The Bride of Mr. Fox: Part Two (complete)

Tw: gaslighting, abuse, gore, frightening imagery and pregnancy

It was over a week of waiting for Mr. Fox’s first visit. And when he did arrive, it was an inauspicious visit, to say the least. I look back on it, I see the awkwardness between all of us. Mr. Fox was put off by Mother and Heleen’s eagerness, while I’m sure my attempts to dampen their excitement made me seem unwelcoming. Mother was angry afterwards, throwing the dinner plates at our feet then making us clean the mess. We thought, once he left that door, he would never return.

Low and behold, we were blessed with another visit, this time with gifts. He brought us such beautiful things then, a bracelet for mother she wears all day long, a hat for Heleen that she strokes the ribbons to while she thinks about Mr. Fox alone. For me, I was given a small jewelry box inlaid with mother of pearl, gold dusting, and lined with silk.

“I noticed what elegant fingers you have,” Mr. Fox told me. “I thought you might have a collection of rings you wished to keep safe.”

“I have a few,” I told him. “But not many.”

I still see Heleen glare at the box from time to time. She got no compliment like I received when she was given her hat.

From then on, Mr. Fox’s visits became much more frequent. He would stop by briefly to say hello. Sometimes he came and spent the whole afternoon with us. He says, of course, it all depends on his poor sister’s health. We were happy to have him to ourselves, as it seems he has not yet been pestered by the town with their stories about us.

I think about him often, despite not wanting to get my hopes up, but I fear I cannot help myself. He is handsome and kind, and I pray that any day now he arrives to ask for my hand in marriage. I’m certain Heleen has the same ideas, but it is my gut instinct he favors me more.

I have to stop thinking and go about my chores. Mother and Heleen are out getting a dress altered and I’ve been left alone to take care of a few simple chores, like darning some tights, as well as trying to remove blood stains from the heels and toes.

I step aside to toss the water I soaked the tights in and I see Mr. Fox is standing at the gate. I set the bucket down, quietly approaching as he turns to smile at me.

“It’s just me today,” I say.

Mr. Fox looks around, dark eyes darted from under the shadow of his hat. “May I still come inside?”

My cheeks flush and my heart races two paces faster. I nod to him, smiling shyly as I let him into our home. It’s silent between us, not a word is spoken as I lead him to the study rather than the parlor to come and sit. He pulls me into his arms and my head spins faster than a top. His arms are so big and strong, I can feel his muscle through the thick fabric of his coat. I know I should be proper and tell him to let me go, but I cannot speak such words when I have wanted this for so long. His kiss is hard and urgent, I can taste a faint trace of his breakfast upon his tongue, something rich and meaty. I grasp onto him, moaning in desperation. I need this. I want this.

The room grows hot as I lose my breath. There is no stopping at this point, no matter how improper it is. I give myself willingly, easily into the hands of this man. His red hair extends below his waist, I see, growing in dense curls that shelter the growing vine inside. I should not allow him to plant his vine inside me, but what am I to do? I am wet and ready to receive him, desperate to feel him all around me, coursing through my veins like new blood.

Mr. Fox holds me as if I am delicate, as if I am something precious. He takes his time inside me, pleasuring himself but also bringing to life feelings inside me I knew were there but buried so deep beneath neglect and denial. My God he takes my breath away. I grow fearful of what this might do to me, what he might turn me into should such a thrill continue.

I am breathless and weak when he finishes, leaving himself upon my thigh and stockings. He pulls away, admiring what he has done to me, smiling as he touches the wetness below, taking note of how ripe the flesh is.

“I don’t know what came over me, Ms. Griet,” he breathes as he rights himself. “I am so sorry. I should have been better. I should have controlled it.”

I shake my head, slowly lowering my skirts down. I would deal with the ripped stockings later, I would deal with the mess when I was alone. “It’s not your fault entirely, Mr. Fox,” I say as I catch my breath. “I could have dissuaded you as well.”

Mr. Fox smirks, kissing my cheek then smoothing back my hair. “Then you’ll let me do it again, Ms. Griet?”

My body flutters, making me swoon and nearly fall faceforward. “Again and again, if you so desire. But it will be hard to hide it from my sister and my mother.”

His grin brightens, almost as if he enjoys the challenge this will bring. “I can park my carriage at the intersection before the bridge,” he says. “We can meet there on certain days, if you can escape without question.”

