Redwitch Manor

The Death of Four

This episode might be triggering for some! I don't know. It's pretty wonky and weird but the topic of suicide and death of a loved one is brought up in this chapter a bit. I don't know. You tell me. Does that count as triggering?

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The days just kept going by. One after the other. Before I knew it, three miserable months had gone by. I had become cold, colder then ice, and I seldom came out of my room at that point. Only when Mother forced me to be social or when Father invited me for tea in the garden. Moving had become more difficult as my bump grew larger.  I was apparently seven months along now and my stomach was huge. I often stared at myself in the mirror for long periods of time cursing myself for getting into this mess. The thought of death no longer became a fear, but a friend and I realized that death might not be such a bad thing. My father soon returned to France for some business and that left me alone. My hate for Beth grew stronger everyday. The times I did come out my room to talk to Gregory or some other servant I saw them prancing around, kissing, laughing, sharing personal jokes. I think what hurt me the most is that she seemed to be happy. I haven't felt happiness in a long time.

"Miss, I have some urgent news for you!" Rosalyn startled me out of my solemn stupor. "Sorry I didn't mean to startle you! Er, her ladyship needs to see you downstairs immediately." I nodded. I adjusted a thin robe around me, frowning at the large bump.

Once I reached the room I found it in near complete darkness. Just a dimly lit candle by the table where Mother was sitting. She was in all black and she had a depressed look on her face. Her eyes were cast down her hair was in a tight bun. She didn't look up when I entered the room. She reminded me of myself at the moment. I soon came to the realization that she was crying. That startled me. Mother would never cry. She was one of the strongest people I knew. She always held her head up and never gave a damn. But here she was. She looked so fragile and helpless.

"Mama..." I trailed off. I didn't know where to begin. If something was troubling her then it would definitely wreck me. I sat in the seat beside her and placed my hand on hers. She was shaking slightly. "Mother," I tried again, my voice more firm, "What is it? What's going on?" She looked up at me.

"He's gone." She said barely above a whisper. Who was gone? Who had left? It didn't make any sense.

"What ever do you mean? Who's gone? I don't understand what you're saying." I said in a shaky voice. She didn't reply. "Mother, who is gone? I need to know. I need to know what put you in this state. Mama..." She let out a gut wrenching sob.

"Your father. He's dead. He died. He was drunk, that damn bastard. He went off prancing with some pretty French flower, like always. But this French scum was also married. The husband walked in on them and shot them both. He got what he deserved." With each word her voice got stronger and her tone got colder.

"But, Mother, you really don't believe that! I know you and I both hated his behavior when he was in France, all those parties, woman, and alcohol, but we know you still love him. You loved him. I know you're lying when you say he got what he deserved." My voice wavered and I felt the hot sting of tears reach my eyes. But that wasn't the only thing that stung. I felt a gloved hand slap across my face. The pain was great, but the person, and reason, that it was done hurt more.

"Get out you wretched whore. You think just because you're seeing the bad end of the world you know my mind. I never loved him. I hated him. You didn't know but he hurt me. He hurt me in ways unimaginable. Ways I hope you never experience. But you were the result of those awful hurts and memories. Now get out! Before I slap you again." I stumbled out of the room, bemused. What did she mean?

The emptiness that grief gives you soon filled my heart. I found myself sobbing in the parlor. I didn't care what my mother said. He was still my father. I loved him so much. And he was dead. And I'd never see him again. So far my life has brought me so much tragedy: one after the other.