The Dark Of Our Worlds

All Consuming

When Lorelai woke up she knew where she was, but not how she had gotten there. She had no memories from the past week, the last thing she remembered was stumbling across Cairnholm in the middle of the night. She looked around the room; pale yellow walls, writing desk, clothing rail, window - She was in Miss Nuthatch's loop, in the same room she had awoken in after she ran away. 

Her head was throbbing. She stood up, or tried to. Failing to realise she didn't have legs in that moment, she collapsed to the ground in a heap. Her head giving a particularly painful pang. She transformed, grasping the side of the bed and pulling herself to her feet. There was no ensuite, so she made her way across the hall to the closets bathroom in hopes of waking herself up and downing a few painkillers she hoped were still stored in the cupboard. 

There were no children upstairs. She wondered what time it was, how long she'd been asleep, and what the hell she had been doing for the last seven days. She stumbled into the bathroom and over to the sink, looking into the mirror above it. 

Blood. 

Oh my birds there was so much blood. 

It covered her mouth, chin and teeth, dried and horribly dark. It was even in her hair. 

***

The first alert the crowd downstairs got to the fact Lorelai was awake was a guttural, horrified scream. Emma and Olive, who had been sat together in a wide armchair in the far corner of the room, looked up at the ceiling. The other children, who were sat on the floor, unsure of what to do with themselves, looked at each other, slightly scared. 

"Don't worry" Miss Nuthatch, who had been cradling the sobbing Alma, said "I'll go"

Alma nodded, wiping her eyes on the back of the borrowed hoody's sleeve. She hated crying in front of people. Even when Victor died she had forced herself to sob quietly into her pillow in the night so her children wouldn't hear. But she couldn't stop herself now. Enoch was gone. Another one of her children was gone. She had failed them, again. 

Miss Nuthatch stood up, placed a hand on Alma's shoulder momentarily, then walked away up the stairs. She found Lorelai very easily, simply following the sounds of someone hyperventilating. 

She pushed open the bathroom door. Lorelai was curled in a heap on the floor, knees to her chest, hands clutching her hair as she rocked back and forth. She was mumbling under her breath; no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no. no.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Fear was completely consuming her. She didn't even notice Miss Nuthatch was there until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Lorelai looked up.

"What have I done?"

***

"No..."

It was all coming back to her in a flood. Three ships. Alma's loop. Hundreds of men. The second ship. A boy. Barely eighteen. Their throats. Blood. Warm and trickling down her fangs. Nuthatch's loop. The tiny boat. Emma. Olive. Alma.

Enoch. 

She let out another hysteric scream, digging her nails deeply into whatever of her own flesh she could find. She wanted to rip herself apart. Destroy herself. Remove herself from the world, so she would never be a threat to anyone. She couldn't live with herself. The guilt was all consuming. The most disgusting part, to her at least, was the fact she felt better, stronger, as though she had feasted after years of starvation.

Miss Nuthatch held on desperately to Lorelai's wrists, trying to pull her off herself, but it was no use. Lorelai was too strong. Blood was pouring from her arms onto the white tiled floor. She was wailing, flailing about like a captured Orca.