.
The next morning he was still beside me. I suppose he figured he and I were meant to be.
Our lives continued in that mansion for many years while others' ended there. Sometimes it was just he who did it; sometimes I joined him.
It went on until we got tired and decided to leave the place for good, to leave the place along with the secrets it carried.
That period has ended. And my husband and I are now somewhere else, living the rest of our remaining life span away from it all. Do not worry. It plays no more part in our lives now.
Signed,
P. C.
