Cross Stitch: Part Two (complete)

The pages of the diary are written as if Mrs. Atherton knew it was going to be found. In the few pages that Marni has given me, she reveals a world of torment, one that could appear to be in her head, but just as easily be a twisted web around her.

The first few pages, which had been sent with Marni’s original letter, are sparse paragraphs detailing weather, daily chores, and the sewing jobs she works on each day. The newer pages are nearly black with cramped script, and go into detail about the woman’s pregnancy and fears over motherhood. Her excitement and unease about her husband pour out on the page and she wrestles with the idea of raising a child with a man who, she claims, she cannot love.

She also writes that she is fully aware that Erique is having an affair with Mary Alice, something she tolerates only because she is soon to have a child. Her thoughts race across the page, describing moments where all seems well between her and her husband. Then she plunges once again into a spiral of worry and regret over her marriage.

“I was well aware of what I was marrying into when I accepted Erique’s proposal. I had heard the stories about him, but I thought that our union would tame him. I doted upon him during those initial months. I was eager to begin a family, and I thought he was as well. As time went on, though, his affection for me and his time spent in the house seemed to dwindle. I never became pregnant, so I blamed that for the sudden turn in Erique’s adoration. I tried everything to turn his attention to me again, and while he spoiled me and said the right things, it was not enough. In my mind, I had come to the conclusion that I was not enough.

“I buried myself in work. I made dresses and stitched until my eyes crossed, my fingers bled, and my shoulders ached. Erique hired someone to help me because, in his words, I was beginning to look like a suffering old maid. This is how Mary Alice came into our home. She was a pretty thing, exactly to Erique’s tastes. But she was also a hard worker, kind, and treated me like a sister. I became enamored with the young woman, and considered her my friend.

“I knew, too, that she and Erique were carrying on behind my back. I could tell from her flustered expression, the way her hair was sometimes mussed, how her dresses were wrinkled at the hem as if they had been risen above her waist. Erique was home much more often, and I could tell from his smile how good he was feeling. His affection for me had returned, but I knew it was out of guilt that he touched me, made love to me, and acted the part of a dutiful husband.

“I let it slide. For some reason, none of this bothered me as it should. In the early days of our marriage, when I was young and determined to raise an upstanding family, it filled me to the brim with rage. But now, older, wiser, and having given up the idea of family, I was satisfied with the companionship.”

Another page shifts suddenly back into anger and betrayal, as she realizes that Mary Alice is pregnant. It is not the girl she spits her venom at - in fact, the mentions of Mary Alice are far and few between. She focuses her ire on Erique.

“I can forgive his lasciviousness. I can forgive him for sticking it into anything that moves. I can look away from the women, even the men, but I cannot look away from the fruit of his sin. His seed has taken root and is growing inside my dear Mary Alice. Her belly swells by the day, filled with my husband’s sin. She grows sick from him. This thing that he has made, he cannot hide. He tries to make excuses, tries to get rid of the girl, to hide her from me.

“He knows what he has done. I cannot give him a family, so I could overlook his transgressions. But what he has done is the ultimate insult. He has offended me to my core. He has blighted my existence. His sin and greed shall be seen by the world! I will never forgive him, not ever.”

Another page seems joyful as she reveals she, too, is pregnant - but the elation is brief. Erique goes missing, and I can find no more mention of poor Mary Alice.

I cannot help but feel sorry for Mrs. Atherton. As it stands, I too have conflicting feelings about my pregnancy. Ever since I was little, I knew I never wanted children, but Ivan was so excited about becoming a father, I wanted to be able to give him that joy. I keep telling myself that once the baby is here, I’ll understand like all the other mothers do. I simply have a lingering fear, left over from childhood, when I found out my father’s secret.

I sketch out the man I saw in the hallway for Ivan and Marni. While Ivan hasn’t seen anything, he has heard the cries of the baby. Marni says she’s heard nothing but a silence that made her question her sanity, but she has seen a man in the house during her few trips inside.

The man with scissors was tall and lean, but his posture was stooped and crooked so that his hands dragged along the floor. His contorted fingers were tied and twisted around the handles of a pair of scissors, and his palms looked hammered flat. His mouth was sewn shut, with gashes or holes where the thread had been broken. He wore black, and his long hair covered most of his face.

“That’s him,” Marni whispers. “I saw him once when I first unlocked the doors. I would see him near doors in the house, but I thought it was something else.”

Ivan grimaces down at my sketch. “What else could that possibly be?”

“I was scared! I was trying to lie to myself.” Marni bites her lip as she looks into the distance. “I was told that sin and Satan were the most horrifying things in this world. I truly wanted to believe that.”

“I also saw a woman. The man was standing over her, and he had her cut open. I think it was the woman who wrote these pages, his wife. He took the baby from her.” I shuffle through the pages, having put them in order of their dates. “Where did you find these, Marni?”

She raises her dark green eyes to me. “Scattered inside the house. I picked them up, thinking it was garbage, but as I looked at the pages, I realized they belonged to someone here.”

