The Aftermath

Chapter twenty-six

*DON'T OWN THIS GIF!*

Lucille and Thomas watched harmoniously as their mothers blood seeped down the wound on her head to the warm water she was trapped in.

"What are we waiting for?" Twelve-year-old Thomas whispered to his sister, who's glare was transfixed on the circle window above the bathtub.

Lucille's voice was merely heard, it was only because of the height difference that Thomas could hear what her reply was, "the black moths to take away mama's soul."

Thomas nodded, turning his head away from Lucille to his mother's blank face. Her eyes were glassy - open - but staring into the void, unmoving. Her skin was too pale, bones vividly clear. Her grey hair mixed with blood, the large weapon stuck at the top of her head.

They waited for hours but no black moths came for mama's soul. Abruptly they heard voices from the hall, someone was here. Lucille grabbed Thomas' hand and together they sprinted up the many more stairs to the attic - Lucille's shelter. Thomas let go of Lucille's hand and watched as Lucille frantically opened a drawer on her desk and pulled out a long strand of grey hair - mama's.

Lucille could hear the screams, knowing whoever was in the house must have found mama's body - she must be quick. She plaited mama's hair and placed it in the drawer, then rushed off towards the bathroom again. Thomas followed silently, both of them hiding behind a corner, watching Finley and another maid running out the house to call the police.

"Follow me, and whatever you do, do not get caught," Lucille watched as Thomas nodded. Together, they ran inside, Thomas waiting at the door - on watch if anyone was to return. Lucille ripped the weapon from Beatrice's head and turned away, running out the room, Thomas on her trail.

They ran down the stairs to the clay mines; Thomas watching in fascination as the crimson clay oozed out of the holes and walls. Only did he hear the sound of a brick being moved, did he look down and see Lucille hide the murder weapon underground, placing the tile over.

Lucille stood up and held onto Thomas, her eyes puffy from crying. "Thomas, my darling, look at me," he did, "the police will come, don't tell them anything, say there was an accident, anything but what truly took place this night."

Thomas nodded violently, to only gulp loud and hard when they heard more noise upstairs. Lucille dragged Thomas upstairs, towards the main hall where they saw Finley, a maid and five other policemen talking quietly. Only did they stop when they saw Lucille and Thomas walk down the stairs to meet them, did Lucille not know that she was never to see Thomas again.

It all happened so quickly. Thomas was to be sent to his aunts house far away from Allerdale Hall, whereas Lucille was to be taken further away to an institution in Switzerland - but she knew deep down what kind of institution she was to be taken to.

The moment she arrived, her head was aching from the uncomfortable travel and noise, her corset was split and stretched from Lucille's struggle to return to her precious Thomas. It was the early morning when the carriage halted at its destination; a bleak morose stone structure loomed outside in the intense atmosphere, mist wavered and shifted gradually like a snake.

Nothing about this was enchanting or charming. The moment the carriage door opened, two tall men mumbling to each other in Swedish escorted her out from her arms towards the residence. Barefooted they hauled her into the terrifying construction, her feet was dragged harshly along the ground - the gravel on the ground cutting her toes and feet, producing blood to layer over her porcelain feet.

Nearer and nearer, colder and colder Lucille was to the institution she could hear the screams. Would she be one of those screamers soon?

They pulled her up the steps towards the two giant doors which were previously opened, with a priest and nun waiting. They discussed in Swedish, a language Lucille might as well get used to now she was to stay here for lord knows how long.

The two men agreed at the priest and nun's orders and commenced to carry her, of course, Lucille persisted back with every fibre and ounce of her being. It was only when they carried her, struggling to hold her, did they ultimately tie her up to the wall and strip her of her clothing did Lucille rapidly freeze on the spot.

Anxiety hastened through her body. Her breath frantically hammering in her throat and lungs. Lucille tugged at the ropes that secured her hands and feet, she craved the shield herself from these two men who were staring at her naked body.

Only when the door opened and in came a nun did the men stop staring and cast their eyes to the ground. The nun was the same one waiting for her to arrive; her hair was tucked away in the headpiece, a large cross necklace was hanging between her breasts. Her piercing eyes roamed Lucille's body, smirking a little at the startled look on Lucille's face.

"My name is Sister Alberta," she spoke naturally, she sounded foreign but yet she knew English.

Lucille didn't reply.

Sister Alberta merely smiled, "we are here to help you. To revive you to your once healthy self again." Next she nodded towards the two men, they both shifted and bowed their heads in reply. Only one strolled over to a large black pipe, he switched the nozzle. Water ruptured out from it, immersing Lucille's body in ice cold water.

This cruelty proceeded on for two hours continuous. Lucille untied from her bonds and taken to a room with rows and rows of bathtubs. The water was scarcely warm and a thick fabric connected to the end of the bath kept Lucille within securely. She was kept watch by a guard, who just stared blankly at a wall.

After a long half an hour of sitting in the water, Lucille was taken out and dried off - Sister Alberta handed her a plain white gown and dried off her hair using a towel. Lucille followed Sister Alberta to a room filled with other patients. Feeling out of place Lucille walked over to a single chair in the corner of the room, near a table with a chess board - but no one was playing. As she walked by, she felt eyes on her, everyone in the room observed as she took the seat. Only when she sat down did the eyes stop and carry on with whatever they were doing in the first place. 

Lucille turned and watched the many guards beside each of the exits - if she made a run for it, surely she would get caught but she could always try, maybe at night she could-

Suddenly everything went quiet when Lucille looked up someone was staring at her. His eyes were dark brown as was his hair; which was neatly combed back...he had quite a beautiful face. The moment Lucille's eyes glared into his, she blushed bashfully to which he frowned at her.   

Immediately Lucille turned her head away from this stranger. Hoping he would become uninterester and move on.

Suddenly a chair scraped loudly on the ground, the stranger sat directly oposite her.

"I haven't seen you here before," he spoke, american, low toned, it was nice.

Lucille kept staring at the barred white window, fully aware this stranger was speaking to her.

"Not talking?" He asked.

No reply.

He growled a little, over exaggerating, "at least tell me what your name is? My name is Ashton...if you're interested..." No reply, "aha, clearly not."

Ashton blew his hair from out of his face, he began tapping a beat with his feet, humming a tune.

Suddenly a whisper stopped Ashton from his tune. He froze.

"Lucille, my name is Lucille," she whispered, barely even audible.

Ashton smiled at Lucille.

"I'm going to call you Lucy."

Lucille for the first time smiled back.