I touch my fingertips to my lips. “Only if you make me a promise, Mr. Fox.”

“Anything.”

“Take me away from here,” I whisper to him. “Marry me, and I’ll help you take care of your sister. I’ll take care of you all your days. You can have me for that. You can do as you desire to my body, my soul, my everything.”

The somber expression on his face deters my hope, but his hand rests so gently upon my cheek. I look into his eyes, trying to see through the darkness of them.

“I’ll marry you, Ms. Griet, I just need a bit more time.” he kisses me and tears roll down my cheeks. “Wait for it. Until then we can steal our moments together.”

“We shall,” I whisper. “Oh, Mr. Fox, we shall!” I grab him and hold him close, taking all the kisses I can stand and then some more.

The moments we steal are blissful, if not hurried and urgent. The carriage rocks with our efforts, and the windows haze with the heat of our lovemaking. He promises to marry me, but each time he visits he does not bring up the prospect to Mother. I grow impatient as I wait for the day. I do not need the wedding or ceremony. Like Rapunzel I could wed in a tiny room with only Mr. Fox’s sister in attendance. As long as it was him, I would be happy.

“I need to speak to your mother alone, girls,” Mr. Fox says. I set down my cup, careful not to show my nerves.

Heleen smiles. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh yes, of course,” he laughs. “I just have something I need to discuss with her alone. I hope you understand.”

“Yes! Of course!” Heleen stands, grabbing me as if I wasn’t going to move. She drags me with her to the hall as Mother shuts the door behind us.

“Let go,” I fuss at her. I smooth down my sleeve again.

Heleen is all smiles and rosy cheeks. She’s bouncing around with such joy, you’d think she was filled with hot air. “I know what he’s talking to Mother about,” she says with such a smug tone I am sure she is full of hot air.

“You do?” I sneer down at her. “And what is it you know?”

“I’m not telling,” Heleen sticks her nose up in the air, still smiling. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

She thinks she knows. She always thinks things are going to go her way. But not today. I am the one who knows the truth, who knows where Mr. Fox’s heart lies. We’ve been together so many times now I have lost count, but I can remember them and how he left me feeling each and every time. I feel warm now remembering. I cannot wait to share a bed with him and not have to hide our love.

The doors open and Mother beckons us in. “Come along girls, we have such big news for the both of you.”

Heleen smirks up at me and nudges me back to take the lead. I follow behind her, eager to run in and embrace Mr. Fox. But I wait back, taking my time, appearing collected. I stand while Heleen sits, sticking out her chest for good measure.

“What could it be, Mother?” Heleen’s eyes never leave Mr. Fox.

“He’s asked me for a blessing,” Mother says, holding the same smug smile Heleen does. “And permission.”

“For what?” Heleen is close to squealing like a suckling pig. I cannot wait to hear her sobbing tonight when she finds out she is not everyone’s favorite.

Mr. Fox steps forwards and I close my eyes to hold back a wave of tears sure to come. “Permission, my dear, to take your hand in marriage.” I hear him kneel down. “If you will take me.”

“I will!” Heleen squeals.

I open my eyes and, to my shock and horror, I see Mr. Fox has knelt himself before Heleen who has gone red and shiny in the face, clasping his hands and nodding in her delight. I watch in terror, my assurance crackled, my tears of joy have grown achingly cold and grown to tears of hate.

“You’ve been after Heleen all this time, I was wondering when you would gather the nerve,” Mother says with pride.

I turn to her, unable to hide my shock and disappointment. But she smiles at me like she knew. No. All this time she did know! Didn’t she? I look to her for answers, and I am reassured that this is her doing. I knew he wanted me; she forced him! She must have!

“Oh, Griet, aren't you happy for us?” Heleen’s tone is simperingly sweet, but all it does is mock me.

“Very much so.” I speak just audibly. “I’m so surprised.”

Mr. Fox looks at me, his eyes so dark I cannot read them. They are like the eyes of an animal, a wild animal. Was there anything there all this time, or had I simply imagined it?

I got no explanation from him. All night it was about Heleen.

Heleen. Heleen. Heleen.

Mr. Fox must leave at some point, I am not sure when. The whole day was nothing but a thick messy soup. Heleen escorts him out, just to bid goodnight to her betrothed. I am sick. I am beyond sick. I am so full of rage and pain I do not feel anything anymore except the cracking of my bones as these feelings make way and overflow within my being.

