Page 114 of The Memory Wood

Kyle

I

Blood on my hands. Blood on the knife.

Gretel lies a short distance away, face down in the dirt. On her shoulders, I see my bloody handprints, but perhaps that’s just my imagination: with the door closed, it’s pretty dark.

Out of all the poor souls I encountered beneath the Memory Wood, Gretel affected me most deeply. Whatever happens next, I’ll carry her with me always.

Breath whistles in and out of my throat. Outside, the wind sings a lament. I’m not alone in here. Along the back wall sits Mama, her head bowed.

It’s agony, this. How long must I wait for Papa? How long before I find out my fate? I look at the manacle on my wrist. Maybe he won’t come at all.

I think of the story Magic Annie once told me, of a Daddy Fox who fell into a pit. His family tried to rescue him but they tumbled in as well, all except the oldest brother. Unable to anchor the chain, he was doomed to watch them all perish. Then he perished too.

The tool-shed door swings open. The light of an overcast sky falls over me.

II

It’s Papa.

He stands at the threshold, but he doesn’t come in. ‘She dead?’ he asks, his attention on Elissa.

I open my mouth to speak. When no words come, I just nod.

Papa’s cigarette smoke wafts into the shed. He runs his tongue over his teeth. ‘Didn’t think you’d do it,’ he says. ‘Thought the two of you had something going. But you’re a vicious little fucker when it comes to it. Aren’t you?’

‘I did what you asked. You know I always do.’

‘I didn’t ask you to do anything.’

I blink. ‘Yes, you did. You told me to … to …’

Hesitating, I rerun our earlier conversation. He’d called Elissa ruthless. Accused her of saying stuff about me. He said something else, too:I probably shouldn’t even be here, warning you like this.

But that’sallhe said.

‘I’m going to miss you,’ Papa says. ‘It’s been good having you around. But this thing between you and the girl; it got way out of hand. It led you into trouble. It led us all into trouble. I’ve lost mytrustin you, boy.’

‘Papa,’ I say, but he shakes his head.

‘Youlikedher, Eli. And despite that, look what you did. Who could feel safe around someone who does the things you do? We might be on the road for months. If you think I’m bunking down next to you every night, risking the chance of a cut throat … well, I’m afraid you’re mistaken.’

Papa steps into the shed. Crouching beside Elissa, he rests a filthy finger against her cheek. ‘Annie only ever takeskids whose folks don’t meet her standards,’ he says. ‘’Course, after a while, mostkidsdon’t meet them either. They lie, try to escape. They exhibit bad manners or a lack of respect. You were different, Eli. You always did the right thing.’

I stare at him, aghast. I know I’m a liar, but Papa’s a liar, too. What he just said simply isn’t the truth. Once, I was disobedient too.

‘But that girl changed you, Eli,’ he continues. ‘She filled your head with her crap and you weren’t strong enough to resist.’

I think of the letter I wrote to FIDE, the phone I stole off Leon Meunier. ‘Papa, please.’

The knife lies a few feet from Gretel’s body. He reaches out, picks it up. Then he stands and stalks towards me.

III

Queen’s Gambit, I think. But Papa still approaches. He’s wearing a look that steals my breath: eyes wide, teeth exposed, like he’s about to tuck into a steak. Around the knife, his knuckles are white.

‘We can do the dance if you like,’ he says, ‘but I’d really rather we didn’t. This isn’t a punishment, Eli. You’ve been in pain a long time.’

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