Chapter 6 Gretel
Gretel
Hansel lies beside me, his arm over my waist, for what feels like a long time.
But I could stay here forever. The moment my mind wanders to tomorrow, I stop my thoughts where they are and remind myself where I am at this moment.
In his embrace. Loved and cherished. I wish we could stay here forever.
I’ve never felt this way. Nothing in my life has ever made me feel so fulfilled. Even the ache between my legs from where Hansel took me is met with a devotion from deep within my soul. It’s a good kind of pain mixed with pleasure. A feeling I could definitely get used to, if I had the chance.
I was meant for Hansel. Hansel was meant for me. Nothing can prove to me otherwise. Although in the back of my mind, I wander to tomorrow. To what’s to come when we have to leave.
Maybe, during our time apart, I started to believe it wasn’t true. Maybe I thought it would hurt less if I gave up on a silly childhood dream. Maybe it would be better for both of us, in the long run, if we weren’t meant to be. Afterall, the trauma we went through scarred us both.
I’ve never been so wrong before.
Because now, with his breathing deep and even as he drifts off, I know he was meant for me.
Every time he touched me, it was like discovering something I’d always craved but could never name. I wouldn’t have known how to ask anyone else for the things Hansel gave me tonight, and I didn’t have to ask for any of it.
He already knew what I needed.
He already knew me.
The fire burns a little lower, and I watch the light from the other room while I stare at a resting Hansel remembering what he said.
You’re mine. Nobody else’s. I’m going to make you mine.
It makes my heart race to think of those words, but what if he feels differently when he wakes up? What if he sees the cottage around us and remembers the fate I led him to?
Can one night together make up for how he was tortured?
A voice in the back of my mind whispers that it can’t. That a hundred nights together couldn’t make up for what Hansel went through. That one day, he’ll look at me the way he has for years—with resentment in his eyes.
That day isn’t here yet, I remind myself. Tomorrow isn’t even here yet. For now, he’s asleep, and I’m—
I shift under the blanket, letting what happened tonight seep back into me.
I’ve never come so hard. There have been times, alone in my bed, that I touched myself. None of those times compare at all to what I felt tonight. It’s almost impossible to believe that the world could be so bleak outside when Hansel made me feel so good.
I curl my toes, remembering, then relax them again.
This is the kind of feeling people wait their whole lives for. People dream about this. They hope someone will want them enough to overwhelm them with pleasure until it’s more than they’ve ever experienced, and then give them more on top of it.
Gods, that was good.
So good. Sleep threatens to take me but I resist. I don’t want to sleep and leave this moment. I find myself drifting, being dragged back in time and I protest.
The firelight is warm just to watch. There wasn’t any witch in the cottage, or any ash in the oven.
Maybe…
Maybe the fire in the hearth isn’t a bad thing. The village has been so long without any good magic that I started to think it had disappeared from the world. But a fire in a cold cottage, warming us up?
How could that be bad?
Another memory from that night with the witch comes back to me. What was it she said?
Come in and rest, children. Have something to eat. You must be so hungry.
She’d had something in her hands. Biscuits? Cookies, maybe? Something sweet. I got a whiff of it when we were still on her doorstep, and my mouth watered. I’m sure Hansel’s did, too. He always had such a sweet tooth, and sugar has always been expensive, and—
We’d been out on an adventure for two days, and we hadn’t packed enough food.
But if any witch was going to seduce us into staying overnight in the cottage, why would she have let us linger so long? Why wouldn’t she have taken revenge the moment we stepped through the door?
I freeze, going still. Fear paralyzes my lungs and I can’t breathe.
The witch let us linger… is she doing that now?
Is she outside the door right now? Was she only waiting until we were unarmed and distracted?
Is she going to burn down the cottage, just like the fields burn?
I listen as hard as I can. The wind blows outside. The fire crackles in the grate. Hansel mumbles something in his sleep.
My throat goes tight, but I swallow until it’s normal again. No matter what happens when the sun rises, at least I have my Hansel with me. And even if it’s only for tonight…
If it’s only for tonight, then I’ll accept that.
We’re fine for the moment. Everything is fine. The witch isn’t going to burn the cottage down.
Still, I decide to stay awake for a while, just to be sure. Best if one of us keeps a lookout. At least we’re not sitting in a tent, or underneath a tree. We have fire. We have walls, and a door shut tight behind us.
We have each other.
I watch the shadows from the fire on the ceiling and listen for patterns in the wind.
I don’t mean to drift off.
I don’t know that I’ve fallen asleep at first. I notice the room is dark, like the fire went out, and then everything around me takes the form of that awful night. Hansel in chains. The witch, laughing. It disappears, replaced with pure darkness, and then—
A sound. Close by.
The scream tears out of my throat before I feel the terror.
It floods through my body the next second, going everywhere.
Every nerve ending in my body is alight, not in pleasure, in pure agony.
It’s a deep, horrible fear. Goosebumps pull the skin on my nape tight.
The tips of my fingers ache. I push myself up in the bed.
Where am I? I don’t recognize this room, or these blankets.
The fire is burned down to embers. I can’t see. I can’t—
“Gretel.” Hansel’s arm comes around me, and he gathers me close to his body. He’s warm, and I huddle into his warmth, shaking. “Gretel. Wake up.”
Fear grips me but Hansel holds me tighter. Sleep burns my eyes but I wake, my throat raw from screaming. It takes a moment for me to understand, it was only a nightmare.