“Well now,” Mother’s voice shatters like glass around me. “You could at least act like you are somewhat happy for your sister.”

“What did you say to him?” I didn’t leave a breath between our words. “What did you make him do? What did you promise him?”

Those green eyes glow in the dim light. She looks as me as though I am ridiculous and stupid. “I need you here, Griet. Your sister is pathetic.”

I swallow down my bile. “Mother?”

She rolls her eyes, exasperated and tired. “You are much more capable than your sister. She needs to be married. She can’t survive. You, my Griet, can survive. I will not leave my home, I need someone. I need you, Griet.”

“No,” I whisper.

Her eyes slice through me, easily and without mercy. “What was that, Griet?”

“Nothing.” I leave the room, choking back the tears and pain as they take  over my body, drowning me in an ocean too dark and choppy to survive. I run to the study, the place he made his promise to me. To me!

To me and me alone! Not to Heleen. Not to Mother. He promised marriage to me for my life, my soul, my blood.

“You look like her right now. Crying at that hearth.”

I don’t look up, but I do make myself stop crying.

“Did you have hopes?” Heleen asks. “Did you think he was looking at you all this time? Oh, poor silly Griet.” She stands beside me, looking down upon me. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” I force my voice to keep from breaking. “From this moment on, I refuse to think of you.”

“But you’ll think of him. Won’t you?” Heleen sighs and goes over to the window. “He asked me to come to his home tomorrow, so he can prepare it for our wedding day. He says he can’t wait.”

I watch her back, picturing how nice it would look with a knife in it.

“He wants you to come as well. Since you’ll be family.” She turns and smiles at me, taunting me. “He says you’re allowed to visit whenever you want.”

I go cold all over. “Alright, Heleen.” I stand up from the hearth and dust the ashes from my skirt. “I’ll take you tomorrow, and any day after.” I stand over her, looking down upon her. “I’m in shock over losing my sister. Don’t get such ideas, it hurts my feelings if you think that way.”

She continues to smile. “My apologies. What could I have been thinking?”

It rains as we leave for Mr. Fox’s place. We take the carriage, but our old horse is easily startled by the foul weather. The rain is light for now, but in the distance it’s obvious to see the worst is just around the bend.

Heleen won’t stop talking the entire trip. She talks about the wedding, her new home, all these things, not once does she mention Mr. Fox. When we arrive at his home he greets us at the door, along with a frail looking woman who must be his sister.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she says to me. “Ms. Griet, correct?”

“Yes.” Her wispy frame and sullen appearance make her look like a ghost. “And you are-” I search my memory for her name. I know Mr. Fox has mentioned it before, but I cannot recall as I look at her. “Gretel,” I finally say with relief. “He’s said so much more about you.”

Gretel smiles then shivers. “Oh, but it is cold! Come in or you could end up like me.” She takes my hand, leading me inside as Mr. Fox is taken over by Heleen.

“I must say I am surprised,” Gretel confides to me. “You appear his type much more than your sister.”

I hold my tongue.

“I’m sorry. There I go again.” Gretel clutches her chest. She starts coughing and it is a hollow, deep sound.

“Griet, do you mind taking Gretel back to her room?” Mr. Fox asks. “It would help ease my mind a bit while I show Heleen around.”

“Of course,” I answer simply.

“This way,” Gretel wheezes. She coughs again and I put my arm around her, taking her down the hall. Their home is large, but it feels empty. There is no decor on the walls, no tables, no mirrors, not even rugs. There is dust everywhere, cobwebs in the corners. Gretel’s room is nothing more than a bed and fireplace itself. I dare not say anything though, there could be a reason. They did just arrive at the village, they may not have had a chance to do anything about their new home.

“Thank you, Griet.” Gretel relaxes and breathes as she gets into bed.

“Are you feeling well?” I ask her.

Gretel smiles at me, her eyes the same deep, dark, unreadable things her brother’s are. “I am used to this state.” She points to the fire. “There is a book over there, do you mind getting it for me?”

“No. Not at all.” I go towards the fireplace where a chair is sat before it. In the seat is an old, worn book in tatters. I can barely see the writing on the cover, and pages threaten to escape unless I hold it a certain way. The cover too is a strange material, the woven fabric is strangely slick and coarse at the same time, the threads thick and frayed at the edges.

