Chapter Forty
Kolfina
When I open my eyes, I am not in the gardens as I expected.
The comfort of my familiar madness is settled in my bones, and yet there are no towering hedges, no cliff, no ocean or chateau. Instead, there is my music room. My attic.
My cage.
At first I think it a dream. I do not recognize the books on my shelves, the titles looking more like misshapen letters meant to look like words.
Like a child trying to mimic their parent’s writing.
The walls stretch so far into the sky that I cannot see the ceiling, and the lights are dimmed, just bright enough for me to see around me, but not enough to light the room entirely.
Dust covers every surface of the room, coating my piano in a thin layer of grey, and the cello hidden in the corner of the room is broken at the neck, the strings twisted and tangled around themselves.
It is almost like my garden, in a way. My madness is a hedged maze, spinning and swirling, a constant search for an exit I can never find. This place is not so different, really. No matter what I do, no matter how far I go, I always end up right back where I started.
And there, sitting on the piano bench, fingers gently brushing over the keys and yet leaving the dust untouched, is the woman from my visions.
She is a rotting corpse here, just as she was down on the ocean floor.
Dirt clings to her greying skin, her hair is waterlogged and missing great chunks that look torn right out of her scalp.
There are great gaping holes in her face and chest, eaten away by the fish and sea creatures that still writhe beneath the surface of her.
It seems a horrible way to live, and yet when she turns to face me, she smiles with lips painted with seafoam and salt. My necklace still sits around her throat, untouched by the rot tarnishing her soul. I wonder if it weighs as heavily for her as it does for me.
I don’t quite know why I am here, walking inside her madness. All I know is the anger and bitter grief that consumes me. All I know is the sound of her voice as she throws herself into the ocean’s embrace and the sound of Walden’s lies as he tried defending himself against her death.
“You did not sink,” she says proudly, appearing before me in a blink, her fingers cradling my face. “You did not sink, little one. Do not let yourself do so now. You are stronger than he is, you only need to prove it.”
“How?” I ask, and for once, there is no water or petals that fall from my open mouth. “I do not know what to do.”
“Yes, you do.” My reflection smiles at me, her one remaining eye shining with something I have felt so little of in the past twenty years.
Hope.
Before I can stop myself, I find my hands wrapped around her throat, my fingers bruising a new collar across her pallid skin.
She does not fight back. She does not kick or scream, does not claw at my arms or gnash her teeth.
She simply smiles at me, her hands still holding my face, gentle as the morning sun.
The room grows darker around us. Slowly, my garden begins to take over, the ceiling cracking and groaning as vines begin to push through. Moss grows over the piano top, roots break through the wooden floor, wrapping around every surface they can reach.
“You are still here,” she croaks out, her eye fluttering shut as she draws a rasping breath. “Show him.”
I’m here. I grin at her with a mouth full of sharp teeth, my jaw cracking loudly as I open it wide enough to devour her. I am here, and I refuse to leave again.
Between one blink and the next, I am back in the dining room.
My husband is collapsed on the floor in front of me, eyes wide and frightened as I stand above him. He scrambles back into Mr. Allard’s legs, jolting in surprise when the man does not budge from his position.
It is in this moment that I realize, for the first time since I met Walden de Klein, this is the only time he has actually seen me. The only time he has looked upon me and known that I am real, that I am a person and not a sacrifice for his sick, selfish needs.
My heart beats in my chest, and I take a breath.
I am alive.
And this time I will not be going quietly.