XVII

Ember Returns Home

In the darkness of the night, the rain pouring down around her, Ember made her way to her old house. Her splashing footsteps echoed in the silent night, her clothes wet, Lysandra’s borrowed body drenched. In these small hours of the morning the streets were empty and even the roads were silent. Down these she walked, turning up into her own road, and through her own garden gate. Around her, the carefully mown grass and particularly trimmed bushes had exploded, becoming overgrown. There were vines on the house that wound their way over the bricked walls, clambering up the telephone wires.

She walked down the front path, and stood at the door. The lights were off, the curtains shut. She hammered at the front door, receiving no response. Undeterred, she carried on banging at the door till the blinds from the neighbouring house rose, and a ruffled looking woman in her nightdress opened the window, looking irritable.

“If you’re looking for Selina, she’s not here!” she yelled. “She hasn’t been here for months!”

Ember made her way across the garden towards her old neighbour.

“Do you know where she is?” she asked, her voice far too low, and too soft to belong to Lysandra.

“Try her sister-in-law’s place,” she snapped, rubbing her arms which were dotted with goose bumps. It was then she noticed the girl’s state, and how her hair hung down like a soaking mop, her clothes wet through. “Are you stupid or something? You can’t just wander around in the rain like this, you’ll get the flu!”

Ember looked down at herself, quietly surprised. “I didn’t realise it was raining,” she said, before adding, more softly, “Sorry.”

The apology was not directed to the woman, though she didn’t know this. She rolled her eyes.

“You’re not too bright are you child? Don’t apologise, just don’t do it! Now go home, before you catch pneumonia.”

Ember said nothing, and instead walked away, the woman closing the window with a bump and rolling down the blinds again with an impertinent toss of her head.

It didn’t take long to reach Andrea’s house, where the lights still burned in the living room through the gaps of the curtains. Her eyes fixed on it, she hurried up to the door, her breath ragged. She knocked on the door, and a few moments later, she heard the clanking of the chain, and it opened. Dark rings around her eyes, Selina immediately awoke, gazing down at her with shock.

“Lysandra!” she said, unlatching the chain. She swung the door open to let her in, noticing even in her tired state that her niece looked different. It wasn’t just her sodden appearance, but the new hazy sheen in her eyes, the different way which she carried herself. She seemed to dip in and out of reality, one moment unaware of her surroundings, the next her eyes darting around like a wounded doe’s.

“Lysandra, are you alright…?” she asked hesitantly, her hand lighting on her arm. Instantly, Ember seemed to come to, and her eyes locked on her mother, widening. She flung herself into Selina’s embrace, clutching onto her like a lifeline.

“Mum, help me…!” she whispered, her voice becoming screeching, high-pitch. “He still has me trapped, even now. He won’t let me go. He won’t let me. All- all these years… no rest, and no return.” Her hands shook, and she let out an earthshaking sob, pulling Selina closer to by the folds of her clothes.

“What…?” Selina looked at her in distress, her face jarred.

“Please…!” Ember sobbed. “You must- you must help me. Don’t you recognise me? It’s me, me Ember. But I can’t- I’m weak. Please, please save me.” She wobbled dangerously, and the light left her eyes. She crumpled to the floor, and Selina stood, staring down at Lysandra’s body with her mouth slightly open, unable to rearrange her features into any other shape.

Lysandra was stirring, feeling the other friendly presence ebbing away like the tide, leaving her more and more in control of her own consciousness. After a moment, she became aware that she was lying on the floor, and that she wasn’t in the hospital any longer. Unsteadily, she clambered to her feet, looking around at the hallway of her own house and saw Selina standing a few feet away from her. She looked quite unlike she’d ever seen her before, and on the verge of tears.

“Auntie, are you okay?” she asked. At the sound of Lysandra’s voice, Selina stepped out of her trance, and looked at Lysandra with a mixture of pure rage and disgust.

“How dare you?” she spat, making Lysandra take a step back. “Do you think it’s funny? That saying something like that is a great joke? That even after these six years, the pain still doesn’t linger? Get out! Get out of my sight!” When Lysandra didn’t budge, standing dazed, Selina grabbed her roughly by her shoulders and pushed her out into the rain. Without another word, she slammed the door behind her, and Lysandra heard the bolt sliding home.

The rain pelting down upon her already sodden body, Lysandra shivered, and drew her arms towards her. Standing abandoned on her own doorstep, she turned, and walked away.

*

Though she didn’t know what had happened, or what she could have possibly said, Lysandra couldn’t help but feel a cold weight upon her heart when she thought of what Selina had told her. Was it possible that Anastas could have possessed her again, this time while she was sleeping? From her aunt’s reaction, it certainly seemed possible. Though, at the same time, she had the instinctive feeling that he hadn’t. Just like when she had knocked out Zack, the presence that invaded her felt different. Both different, they had been more friendly, less intrusive.

Was it possible that somebody else could be possessing her, or perhaps, more than one spirit?

