Madeline Usher's Tale

Chapter Six

“The disease of the lady Madeline had long baffled the skill of her physicians. A settled apathy, a gradual wasting away of the person, and frequent although transient affections of a partially cataleptical character were the unusual diagnosis.”

                                                                         Chapter Six

 Whenever I have looked in a mirror I see two Madeline’s: Mirror Madeline and Regular Madeline. Mirror Madeline is sad of eye, shoulders lowly set. She is afraid of Roderick. She is afraid of Usher Manor. But Regular Madeline has a spark of defiance in her eyes and a conniving smile on her lips. She is not afraid of Roderick. She is not afraid of Usher Manor.

That is how I often felt about myself after the night Roderick had attacked me. I always felt like two people. I could only see my other self through the mirror. Mirror Madeline would stare back at me and smile as if she had a hidden secret. She pushed me to be brave. But when I would turn from the mirror, I would lose her, only to turn back towards the mirror and see Regular Madeline starting right back with fear in her eyes.

Nine years went by and never once did Roderick force himself upon me again. I knew that he was tortured by what he had done: ashamed, guilty, and disgusted with the sinful act he had committed with his own sister. I kept my anger, fear, and sadness buried deep within. I knew to lash out at him would cause him even more pain, let alone put me in an unbearable position. He was still my brother after all, and I couldn’t hurt him any more than he had all ready hurt himself.

We tried not to talk about that day nine years ago. It was best left unsaid. Every now and then, maybe at breakfast or when we were sitting quietly in the library, we’d both look at each other and know exactly what the other was thinking. I’d see his disgust and he’d see mine.

But Roderick’s desire for me never vanished. I was the one thing he could not have. Everyday I was in his presence and I could see his determination to drive away his lustful thoughts. No matter where we were located in the house, sometimes I could feel his eyes on me without turning to catch him doing so. There was a particular feeling that crept all over my body whenever I sensed his eyes on me. My skin would suddenly turn cold, even on a hot summer day, and my back would tense as if preparing for his touch. I had grown scared to turn a corner and run into him.

Several times a week he would ask me to sleep in bed with him. All he wanted was to be near me and that was enough for him to feel satisfied.

But some days I wasn’t so lucky. Sometimes the feel of my back against his chest wouldn’t be enough. If Roderick had a particularly stressful day, he would tell me to face him. He would move one of my hands under the covers, slip my hand in his trousers, and force me to please him that way. We would lie side by side, breathing in sync as I did the deed. Occasionally, Roderick would perform the same act for me, lifting up my nightdress, touching me until I pushed his hand away.

During times like these, I loved to imagine Mr. Kennedy as Roderick. All I had to do was close my eyes. With his face in my head it made the situation more tolerable. I felt as though I was invading some portion of Mr. Kennedy’s privacy whenever I imagined his body pressed tightly next to mine. It felt indecent.

Sometimes we’d even kiss. I preferred the kissing to touching if I had to choose. But through the kissing alone it would sometimes be too much for Roderick and I’d eventually end up on my back with him on top of me. When it reached the point in the kissing that I could no longer breathe, I would bite roughly at his lips, drawing blood. He would take this as his cue to get of me and roll over to his side of the bed.