“It was my mother’s, that is why I tolerate it.” Gretel laughs softly as I hand her the book. She holds it to her chest and smiles. “It’s bound in her hair, so I like keeping it near me.”

My skin crawls. “Her hair, you say?”

“Mother was strange.” That’s all she says.

“I see.” I look around the room again, but there is nothing to look at. Instead I stoke the fire, adding more wood and making sure it would not burn out on her.

“You’re so kind, I can tell. I have a sense for people.” Gretel coughs again then whimpers as she lays back, clutching that book. “I hate to say this, since you are her sister, but I sense your sister is wrong for my brother.”

I look back at her, remaining unreadable. “How so?”

Gretel closes her eyes. “Oh, I feel weak,” she clears her throat. “I just feel you are better suited. Your sister is wrong. All wrong,” she murmurs as she fades to sleep. “I don’t want her to hurt my brother. But he wants her so-” She drifts to sleep, snoring peacefully.

Mr. Fox comes into the room, looking at me with guilt. I turn away from him, looking back towards the fire.

“How is she?”

“Asleep,” I reply curtly.

“Griet-”

“No,” I turn and glare at him. “You don’t get to apologize to me. Not when she is-” I begin to overflow from the inside and Mr. Fox comes to me. He puts his arms around me and holds me.

“Your Mother made me,” he whispers. “I said I wanted you and she laughed at me. I had no choice.”

“Fool!” I push at him and outside thunder roars.

“You should head home, I don’t want you and your sister traveling when it gets bad.” he looks at me, his eyes completely black. “I’ll explain later. Right now, she’s listening.”

“Fine. I’ll take her home.” I shove him away. “You weak, pathetic-” I run from the room, and see Heleen coming down the hallway. I tell her we’re leaving, but she goes on to Mr. Fox anyways.

The storm is setting in as we make our way home. It startles our horse, and we stop often. Heleen is babbling. My mind is both racing and blocked. It is full. Anger. Pain. Misery. Hatred. I don’t have much room for anything else.

“What are you doing?” She snaps at me.

The horse has stopped in its tracks, shaking and whining as the storm darkens.

“You’re just trying to aggravate me, aren’t you?” Heleen whines. “Jealousy isn’t pretty on you, Griet. Not much is!”

I take in a deep breath and look at her. “Please, be quiet,” I say with more calm than I thought possible.

Heleen scoffs. “I want to go home!”

Lightning cracks before us, knocking down the limb of a tree. The thunder that follows is nothing compared to the sound the horse makes. It takes off, going off the road and dragging the buggy with it. Heleen screams, tousled by the motion of the buggy and the rough terrain it is hitting. The door swings open, letting in the rain and mud. Heleen is thrust towards the open door and I am her only achor. She clings to me, pleads with me with her eyes. I just look at her, the same way I would look at the girl.

“I don’t want to die!” She screams. “Help me, Griet!”

When I am found, I tell them I don’t remember a thing. I say I remember the storm, but I cannot tell them what became of Heleen. I cry for her, of course I do. My sister is missing, possibly dead, what else am I to do?

“What did you do?” Mother breathes down upon me in the darkness.

“Mother, please, I’m tired.” I weakly reply.

“Is a man worth it?” She asks.

I look up, peering through the shadows to see her eyes. The glow isn’t there, so I do not fear her. “Was it for you, Mother?”

She holds her breath.

“All those men. Were they worth it?” I close my eyes, trying to find sleep. “I’ll grieve with you in the morning, Mother.”

I hear her leave without much sound. I fell asleep, waking to the smell of grave dirt.

Mr. Fox comes to visit in the morning. The news of his fiancée vanishing has him tore up, of course, but arrangements are made, and I am to wed Mr. Fox in Heleen’s place. After a mourning period of course. There is still hope, perhaps.

I decide on a small, simple ceremony. No pomp, no pageantry, I wear a simple dress because all that matters to me is the marriage. I honor my sister by wearing her jewelry. Mother does not attend.

As Mrs. Fox, I happily begin my new life, eager to leave everything in the past. The girl and her Earl, Mother, even Heleen. Those days don’t matter anymore, I am free from them all, I am no longer kept prisoner in their world.

One thing that bothers me about my husband’s home is how empty it is. My original thought was that, since he and Gretel had just moved in, they hadn’t had time to unpack. But I found no luggage, no boxes, nothing to show signs of them having any possessions at all. The few things I brought with me barely fill the bedroom.

