Toxic Tales

Blood Red Part 5

I despaired for weeks over what to do now that I knew the truth. I thought first of telling my husband, but I knew he wouldn't believe me. His love for his only child blinded him to her faults, and she was careful not to behave strangely around him. The servants might have an easier time believing me, but even they might find it hard to swallow that a six-year-old girl could have murdered her mother without batting an eyelash. I prayed desperately to the spirits of the Queen and my mother, hoping they would provide some sort of guidance. None came.

The dark voices from the pit of my soul were awake again, and as I'd go about my business I'd hear them whispering viciously in my ear:

You brought this on yourself.

That child may have darkness in her heart, but so do you.

She heard your darkest thoughts, and brought them to fruition.

Responsibility for the Queen's death rests solely on your shoulders.

The King took notice of my disquiet, and tried to help. "Is there anything I can do, my dear?" He looked at me so lovingly, I found it hard not to confess everything to him.

"Oh, I wish you could; but you wouldn't believe me if I told you. It is too horrible...too disgusting..."

He wrapped his arms around me tightly. I began to sob. The agony of what had been weighing on my mind for all these years became too much.

My husband, kind and loving, held me for as long as I cried. He didn't ask any more questions. He patiently waited for me to calm down, and when I did, he looked into my eyes and said tenderly, "There is nothing you cannot tell me. Perhaps things will seem brighter tomorrow after a good night's rest. Then, you can tell me, and I promise not to judge or condemn you. I love you, and I always will."

My love and gratitude for my husband nearly drove me to tears all over again. I thanked him for his patience and agreed to explain everything the next morning. After he bid me good night, I went to our bedchamber. Already, I was feeling more relaxed and reassured; once I explained everything to him, with the hope that he would continue to believe and trust me, life would be peaceful once again. Perhaps we could find ways to help Snow with her condition and live happily ever after as a family.

***

I woke up about an hour before dawn. Looking beside me, I was surprised that my husband was not in bed. I put on my dressing gown and went out to look for him. I checked the library, the throne room, and the kitchens, but he was nowhere to be found.

I started to feel uneasy. Where could he be? If he had been called away on some urgent diplomatic issue, he would have woken me. Maybe he didn't want to worry me...but at the very least, he would have left a note.

As I looked up the darkened stairs, a sudden thought occurred to me, accompanied by a wave of nausea. I made my way slowly up the stairs and walked towards Snow White's chamber.

Her bed was empty. It hadn't been slept in.

My vision went blurry as I began to panic. What had she done now?

My heart stopped when I heard a dull thud. From my bedchamber.

I ran towards the noise. Once I'd pulled the doors open, I screamed.

Snow White was there, standing over my husband's body. He was lying in the same position as his wife after her death, in almost the exact same place on the floor. His eyes were open, a look of terror frozen on his face. The pool of blood beneath him was slowly beginning to grow from the axe wound in his head. The crimson-stained weapon rested beside him.

Gasping for breath, I looked at Snow. Her face was expressionless, as was her voice when she spoke.

"This is your fault."

I ran to his body and dropped to my knees in despair, his blood soaking my robe and hands. Fear wracked my body as I looked back up at Snow White, trying to makes sense of what was happening.

"What—what do you mean? M-my fault? I—"

"You were going to tell him. You would have had me sent away. That would have ruined all of my fun. That's not very nice of you."

She spoke as though I had done something to annoy her. I stared at her in disbelief.

"You didn't have to do this, Snow," I said breathlessly. "I wasn't going to send you away, I promise, I wanted to help you—"

"It's too late now."

I sobbed further when I took note of the sinister smile forming on her face. "I am happy this happened. You would have ruined all of my fun, but now you're the one they'll send away."

I looked defiantly at my stepdaughter and rose to my feet. I refused to be defeated by a malevolent child.

"I'll tell them the truth, Snow White," I said, in as steady a voice as I could manage. "The servants will believe me; I was once one of them. I love you, my child, but I refuse to allow you to do this to me. Your fun is over."

Snow's evil smile grew wider. "You're wrong. I won. I set it up so they can't say I did anything. I will leave now, screaming for help. They'll see you standing here, covered in his blood. I had George, the guard, write you love letters. They're in your closet. He promised me he would tell everyone you agreed to kill my father so you and George could be together. No one will believe you."

Snow White walked slowly around the growing pool of her father's blood and walked toward the door. I stood there in shock, terror coursing through me.

Before she left the room, she turned back to me and smiled. "You better run."

Chuckling evilly for a moment, she walked further out into the hallway. Suddenly, she began to run and scream, "HELP! HELP! MY FATHER—SHE KILLED HIM! HELP!"