Crimson Peak [COMPLETE]

Chapter Seven

After tea, Christian and I retired to our chambers for the night.

I was exhausted and fell asleep rather quickly. In my nightmare that night, I was alone in the house and it was sinking into the red goo underneath it. The house shuddered around me, shaking as we were pulled into the clay. It creaked and groaned as it was pulled into it's foundation and I knew that if I didn't get out soon, I'd be drowned as well.

I turned and saw the door not ten feet away from me. All I had to do was get to it before the clay sucked up the rest of the house. I started to it and was so close I could almost feel the fresh air hitting my face, filling my lungs.

And then something snagged my skirts, stopping me in my tracks. I yelped in surprise and looked down at whatever it was. It was a hand, red and skeletal--not at all alive. I screamed again and jumped back only to be tripped by another long fingered hand.

I fell backwards and the hands trapped me, pinning me to the floor. They clutched my arms and legs, creeping around my torso. They wrapped around my throat and covered my mouth, cutting off my air supply. I struggled, trying to get up off the floor and get outside. But there were so many hands. I couldn't breathe and my lungs were burning.

That was when I woke up. I sat up in bed, gasping for breath and fumbling around on the bed side table for a candle and match. All I wanted was to have some light and know that those hands weren't real.

"Rose?" Christian's sleepy voice came from beside me as I managed to strike the match. My shaky hand brought the flame to the candle wick and I relaxed a little when the candle proved that there were no hands. It was just me and my husband. Christian sat up and put a hand on my back. "Rose, are you alright?"

I shook my head as the tears welled up. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to hate this house or be scared of it. I really didn't want to be scared of it.

I only realized I was shaking when Christian wrapped his arms around me, kissing my temple and pulling me into him.

I felt safe with Christian, I really did. But all I could think about was Thomas. What had happened in this house? Where had his sister gone? And what about Edith Cushing? Where was she now?

I kept thinking about the nightmare as well. Somehow Thomas and the red hands trying to drown me in the house were connected. I knew they were, I just didn't know how. Not yet. But I was determined to figure it out.

"Rose? Were you listening to me?" Christian asked.

I looked up at him and he smiled at me. I could see the pity in his eyes.

"Was it a nightmare?" He repeated himself.

I nodded and Christian hugged me again.

"I'm so sorry, Rose," he whispered. "But you're alright now. You're safe."

I knew he was trying to help, but I got chills as he spoke. Was anyone safe in Allderdale Hall?

* * * * * * * * * *

I woke in Christian's arms the next morning, with sunlight streaming through the window and the candle on the nightstand melted down to a stub. I was warm for probably the first time since we'd moved here and I liked the feeling.

I didn't move as Christian continued to snore softly next to me and smiled to myself. I couldn't have asked for a better man. He always took care of me.

"Rose."

I froze. Not again. I could already feel the chill from the night before, the black hand clutching my shoulder as I was paralyzed in fear.

"Rose." I realized then that this voice was different. This wasn't the raspy woman's voice from before.

I managed to peek over my shoulder and saw Thomas standing in the doorway, waving frantically for me to get out of bed and go to him.

I glanced back over at Christian. I wanted to stay and just be with him. But if I didn't figure out what was wrong with this house, I would never get to just be with him.

I pushed the blankets off of me and slowly slid out from under his arm. He didn't wake up as I got off the bed and grabbed my robe to put on over my night gown.

I followed Thomas down the hallway and up to the old workshop. I thought he was going to take me back to the bedroom but he stopped there. Now that I could get a better look at it, I saw that the things strewn over the tables were you parts. Doll heads and Jack-in-the-boxes.

"What is this place?" I asked. I was whispering even though we could speak normally.

"It was my workshop," Thomas explained. He was speaking almost as quietly as I was. "I built toys and trinkets for Lucille up here."

"What happened to Lucille?" I asked, taking a cautionary step towards him.

Thomas held up his hands defensively. "You have to understand that I wanted no part of this. I never wanted to hurt any of those women. But I did love Lucille. And she loved me. We only had each other and I thought that I could live like that. I would do anything for her, anything she asked. And she didn't always ask for good things."

"That doesn't answer my question, Thomas," I demanded, getting frustrated now with his avoidance. "What happened to Lucille?" Thomas didn't answer right away and I tried not to lose my patience. Whatever had happened had obviously been rather traumatizing, something he didn't want to really thing about so long as he didn't have to.

He sighed, looking down at the floor. "I killed her." He looked back up at me, tears streaking down his face. "I killed my own sister, Rose. I loved her and I killed her."