She didn’t even want to think about that. So she put this aside, and tiredly, made her way through the day. During visiting hours, Mary-Rose’s parents arrived to see her, and she dragged Lysandra down to meet them, not giving her any choice in the matter.

It was quite clear from just looking at them that they weren’t your normal working class parents. It wasn’t that they wore fancy frocks, or top hats or anything like that. But there was an air that hung about them, an air that smelled like money. When Mary-Rose introduced Lysandra to the, they greeted her eagerly, her father even shaking her hand.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” said Mary-Rose’s mother, beaming at her. “Our Mary talks about you so often. I’m just so happy she’s getting on with everyone so well!”

“Uh, great,” said Lysandra, standing awkwardly, Mary-Rose tugging her reluctant friend into a spare chair.

“Thanks to you, Mary’s so cheerful now. I really don’t know how to thank you for befriending her,” her mother said. “Soon, she might even be able to come home!”

Lysandra’s face drew a blank. “You mean she’s not normally like this?” she said, unable to keep a little bit of sarcasm from infecting her words.

“Of course she wasn’t,” said her father, looking bemused. “You don’t send your only daughter here when she’s perfectly happy, do you? She’s had some awful problems with depression.” From opposite the table, Mary-Rose shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Speaking of which,” he continued, “let’s see how those scars are healing Mary. Give us your arms here.”

Looking panicked, her eyes moving around as though searching for a way out, Mary-Rose seemed to resign herself to what was happening. She sighed, and put her arms on the table dividing her and her parents. Her tactless father pulled her sleeves back, revealing dozens of angry gashes tracing the way across Mary-Rose’s slender wrists. She looked away, her cheerful features sagging down.

It had occurred to Lysandra in the past that Mary-Rose always wore long sleeve tops or jackets, though she had never wondered why. If it had been the middle of summer rather than late winter, she might have done. But Mary-Rose had not been looking for attention, and she had hidden it well.

She supposed it was quite logical however; Mary-Rose’s father was right- you didn’t get sent to a mental hospital for no reason, after all. She had seen through Mary-Rose’s cheerful façade once, and after that, she had toned her hyper attitude down somewhat. However… she would never have thought that brave-faced Mary-Rose would be battling depression.

Looking down shyly, Mary-Rose couldn’t bring herself to meet Lysandra’s eyes. Realising that she was watching her, her cheeks turned pink, and she stared even harder at her shoelaces.

“Why were you so depressed?” she asked her.

“Just lonely,” said Mary-Rose, her voice low. “You’re my first friend Lysandra. I’ve never had one before.”

Lysandra turned on Mary-Rose’s parents. Her features were cold and hard, chipped and chiselled from stone. “Why didn’t you let her out?” she asked them, her tone just as rocky. “If you knew why your daughter was so sad why didn’t you try to help her? Just keeping her locked indoors isn’t exactly going to help her social life, you know.”

Looking indignant, Mary-Rose’s father eyed Lysandra. “I think I know the best way to look after my daughter- I would never do anything to hurt her,” he barked. He then turned his eyes tenderly to Mary-Rose, and spoke again. “Mary was bullied heavily in primary school- we had to pull her out. And the kids in the neighbourhood were jealous of her- they saw our expensive house and our car, and decided she wasn’t one of them.”

“They ignored her,” chimed in Mary-Rose’s mother. “They were horrid to her- we couldn’t do anything else.”

How odd it was, to face two grown adults, and listen to them trying to excuse themselves.

“That doesn’t matter,” said Lysandra, cutting across their reasons. “Everyone is bullied at school- everyone faces hardships… but no matter how hard they are, you have to push through them, and survive. If you can’t do that, you’ll never be able to face the real world. School isn’t part of reality- it’s just preparation for afterwards; you learn how to cope with hardships, and to tolerate the absurdities of life… sometimes it’s hard, but you can’t give up.”

As she said these words, she inwardly recalled her own time at school- her method of coping; blocking everything out. How she spent every break and lunch at the library, sitting in the corner with a book under her nose, but never really reading… The snide comments from her classmates that would bounce off her impenetrable shell, how she would pretend that they never hurted…

Mary-Rose’s parents, however, didn’t seem to have understood a word she had said.

“I have done my best for my daughter,” said her father imperiously. “If my Mary is bullied at school, then she shall remain there no longer. I won’t allow it. Coping with hardships… absurdities of life- what does that mean, in English?”

Mary-Rose, who had remained quiet all this time, now tugged down her sleeves, raising her shy eyes to look upon Lysandra.

“I think it means I’m running away,” she said quietly.

“Which is common sense!” exclaimed her father, looking at her daughter and Lysandra as if they really were mad.

“Sometimes you can’t run away,” said Lysandra. “No matter how hard it is, you have to stand your ground and fight. If you keep running- you’ll never get anywhere. You’ll end up alone, friendless-… just like me.”

In her mind, she saw a vision from her childhood; a picture book of Alice in Wonderland, Alice in her blue dress, the white rabbit, queen of hearts…

We often give ourselves very good advice, but very seldom seem to follow it…

Had she too, been running away all this time? Mary-Rose’s father was speaking again now, but Lysandra wasn’t listening. She looked down to the floor, and counted the square tiles of the lino. When she looked up she saw Selina standing awkwardly in the doorway across the room, her eyes begging for forgiveness.

