The Endowment of the Red-Eyed Demon

Chapter 12

The house was quiet. I lazed about for the rest of the day, searching through the books in the library, warming myself by the fire. I quite enjoyed it, and once I had finished my bottle of Red Wine and those awful Beers, I slept another peaceful night.

I waited in the house, waited for Violetta. She had promised to join me, and I trusted her to be there any day.

I thought it to be her on that final Tuesday, when I heard the beating of hooves upon cobblestone. But it was not. It was a group of men in black on horses. It was the policemen.

I answered the door to them, they didn't even need to knock.

"Ah, you've arrived," I greeted them, "You've no idea what I've had to deal with! But you're here now, and you can take the mess upstairs away."

I expected for them to listen to me. But they didn't. They instead detained me, thinking me the criminal and not the victim.

"What are you doing?" I asked, "It's not me you want! You must hear my story, I'm hardly responsible!"

But they didn't want to hear my protests of innocence. They took me away and they locked me up. They were going to put me on trial, try to get me hung for the death of my brother and mother. They chose not to; they put me in the asylum instead.

And in the asylum I have been for years. I've lost track of time in here; I don't know how many years it's been. I believe it to be 10.

They buried my mother in her pearls. Julius was buried in the plot beside our parents. Amos won't see me, he won't even send a letter. Except for my nephew, James. He writes me letters all the time, I don't believe his father knows. I tell him of my times in the manor; he believes them to be stories.

But even after all these years, I still know that what I saw was true. I can't explain it, but I know every moment of it was real. It had to be. My uncle saw it all, too, before I ever had.

After all, it was hardly my decision to be just like him. And it was not his decision to be like his father. And it will not be my nephew's decision when they do the same. And they will do the same as long as the manor stands.

And the manor will continue to stand, that I know. No one will ever burn it down. And even if they tried, it would be useless. Skhizein Hall had stood before me, and it'll stand long after me. Skhizein Hall had never had any reason to be. I know that my grandparents ordered it's construction, but still, it was as if the manor had simply came into being. I'd sooner believe that lava had spewed from a hole in the green grass of the countryside, molding and shaping itself into the white stone walls before I'd believe that someone had truly wanted it built.

But still, it stands. And I'll remain there, at Skhizein Hall, forever.