Elly
THEN
White feathers, sinewy cartilage underneath. Sharp points; creature-like claws.
“That’s it,” Haina is saying, voice soft and soothing. “That’s it, my angel. It’s all okay now, just breathe a little.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispers. Then, with a sudden clarity, “I’m going insane.”
“The opposite,” Haina says, taking one of Elly’s hands in her own. “You’re finally seeing the truth.”
Elly lets herself be led back to the armchair, as if her body no longer belongs to her. She can still feel the echoes of her screams in the small room and wonders who else in the house heard them. A thought strikes her, making her skin prickle.
Even if they did hear her, no one came to help.
She sits but stays perched on the very edge of the armchair, in case she needs to run again.
There’s a faint queasiness in the pit of her belly, the disorientating sensation of just having woken up from a long sleep.
The light has changed again, falling sideways across Haina’s face, casting half of it in shadow.
Elly wonders how long she’s been in this room – and distantly, but with a distinct sense of alarm, if she’ll ever be allowed to leave.
She balls her hands into fists and then releases them, over and over, not quite trusting them not to betray her again.
Haina lets her settle, making notes in a journal on the desk.
For a while, there’s only the sound of the fire and the pencil scratching across paper.
Elly wonders if Haina is writing about her, about whatever it is that just happened.
She’s starting to think that Haina has forgotten she’s even in the room until she turns and meets Elly’s eye.
“You probably want to know where this house got its name.”
“What…” Elly stumbles over her words, unsure how to get them to obey her. “What happened? What did you do to me?”
“Most people think a hex is a kind of curse,” continues Haina, ignoring her, “cast by someone who’s been wronged.
And you know, they’re almost right.” She pours herself a measure of something dark and rich-looking from a decanter on the desk, offering a tumbler to Elly before thinking better of it, glancing at her belly.
“The word has lost its way over time. Lots do, you know. What ‘hex’ really means, is something, someone, very powerful. The form someone takes when everything about them has been broken and they’re ready to build themselves again.
” She inclines her glass towards Elly. “You just got your first glimpse of your hex. What you might be able to become.”
Elly’s gaze snaps back to her hands, and she’s relieved to still find them their own.
“Don’t be afraid, my angel,” Haina whispers. “Don’t resist it.”
Hex, a voice chimes, somewhere deep inside her. Hex.
Haina finishes whatever was in her tumbler in one gulp, then slaps both of her palms against her thighs, a sudden movement that makes Elly blink in surprise.
Haina reaches into her pocket, fishes out the study key then presses it into Elly’s hand.
It’s small and gold. “Time’s getting on.
We’ll meet again for our second session next week. ”
Elly guesses that she’s dismissed – really dismissed, this time. Haina has turned away from her, and Elly studies the way her hair twists together into a plait, a triplet of snakes, before standing. She makes her way to the door and lets herself out, leaving the key in the lock.
Has even an hour passed? Everything out here already looks different, vaguely threatening: the winding staircase leading up into the dark, the patterns in the floral wall-paper that could be simple swirls or hands reaching out to touch her.
The sounds of the house surround her, the same as any other house: the muttering of voices, the creaking of floorboards, the clattering of pipes.
But this house is not like any other, she knows that now.
There’s something deeply, awfully wrong with it.
Or there’s something deeply, awfully wrong with her.
Elly knows she should leave. She could walk right out the front door.
Coming here in the first place had been an act of desperate madness, of cowardice.
She thought she’d find solace, comfort, or at least safety here.
She isn’t quite sure what it is that she has found.
Her feet are numb as she climbs the staircase.
The few things she owns are in the shared dormitory.
She’ll collect them, and then she’ll leave.
She’ll go home and she’ll forget all about this place.
She’ll forget all about the way her hands had looked: mottled and feathery, like human skin never should.
There are around forty beds in the dorm, twenty running along each side of the room, one row facing the other.