*

“I’m so sorry Lysandra,” said Selina, her head bowed. They sat at their own table now, in the corner away from the visitors. “I shouldn’t have pushed you out into the rain like that- you could have got sick. I was just so angry… I thought you were playing games with me- pretending to be her, but…”

She paused, and looked Lysandra directly in the eyes. “I see now that you couldn’t have been. You didn’t know about that.” All of a sudden she became desperate, pleading. “The Otherworld you spoke of, Ember’s trapped there, isn’t she? She can’t get away…”

“That was Ember who possessed me?” asked Lysandra, still two paces behind in the conversation.

“You told me you were her… you asked for help,” said Selina, her face scrunched into a terrible expression of pain.

“Oh!” said Lysandra, as she realized what must have happened. Looks like I did contact her after all…

“She’s trapped…” murmured Selina, sounding agonized, “she can’t get away…he has her still…”

“Who?” said Lysandra.

“Anastas,” Selina whispered.

“What does he want with her?”

“To control her- just like he did when she was alive,” her voice was hardened now- resentful. “My husband was, is… a bastard. I didn’t realise it when I married him, and even after that, I was blissfully oblivious. It wasn’t until years later- that I began to notice…”

“He’s still here in the Otherworld,” Lysandra said. “You’re right- he didn’t go away. He’s the one who’s been possessing me these last few months. Dad says he’s trying to destroy us.”

Selina paled. “Lesley’s probably right,” she said. “Anastas always hated his brother- he always made that very clear. He must be trying to get to him by hurting you. To tear apart his family.”

“I never realised he was like that- when he was alive, I mean.”

“Oh yes, he did a very good job of hiding it,” Selina said darkly. “He’s manipulative, and clever. I was never his type of woman; he needed someone who would do his every bidding, who would duck her head and play the good wife. He chose me because I would be a challenge. He wanted to take me and mould me into someone else. To break my soul. He never loved me. And he never loved Ember, either. What happened to me doesn’t matter, but what he did to Ember I can never forgive…”

Lysandra’s voice was dry and cracked. “What happened?”

“He killed her.” Her words were hollow, and Lysandra felt cold.

“I thought… I thought it was an accident- she walked too close to the cliffside-”

“No- he pushed her.”

Lightning flared across the sky, Anastas dragging his nineteen-year-old daughter from the parked car. The worst storm that had hit England in years was beginning, and as he pulled her up the path the pouring rain started, coming on like a monsoon, drenching them.

“Let me go!” screamed Ember, as Anastas dragged her by her long dark hair.

“No!” yelled Anastas, his face red with anger. “I’ll teach you- you obey only me!”

He wrenched her up the gravel path that led towards the jagged cliffside, the land dropping away suddenly into the tumultuous ocean. Constantly she tried to pull away, but Anastas did not relent on his grip, ripping the very hairs from her scalp when she struggled.

They reached the cliffside, the wind hitting them like a hurricane, ripping through them and blinding them. It howled in their ears, the waves crashing like the thunder above.

“I won’t!” exclaimed Ember, pushing futilely at her father’s hands. “I have my own will. I am me!”

“You’ll be who I tell you to be,” roared Anastas. “Obey me- or die!”

Thunder rocked the world, deafening them.

“No, not anymore!” cried Ember, shoving him away, her beautiful face etched with an expression of pure defiance. “You can do what you want to me. I don’t care. I’m not afraid of you anymore!”

A flicker of shock flittered over Anastas’ face, before it was replaced with rage. Lightning crackled, and he took hold of her, shoving her straight towards the edge. But as she fell she took hold of the folds of his clothes, her face one of exaltation, and with her last moments she dragged him down with her. The thunder rolled out one final booming chord as they hit the rocks, the foaming waves smashing against the cliff.

In the present, Lysandra wondered what her face looked like; she imagined it must be ghostly pale, unless it was green.

“They had just gone out for a drive…” whispered Selina. “They didn’t tell me where they were going. When they didn’t come back, I called the police. They found the car parked by the cliffside…”

“But why?” said Lysandra. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“She… she defied him. I don’t think he actually meant to kill her- probably he just meant to scare her. She was his favourite doll, he wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t given him reason. She must have given a great show of defiance up there, for him to actually kill her.

“All this time I’ve thought that at least, she was at peace now. That after her terrible life, she would at least find solace. But…” her voice shook, “she still can’t get free- she’s still trapped, still in his reach. And now- I can’t even do anything about it!” She let out an awful dry sob, and pressed her face into her hands.

Lysandra had never seen her aunt like this; never before had she had never seen her cry. She rose from her seat, and knelt down beside Selina’s chair, wrapping her arms around her.

“He won’t get away with it,” she said, determined. “I’ll stop him- with my own hands. Now matter how hard it is, I’ll stand my ground and fight. I won’t run away anymore.”