Ivan’s eyes narrow at her. “You said you found some recently, though. You also said that you refused to go back into the house.”

“I did,” Marni says quietly. “When that woman was found in the backyard, she had them in her pockets.”

“You found her?” I ask.

Marni nods, wringing her hands. “I heard screaming, but by the time I came, she had collapsed back there. It was strange. It looked as though she had been there for hours.”

Ivan takes my hand under the table. “Can you tell us more about what happened when the Stevens arrived?”

“It was nearly the same as what happened to you. They asked me a few questions, looked around the place, then went inside. I saw lights on, so I never thought that the worst could have happened.”

Ivan rubs his thumb into my palm. “How long were they here before you found Linda in the yard?”

Marni looks down at her hands and stops fidgeting with her fingertips. “It wasn’t long at all. Two days.”

“That’s all?” Ivan scoffs in disbelief. He looks at me again, trying to argue that we shouldn’t go back inside.

I avoid his eyes and focus on Marni. “You just saw the lights? You never heard anything at all until Linda screamed?”

Marni’s eyes turn away and she shakes her head. “I try not to focus on the house. When I do, I feel it pulling on me again.”

Ivan pulls the sketch towards him. “Whoever this is, I don’t think he cares about men. That’s why Hank vanished and Linda was found outside.”

“The lady’s husband was a philanderer.” As I speak, Marni looks directly at me. “She said that he desired women, but could never love any of them. She feared she would have a baby girl and he would turn her away.”

Marni asks, “Then why cut the baby out in your vision?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

Ivan’s expression gives something away, which Marni can see without trying. “Is there something about this that makes it worse than what you’ve seen and done before, Mr. Young?” she asks.

Ivan looks at me, and his grip on my hand under the table tightens. “We’re pregnant. It took us a long time to get here. It’s why we sent the Stevens here in the first place. And now...” His voice fades away.

Marni’s eyes widen. “Why come here at all?”

“We owed it to them,” I answer. “And now I feel it is my duty to see it through to the end. We need to get rid of whatever remains in that house.”

“But why?” Marni scoffs. “Why try to save this place and not yourself? What happened in there to make you so adamant about staying?”

There is a breeze at the back of my neck. “It’s a story I don’t wish to share.”

Marni furrows her brow, but nods in agreement. “Then let me ask you this - what makes you think you can survive what the Stevens could not?”

Ivan lets go of my hand, placing both of his upon the table. “As much as Hank was my friend, he often tried to piggyback off my research. He thought if he copied what we did, then he would get the same results.”

“He seemed so confident coming here,” Marni murmurs. “I never would have guessed he was less than experienced.”

Ivan takes off his glasses. “He had some successes, and sometimes he just lucked into things. But he was always in over his head. Had we known what was really going on here, we would never have sent them.”

A lookcrosses Marni’s face. “Did you…” She stops and shakes her head as she begins to laugh. “Did you not believe me when I first contacted you? Is that why you sent them?”

“No,” I try to cover. “It wasn’t that at all. Ivan and I agreed we wouldn’t do any more jobs like this until...”

“So you sent people you’ve admitted were shams!” Marni stands up from the table. “Were you just placating me before? I came to you out of fear! And you sent me people you had no respect for.”

My gut churns.

“You have no choice now,” Ivan says sternly. “We made a mistake. We admit that now. But now we’re all you have.”

Marni’s anger doesn’t fade as she takes her seat again. “You claim that this is the work you do. Do you dismiss everyone who comes to you asking for help?”

“No, of course not. But we do get a lot of people who are looking to disprove us or chase fame. You seemed genuine in your letter, so we...”

“I was. I am not chasing fame, I am not trying to prove you wrong or mock you. I am terrified. I don’t know why I came to be the heir of this place, but God has a plan for everyone, and for some reason, this house is in my plan!”

“We’re here now,” Ivan says. “We’re going back to the house tomorrow, and that’s all we can promise you. We’re sorry this was not taken seriously before.”

“I just want to do something good inside that house,” Marni whispers. “I don’t want it, I will never need it. Please, just help me make it good.”

We return to the house the next day, taking our equipment and some supplies with us. Ivan and I set up camp in the foyer, getting everything ready to explore the house together. We give Marni a radio which will keep her in communication with us while we’re in the house.

“It’s good you’re staying out here. It will give us a lifeline, should we need it.”

Marni looks at my belly. “May I pray over you?” she asks.

I hesitate, smiling uneasily and nodding. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

“Are you not religious, Mrs. Young?”

I look back at Ivan as he finishes getting the last few things out of the car. “I am. But I fear I may not be very motherly.”

Marni smiles at me. “All mothers feel that way.”

“It’s not like that,” I say quietly. “Ivan wants to be a father so badly but I can’t help but feel that I will...”

Marni takes my hand. “You will be a good mother. I can see it. This child will be born to someone who will love them.”

Ivan comes up, setting down the box he’s carrying just at the top of the stairs. “We’re almost ready. You show her how to work that radio?”

“She did.” Marni lets go of my hand. “Are you sure you want to do this? I’ll let you go now if there is any doubt in you.”