“The ship carrying our things has been lost at sea,” Gretel tells me. She has been in good spirits since the wedding, and has been great company while Mr. Fox takes care of his business.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say.

“We’ll be getting some new things soon, I should think.” She coughs and stills for a moment, waiting to see if it causes a fit. When it doesn’t, she rises back up and sighs. “I’ve been fine without them, but I suspect with you here now, my brother will want to show off.”

I smile at her, thinking what a good sister Gretel is. I see her fidget in her seat, turning towards the windows with a look of disgust upon her face. “Excuse me, sister,” she says and rises slowly. “The sunlight is hurting my eyes. I think I should go lie down.”

“I can close the curtains,” I offer.

She shakes her head at me. “You should rest, that leg needs to heal.” Her smile is sweet and kind, but her eyes appear dark for a brief moment. “I’ll come and sit with you again later.” She leaves and I am left in the bedroom alone.

Mr. Fox left me a stack of books by the bedside, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t care much for reading. I pick one from the top of the stack, finding it is old and nearly falling apart. I recognize it as the book Gretel had been reading before; the one bound in her mother’s hair.

“Disgusting,” I mutter to myself. I open the pages, seeing they are hand written. There are dates at the top of the pages, much like a diary. I turn a few pages, barely able to read the handwriting at all in the beginning. The further in, the better the handwriting becomes. Once I find a second I can decipher, I read it.

“The darkness has always been kind to me. In the daylight you can see things. You can see people. Their voices claw at me, I do not like them at all. I am glad I ran away. I miss when I was left alone, before they made me come out. Before then I would let the darkness touch me whenever I wanted. The darkness would come out from under my bed, taking me as its wife, filling me, overpowering my senses. I grow wet remembering those early days when my beloved darkness found me. My children are safer here as well. They will grow strong here, they will not be taught to fear. They will be like the darkness.”

“Darling?” I hear Mr. Fox calling and I quickly put the diary aside.

“Yes, dear?” I call back to him, hoping to see him come through the door.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment.” My heart sinks. “Gretel needs me for a moment.”

“Of course, I understand.” I sit back in bed and let out a long sigh. I look back at that diary and place it back upon the stack.

My husband is gone for a long while. I begin to worry on top of my hunger and boredom. I take my old cane and hobble to the door. The place is cold and dark. As I step into the hallway I find it odd that not even a candle is lit. I hobble further down, standing at the end to listen. I hear nothing, not even my husband or Gretel’s voices.

“Hello?” I call out. “Is anyone there?” I walk a little further, stopping just before the foyer. “Darling? Gretel?” I look around through the darkness. “I am hungry, I was hoping there was something to eat?” I turn back down the hallway and I see a figure standing there at the end.

“Darling?” I gasp in excitement.

The figure just stands there.

“I don’t mean to be a bother, but I’m hungry. Could you fetch me something to eat?” I smile, hoping they can see.

The figure twitches and I hear something wet smack against the floor.

I swallow and take a few steps forward. “Gretel? Are you sick? Where’s your brother? I can go find him. Is he in the kitchen?”

The figure takes a step forward and it sounds like water is dripping onto the floor. It moves shakily, one leg seems to drag upon the ground.

“Gretel?” I ask again. There is a stillness that makes me pause, and a staleness to the air as I breathe it in. “Who's there?”

Lightening flashes and I see a naked, gored figure coming towards me. In the light it lunges forward, hissing and squealing as it clatters and jerks towards me. I scream, trying to turn and run but I fall, landing on my bad leg. I scream as the figure stands above me, their entrails covering my face and body, their blood filling my mouth as they claw at my hair.

“Run!” The corpse says. “Run from here! It is not safe! Not safe!” Their strangled, gurgling voice screams. They rip at my hair, pull at my clothes, all the while bathing me in blood, bile, and entrails. “Run! Run! Run! As fast as you can!”

“No!” I am beyond terror. My mind and body cannot cooperate because everything is madness. I manage to scramble away, dragging myself towards the entry. I stand, but barely, throwing open the door and I see eyes in the darkness watching me.

“I told you that later was worse,” the voice of the girl whispers into my ear. “It’s too late now.”

“What are you doing?” Mr. Fox says.

“Darling!” I let out a sob. “It was awful! Did you see it?”

