Page 109 of Depravity

Colours, paintings, rooms pass me by in a whirl as I’m carried out.

“It’s okay.” The maid says reassuringly, echoing those same words my husband says. “Don’t be scared.”

But I’m not scared. I don’t feel scared. I don’t feel emotions.

It’s cold outside, really cold. The man holding me wraps something around my body and we stand by a car but he doesn’t put me in it.

He just turns me and lets me look back at the house. My house. Conrad’s house.

Only, it doesn’t look like it should. Why are there flames? Why is it billowing out smoke? I start to cough as that black ash seems to fill the air.

“You’ll never have to go back there again,” The man says. As if that’s meant to be a good thing.

I blink at him, staring at his strange face. “Who are you?”

His lips curl. He’s older, too old, far older than Conrad and Magnus too. He must be my grandfather’s age, only he doesn’t look like he’s looked after himself so well. His skin is more wrinkled. His eyes look tired. And his hair is so grey.

“You know who I am, Brynn.” The man replies. “I’m your father.”

Istare at him. Stare at the man I’ve only read about, had glimpses of, through my mother’s juvenile words. He’s old. Wrinkly. He has grey hair and peppery stubble on his face. He’s nothing like the man I imagined.

I don’t know what this means. What I’m meant to do.

He puts me in the car, straps me in like I’m precious cargo and then we’re driving away, disappearing into the night like thieves.

I have so many questions. Questions. Questions.

How did he find me? Why didn’t he find me before? Why does he even want me now?

I blink, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit me and it takes what feels like my entire strength to raise my hand to cover my mouth as I yawn.

“Try to sleep.” My father says. “We have a long journey.”

“Where?” Where are we going? Will Conrad be there? Has he decided he wants a new home now that I’m fixed, is that it?

He plants a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’ll explain in the morning.” He says.

The morning. That feels so far away. I don’t think I can wait till then. But I don’t think I can keep my eyes open either. My lids are so heavy.

My father’s hand strokes my hair. It’s still in plaits from the way Conrad did it. He teases them loose, letting the now kinked strands fall down over the blanket I’m wrapped in.

“You look so like her.” He says.

I don’t need to ask who. I know who. He means my mother. The woman he loved. The woman they wouldn’t let him be with.

I shut my eyes, lean back and let my sleep take me while the hum of the engine sounds like a lullab,y carrying me away to neverland.

I’m in a bed.

Not my bed.

Not my home.

I sit up as best I can and stare at the strange surroundings. There’re thick velvet curtains covering the windows, and the walls are decorated with elaborate panelling. The furniture looks old. So old. It feels like I’m in a castle, like I’ve stepped back in time.

I’ve been washed. Washed and dressed in a nighty, and that bandage on my chest is gone. I can feel my skin prickling around the cool air. I drop my gaze, trying to get a good look at what my husband did but the angle is all wrong, and my eyes won’t focus.

My bladder feels so full I’m worried I’m going to piss myself but as I try to get up, my legs give way, and I slam face first into a thick rug.

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