When Haina had told her she’d be sleeping in the dormitory, Elly had pictured iron bedframes and stiff white sheets like something from a Victorian hospital, but this room is warm and cosy.
Shabby chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, and colourful rugs cover the hardwood floor.
The beds are large and wooden. Some are empty and stripped but most are topped with bedspreads, blankets and patterned pillows.
Many are neatly made while others look only recently vacated, cuddly toys abandoned in the rucked-up sheets.
Every bed has its own bedside table. Left alone to settle yesterday, Elly had examined each one, trying to piece together an idea of the owners from their contents: packets of cigarettes, old books, notepads, lipsticks with blunted ends, tampons, sweet wrappers, half-eaten slices of cake, half-drunk cups of tea.
She’d dreaded the first night, sleeping amongst all those strange bodies.
To her surprise, she’d fallen asleep quickly, but noises in the dark had woken her: muffled chittering, the sound of nails on wood.
A rhythmic scraping on the roof above their heads, like something trying to get inside.
When Elly gets to her bed, she reaches for the bundle of things in her side table.
Her silver watch and pearl earrings she puts in her pocket, and her dirty wedding dress she presses to her face, breathing in the smell of the woods – earth, cold air, sweat – and the lingering after-breath of perfume.
It makes her think of her wedding day. It makes her think of bruises and crackling songs on the radio and running, running, running.
There’s no point trying not to cry. What will Ethan do when he sees her?
She can already hear his voice, sharp as gravel.
She can feel his hands. Maybe he won’t be able to hold himself back this time.
Maybe she deserves whatever’s finally coming to her.
A soft creak behind her makes her jump. Elly turns to see Margot, soil streaked across her forehead, wild hair restrained by a tie.
“There you are, Little Mouse! I’ve been looking for you.” Her high voice makes her seem so much younger than she looks. She chuckles. “So lazy, hiding out in here.”
Elly doesn’t say anything. She folds her wedding dress carefully, placing it beside her on the bed.
Margot frowns. “What are you doing, Little Mouse?”
“I’m sorry,” Elly says, because she doesn’t know what else to say. “I’m leaving.”
Margot stands silently in front of her, her single greenish eye peering up from under dark eyelashes.
She looks like Elly has struck her. “Leaving? But didn’t you just have your first session?
” She sits down on Elly’s bed, bouncing a little so that it creaks.
“Isn’t it just wonderful? I told you it would be. ”
“Wonderful?” Elly’s stomach feels hollow, and she puts a hand to it. She longs to feel the familiarity of the baby moving, to let it comfort her, but for now it is still. “This is crazy, Margot. All of it. What is this place? What are we doing here?”
Margot screws up her face, deep wrinkles appearing on her nose, hiding the faint freckles there. “Don’t like that word. Crazy. Haina says you shouldn’t say it.”
Elly feels like a feral dog backed into a corner, taunted, just as she had in Haina’s study. She has to get out of here. She has to get out of here now. “Maybe I don’t care what Haina says,” she whispers, surprised at how combative her voice sounds.
Margot’s eye widens. She lunges sideways and claps a hand over Elly’s mouth.
The shock of it makes Elly fall backwards but Margot has her other hand on her shoulder, maintaining her grip, bringing her close.
She’s frightened, Elly thinks. She’s terrified.
There are tiny red veins on her eyeball, spidering their way across the white.
“Stop that right now,” Margot hisses. “No talk like that. Haina won’t like it.
” Elly wriggles but Margot holds her tight.
“Do you promise?” It’s only when Elly nods that she releases her hand, slumping back on the bed.
There’s something defeated about her, as though it’s drained all her energy to speak.
“Sick of clearing up the mess,” she mumbles.
“Go on, then – try to leave. Go back into the world a lamb. See what it does to you. Don’t come crying to Margot.
” She blows out an exasperated puff of air, shrugs, and leaves Elly alone in the dorm.