He comes to me, shutting the door and grabbing me. But his grasp is hard, his fingers sink into my arm as he pulls me away.

“What are you doing? You’re hurting me!” I cry, trying to force his hand off my arm.

“You shouldn’t be up.”

“I was hungry.”

“You still shouldn’t be up.” He pulls me away, forcing me through the shadows. I try to fight him, not wanting to return to the hallway where I was assaulted by that corpse.

“Please! Darling! Listen to me! Please!”

“You need to rest. You’re hurt.” I hear him step on something and something wet brushes up against my leg. “Besides, at night, this place isn’t safe. Stay in bed, and do not move.”

“What are you talking about?” I was on the verge of tears. I pull at his hand, finally taking it off me. “Please, darling, what is going on? What’s happening?”

My husband places me into my room, shutting the door before I can even see his face. I hear a key turn, locking me inside.

I wake in the morning curled up at the foot of the bed. My clothes are covered in blood and I have hidden them away. I dress for the day, putting on clean garments. As I brush my hair I notice big clumps of my hair come out. It makes my hair noticeably thinner when I put it into a bun, so I cover it with a cap.

The door opens and my husband steps in. “Sorry about last night,” he says with his usually charming tone. “Gretel had a bit of an accident so I stayed with her all night.” He takes my hands, his own warm and gentle like always. “Can you forgive me?”

“What happened last night?” I ask. “Why did you lock me in here?”

He furrows his brow, staring at me in confusion. “I would never do such a thing! Did you have a bad dream.”

I stare at him, seeing the care and love in his eyes. Why would he lie to me? Goodness knows my dreams have not been pleasant lately. I smile back at him and sigh. “Must have been. I’m sorry.”

He kisses me. “It’s best if you go to bed early each night.” He helps me stand and hands me my cane. “Especially around here! Everything is so overgrown, one’s mind can race and wander.” He laughs heartily and pulls me into his side.

“Yes, of course.” I smile, leaning into his embrace.

My husband serves me breakfast, making sure I eat well since I had such horrible nightmares.

“I want you to be happy here, darling,” he says. “I want you to make this a home you can be proud of.” His hand slides under the table, touching my leg. What I expect to be a pleasant touch turns to fire, burning my leg and causing my to cry out in agony.

“Oh no,” he pulls back. “Is it still bad?” He stands and tugs back my hair, lifting up my skirts to inspect my leg. “Oh-” he stands back up, giving me a strange look before smoothing down my skirts. “Let me take you back to bed.”

“I don’t want to go back to bed!”

“I’ll send Gretel in to keep you company, don’t worry. I just…I need to go into town for work.” He says.

He takes me back to the bedroom, laying me down in bed. He covers me, laying some books on top of the blanket. “Just stay here now, okay. You really need to rest that leg.”

“But-” I try to argue, he just leaves me too quickly. I sigh in frustration, laying back upon the bed. I try to move back the blankets, but I can’t move aside the books he’s stacked on the blanket.

Gretel comes in, her dark eyes looking over me. There’s a distance to her gaze, an annoyance. She then puts on a smile and comes to my side.

“My brother told me you had a nightmare last night.” She sits beside me and goes to pet my hair, but I stop her.

“It’s fine. But he’s acting strange. Did he tell you where he’s going?”

“To work,” Gretel answers. She sees the books laying beside me, picking up the diary. “I’ve been looking for this.”

“Your brother left it here.”

Gretel clutches the book to her chest. “This isn’t for you, he knows that.”

“I haven’t looked at it,” I lie.

Gretel smiles at me again. “He likes you a lot. It surprises me.”

I furrow my brow. “Why?”

“We were told to never trust anyone as children. Our mother taught us that family was all we needed and that the darkness would take care of us.”

The darkness, I shudder to think what that really means. “The darkness? How is that possible?”

Gretel looks down upon the diary, running her hand over the worn cover. “All we need, all we love, is hidden inside the darkness. Light shows it to us. But the darkness holds it.” Her eyes cut to me. “What did you see in your nightmare?”

“I uh-” I choke on the fear of it. “I don’t-”

“What was it, sister?” Gretel leans in close to me. “You can tell me.”

There is a smell on her breath, something I am familiar with but can’t place. I ease away from her a bit and try to smile.

“I don’t want to worry you, sister,” I say. “It was just a dream, nothing real.”

“Was it about Heleen?”