“I’m awake,” I gasp. Another scream tries to fight its way out of my mouth, but I swallow it and reach for Hansel. His chest rises and falls under my hand. I blink toward the bedroom door. “I saw—I think I saw something. I think—”
“It was just a dream.” He runs his hand up and down my arm. “Nothing’s here.”
“No,” I argue. “Maybe I didn’t see anything, but there’s—I heard something. Something woke me up. I wasn’t dreaming.”
He turns my face to his and kisses me. He’s tender and sweet. And slow. His love begs my heart to slow. My hands tremble and I try to look past him but he kisses me again.
That grounds me a little. I can breathe when he’s kissing me. Not very deeply, but better than I was before. My lungs work, and I inhale between kisses, hoping my heart will stop pounding.
Something woke me up. I know it. My body reacted like someone had touched me. Someone who wasn’t Hansel.
I break the kiss and glance around the room. My vision is bleary from having fallen asleep, but there’s nothing here. The broom is still in the corner. Hansel’s clothes and mine remain on the floor. The bedroom door is open, but there’s no figure hovering at the foot of the bed or on the floor.
We’re alone, but I don’t feel alone.
Another wave of goosebumps rolls over my arms. Hansel bends his head and kisses my shoulder. “Cold?”
“No, I just think—” I look at the doorway again. There’s nobody standing there, but the shadows aren’t comforting. They don’t look…safe. “I think something happened. I don’t know what. I want to leave.”
“I don’t see anyone. Nothing’s different from when we got into bed. It’s too dark to leave, but let me stoke the fire. That’ll help.”
Hansel climbs out of bed, it creaks with his weight, and for a few seconds, my mind is blank except for him.
I grip the covers tight around me. How could I think about anything else when he looks like that?
He’s always been lean, but now his muscles are carved out from the work he’s done.
He’s loose and relaxed as he stretches his arms over his head, slips his trousers on, then pads over to the grate and takes the poker from metal holder nearby.
As he does I slip my chemise and tunic on.
When Hansel stirs the embers, the fire jumps up again, little flames catching. It grows and grows once he’s turned his back. The fire is alive. There’s nothing to burn and yet it dances with a heat that it shouldn’t.
“Hansel…” I say, my voice small.
“Yes?”
He looks over his shoulder at me, crouched in front of the fire, and my mouth goes dry.
“Do you think—”
There’s a sound in the next room—a metallic thump, like something’s falling. My hands whip to my mouth to prevent me from screaming and my body turns to ice that no fire could melt. She’s here. I know she is.
I scramble out of the bed, dragging the quilt with me, and run to Hansel. It’s only a couple of steps, but he’s on his feet by the time I get there, the poker held out in front of him. He puts his arm out and pushes me behind him.
“Who’s there?” he shouts in the direction of the other room. “Answer me.”
Nobody answers. My body trembles as I look past him. My hair feels like it’s standing on end.
Hansel keeps his feet planted and his arm out, but I can feel his heart hammering. Someone’s in here. I don’t want this to be how we die. I don’t want this to be another nightmare.
“Who’s there?” Hansel calls again, his voice stronger and full of a danger for whoever stands there in disobedience and silence.
We killed her once, I think. We’ll do it again if we have to. Although my eyes sting with the painful memories, I straighten my shoulders and wait. I’ll do whatever it takes to leave with Hansel by my side.
The wind blows across the roof of the cottage. It’s sturdy, unlike the thatch at Hansel’s house, which regularly lets in the wind and rain. What sounds like branches tip-taps over our heads. We both look up, but the sound doesn’t come again.
“Stay behind me, Gretel,” Hansel orders in a murmur. “Stay close. I’m going to see what that was.”
He moves cautiously toward the door. I keep the quilt tight around me, though I know a quilt won’t be enough if the witch is in the next room. I don’t think anything will be enough if the witch is in the next room.
Hansel pauses at the doorway, the poker in front of him, and leans across. His eyes go wide although I can’t see why.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Food.” His tone is flat.
“What?” My heart races remembering the offering that led us to our hell before.
“It’s…food.”
Hansel takes another step into the next room and gestures. I stay behind him but peek out to see what he’s talking about.
Two candles are lit on the table. The chair that was knocked over when we first arrived is upright and pushed in.
There are dishes on the table. Plates. Bowls. Silver goblets. A meal laid out with delicacies.
The display covers most of the available space. On my next inhale, I smell it. Roasted chicken and buttery vegetables and something warm and sweet, like cookies, or cake.
We both stand there, silent, unmoving, for a minute. My own heartbeat is the loudest sound in the room, other than the wind.
Slowly, Hansel lowers the poker. He reaches back, finds my waist, and squeezes. “Are you okay?” he questions.
In an instant, all my fear rushes back. I try to speak, but all that comes out of my mouth is a choked sound. “No,” I barely get out.
Hansel turns to me and puts his hand on my face. “I’ll protect you, Gretel. It’s going to be fine. I need you to run with me.”
His voice is oddly calm. Almost too steady. His eyes don’t look flat anymore. They look determined. Hansel’s hands are steady, too. They’re not shaking like mine.
He turns his head, glancing around once more.
“Show yourself!” he yells out, his voice filling the small cottage.
Nothing. Not even the wind.
Hansel catches me looking. “We can’t eat it,” he warns.
“I know. I wasn’t going to touch it.” I glance back to the bedroom, wanting to get my cloak and run, even if it is in the dark. Although if we do… she may be waiting for us there. I don't know what’s best. I don’t know what to do.
“You don’t have to do anything, Gretel. I’ll take care of it,” he says as if reading my mind.
“What do you mean? What are—”
Hansel’s eyes harden. “I’m going to finish this place once and for all.”