Beyond the Veil

INTERLUDE : 1965

SONG RECOMMENDATION: Beautiful Crime by Tamer

     Mary Cowan rarely had good intentions, but she nearly always felt guilty about sneaking off campus afterwards.

In her defense, it started innocently enough: James Elder had invited her for dinner together on the green, and they snuck out of their rooms at lights-out and met at the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. From there, they traversed off campus to enjoy the quiet of the forest that lined the school. It was a wonderful evening, and Mary would look back on it fondly even after all that had happened since.

After the date, she had giddily snuck back to her dorm and vowed to herself that she'd sneak out again soon. The rush of adrenaline that accompanied breaking the rules had always appealed to her, but she'd never given into it before then. It was electric, knowing you were doing something concretely wrong and not getting caught.

And so began her obsession with leaving the grounds.

She didn't mean to spiral, but soon she was disappearing for hours a day into the woods that lined the school, exploring and wandering until she lost track of time completely. Even worse, her excuses were getting flimsy, the way they did when you used them too often.

"I was in the library" didn't work anymore, and "I slept in accidentally" sounded fake even to her.

Mary couldn't get enough of it, but she couldn't stop.

And then it happened.

It's funny how certain events can split time into Befores and Afters. When Mary's grandmother died, when she was sent to Brookewell, when she snuck out for the first time-- these incidents were all milestones, good and bad. She supposed it was the same with James.

She had snuck out again, this time at around midnight. The night air was cool and inviting, and when she heaved the school gates open, she could practically feel the thrill thick in the breeze.

She was halfway into the woods when a twig behind her snapped.

Mary wasn't paranoid, exactly, but she was always anxious about getting caught. Sure, it was part of the fun, but she wasn't sure what she'd do if she were expelled from Brookewell.
She whirled around, and almost lost her footing when she came face-to-face with James Elder. As she regained her balance, he sighed irritably. He looked almost mad.

"I know what you are doing, and I wanted to let you know that you need to stop. This is dangerous--"

Mary scoffed. "Oh, really? Well, someone's got a flair for the dramatic, following me out here instead of just telling me in class himself. I don't need a lecture from you, James. Are you forgetting who suggested we ever sneak out in the first place?"

He clamped his mouth shut, and she smirked knowingly. Although James could be a bit of a hypocrite, in that holier-than-thou sort of manner, he would never disrespect a lady. That didn't mean he wasn't angry, though; she was well aware of the rage simmering beneath the surface. His eyes glinted menacingly in the near-darkness of the woods, illuminated only by the lantern he'd brought along.

"Now run along before someone catches you out of bed, James. You wouldn't want to get in trouble," she mocked.

"Fine. But when you get expelled, don't come crying to me." He turned sharply on his heel and stalked away, and she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something was off, and it wasn't just James' attitude.

The air, which had been refreshing and clear mere moments ago, was growing heavy and humid. Brookewell was nestled in the secluded mountains of North Carolina, and the air was normally perpetually crisp. She knew it was strange at the time, but she fought down her worry. The late hour and her fight with James was making her think irrationally.

Mary lingered for a moment in the middle of the forest, then hastily decided to make her way back to the school grounds. It was too chilly out anyway.

As she trudged through the woods, however, she lost track of where she'd come in. The trees all looked the same in the near-blackness of the night, and James was long gone. Mary forced herself to breathe. She had done this countless times before; she could get back to the gates with no problem. She just had to keep going.

So she spun in a circle, picked a direction, and started walking in a straight line. She had to reach the edge of the forest if she just stayed on a certain path. That was how these woods worked, and Mary knew that better than anyone.

As she broke into a run, however, Mary began to realize that she was only going deeper into the wilderness. She stopped suddenly with the intention of surveying her surroundings, and her nightdress caught on a tree root, sending her sprawling.

Mary landed hard in the rocky soil, and she suppressed a yelp of pain. Being weak had gotten her nowhere in the past, and it wasn't going to help her now.

It was only when she'd gotten to her feet that she saw it.

The figure was mere feet away from her, dressed sharply in all black. Mary willed herself to stay calm. Maybe this stranger could be of aid to her.

Her gut told her otherwise.

They mirrored each other, both standing stock-still, waiting for the other to make a move. The figure inched forward, and the moonlight above shone through the trees, casting a shadow over the right side of his face.

"Hello, Mary," he snarled. His voice was jagged and hoarse, and it made her blood run cold. She fought down a scream as her heart thudded mercilessly in her chest. The panic was creeping in now, and old friend greeting her. It settled in her gut, a nest of unease that made her voice shake when she spoke.

"Who the hell are you?"

She could feel his breath, hot and rancid, fan across her face. Mary shuddered. She should have stayed in tonight, or followed after James, or never started this ritual of leaving campus in the first place. Her eyes began to water, and she bit her lip to keep from crying.

He laughed bitterly, and Mary recoiled.

"You've got a sharp tongue for a lady," he sneered, and snapped his fingers an inch from her face.

The pain was scalding, white-hot and sudden. It exploded in her temples and creeped down her neck into her shoulders, igniting in her chest and slithering down her arms. It was all-consuming, and Mary felt the trees and dirt and the sharp stench of blood begin to melt away. As the forest around her faded, she just barely made out the last words she would ever hear.

"Didn't they teach you not to sneak out at night?"