My guts churn.

“Such a shame,” she sighs. “She was so excited. I can’t imagine losing my sibling.”

I look away from her, feeling my breakfast rise. “She was only half a sibling. We never got along like you and your brother.”

Gretel’s hand reaches out, touching my injured leg. Fire spreads again, burning, aching, I throw myself back upon the bed, crying out in agony.

“Blood is blood,” Gretel whispers. “No matter how diluted.”

“Stop-” I whine. “It hurts.”

“Not to worry. My brother told me not to say a thing, but he’s gone to fetch a doctor to…take care of you.” She smiles at me, her eyes dark, but the pain is causing me to see things. The blacks of her eyes have taken over, making her sockets appear empty. Her skin appears sallow and greasy, while her mouth opens a bit too far to seem human.

“We’re sisters now, aren’t we, Griet?” She whispers. “Blood is blood.” Her hands slip up over my belly. “We both share blood.”

“Gretel?” I start to cry as the world fades from my eyes.

“You won’t kill me, will you?” Gretel whispers. “No. You wouldn’t want to hurt my brother.” Her fingers go through my hair as everything goes as black as her eyes.

I wake upon the dinner table, gazing up at the barely lit chandelier above me. The room is cold and filled with voices. Whispers come from everywhere, echoed by laughter.

“There, all better.” My husband touches my forehead. “You’ll be back to normal in no time. Your leg was infected.”

“Infected?” I whimper.

“At the toe,” a voice says. “Or well, where toes should be.” Laughter fills the room.

“Who's here?” I try to sit up but my husband keeps me laying down. “Darling? Do we have company?”

“You need to rest,” he says. “We need to be careful. After all, we need to do everything we can to protect the baby.”

I feel so sick all at once. “Baby?”

“Isn’t that wonderful news?” Gretel whispers above me. Her hands come down, touching the side of my face. “You two certainly wasted no time. Did you, brother?”

“Gretel, hush,” he hisses at her.

“Lucky girl.” Gretel leans over the top of me and smiles down upon me. “Unlike your sister, huh?”

I close my eyes, fading in and out. I hear something that sounds like a feast around me, a room full of people, of smacking lips and cutlery upon plates. Every so often, I try to open my eyes, but can only manage a flutter of the lids. I see yellowed, grotesque faces, their mouths opening wider than a human’s should. Their black eyes peer everywhere and nowhere. I see my husband, but it isn’t my husband.

I don’t know what day it is when I awake. Looking down I see a bump to my belly and a missing bump where my leg should be. I simply stare, still feeling a sense of warmth where my leg should be.

There is a tapping at my window and I see the shape of a person outside the fogged glass. They tap, tap, tap, and then I hear them giggle. It sounds like Heleen’s annoying laugh.

“I told you to run and now you can’t,” she says. “How sad. How sad.”

“Go away. Leave me alone,” I mutter. I go to lay down, but my head lays upon a book. The diary again. I scoff and go to toss it, but I see pages inside I recognize. They are pages from my stepfather’s biography. There are scribbles all over the pages, marks that cut through sentences, even a whole paragraph. There’s all sorts of writing I can’t read. At the bottom though I can see something I can understand.

“Gretel came first, Hansel followed behind,” it said. “Rapunzel is queen to ghouls now.”

I furrow my brow, looking up as the door opens. My husband comes in, carrying a plate for me. He hands it to me in silence and I look at the food he has provided.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” He asks.

The slab of meat upon my plate looks like the side of a face. There is a corner of the mouth, mostly cheek, and a little under eye bag. I stare at it and feel a craving rise up from my womb to my belly and my mind. There is a beauty mark at the corner of the mouth, just like the one Heleen had.

“Where did you get this?” My mouth fills with saliva as I speak. I grow so hungry looking at this slab.

“You need to eat. For our children,” he says. “That's the best part too.”

I pick it up whole in my hand, biting into it. The texture makes me wretch, but I chew and swallow it down, sating the baby inside me.

My husband, Hansel, sits beside me, laying his hand upon my belly. “It’s better this way, Griet.” He kisses my cheek. “Don’t be mad at me.”

I look to the door, and from the crack I see Gretel watching us. She smiles, and her dark eyes seem illuminated, although I know that is impossible. But I cannot help but to think that they glow from the way she stares down upon us.

I take another bite, chewing slow and I swallow. “Yes, darling.”