I step up next to Ivan. “We’re going through with this,” I answer. “We’ll find the source of the haunting.”

“Be safe. I’ll be praying for you.” Marni closes the doors behind us as we go inside.

Ivan turns on some of the equipment, and the sound of it buzzing to life fills the silence. I check the thermometer, and see the temperature is fluctuating quite rapidly. I look over at the scissors that had fallen from above. There are scratches around them.

“We can and will leave if we see anything like we did in Wakefield.” Ivan comes up beside me, placing his hand on my lower back.

“You’re just afraid of dolls.” I lean into his side for a moment of respite, then stand in alertness. “Come on. We need to start exploring this place.” I pick up a flashlight and enter the hall where I saw the man with scissors.

“What were you and Sister Marni talking about?” Ivan asks.

“She wanted to pray over the baby.” I turn on my flashlight and sweep it across the room. The light shines on the form of a woman, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I drop the flashlight, and it rolls along the floor until Ivan picks it up.

“It’s a sewing form.” He walks deeper into the room, revealing several sewing forms lined up against the wall. “I wonder if the lady of the house was a seamstress.”

I sigh with relief, clutching at my chest. “How did that not frighten you?”

Ivan smiles at me. “My grandmother always had a couple of these lying in wait when I was younger.” He hands me back my flashlight. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just jumpier than I expected.” I continue to scan the room. I see nails in the window sash, sealing it shut. They’ve been hammered in such a way that they’re twisted and bent, rather than flush to the wood.

I look towards the hallway. At the end, I see something move suddenly out of the way. I swallow hard and steady my breath. “Ivan, this way.”

He looks away from the forms. “Did you see something?” he whispers.

“I did.” I hold out my hand. “We stay together. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” He takes my hand, holding it as we go down the long hallway. Near the end, I hear something shuffling along the bare wood floors.

“Sounds like a rat,” Ivan murmurs.

“We got dress forms. We are not getting rats.” We come to the end of the hallway, and I shine my light down both ends. As I do, I see something go through one of the doorways. Along the floor near it, there are scratches in the wood.

“Do you see him again, Amy?” Ivan whispers.

“He went into that room.” I raise the flashlight towards the opened door.

Ivan tries to walk around me. “I’ll lead.”

“No.” I hold my arm out. “He doesn’t like men, remember? I’ll lead.” I squeeze his hand again as we advance. I carefully creep through the doorway, shining my light into the room. It’s small, and loose bolts of fabric are scattered around the floor. There’s another dress form in the middle of the room, with an unfinished dress hanging on it. I see the man with scissors at the back of the room, but as I try to shine the light on him, he vanishes.

“This must have been her workspace. There’s the sewing machine. See?” Ivan places the light on the old sewing machine, and there’s a dark stain all over the wall behind it. The tabletop is wet and sticky, gleaming in the glow of his flashlight. Suspended from the needle of the sewing machine is a bit of flesh that drapes down over the edge of the table.

“Oh, god,” I gasp in fright. I look back at the dress form and the dress tacked to it. Dozens, if not hundreds of needles, glimmer in the light, holding a dress made of skin to the soft surface.

“Amy,” Ivan’s voice croaks. “Look.” He points to a tattoo on the skin dress, and I recognize it right away.

“It’s Hank.”

Above us, something skitters, then clatters violently. Ivan pulls me back, grabbing me before retreating into the hallway. As we do, the doors all open at once, then continue to fly open and shut, blocking and striking us until we tumble through another open doorway. Ivan tries to keep the door from slamming and tripping us, but as he does, his hand gets crushed in the doorframe.

“Ivan!” I rush to him, pummeling myself against the door to get it to open. The door won’t budge. It feels as set as stone. “Oh, god, are you alright?”

Ivan is struggling to keep his composure. His face is red and glistening with sweat. “Stop ramming into it,” he strains.

I stroke his hair from his face and try to comfort him. “It’s okay. I’ll find something to get you out.” I take the flashlight again, looking around the room we’ve become trapped in. There’s a bed with a bassinet placed next to it. On the floor, stuffed animals scattered everywhere so that barely any of the floor can be seen. As I sweep the light over the fireplace, I see an iron poker. I race to grab it, jarring soot and ash loose from the flue.

“Maybe I can jar the door open enough for you to pull your hand out.” I come back to Ivan’s side, resting the flashlight so it shines on us.

Ivan is slowly starting to lose composure. He’s gone from red to white, and his knees are knocking. “Be careful!”

I jam the poker into the door just above the doorknob. I heave against it, trying to use it as a wedge so Ivan can release his hand. A baby starts crying as I force the door. The more pressure I put, the louder it screams and wails. I release the poker, and the baby stops crying.

“Did you hear it again?” I ask.

“Amy!” Ivan wails.

I decide to ignore the cries to free my husband. I jab the poker in again, and the baby screams as though it’s been impaled. The door budges, and Ivan pulls his hand to freedom. Already it looks black around his knuckles.

“Oh, baby,” I whisper, cradling his hand in mine.

“I’ll be fine! Fuck...” He braces himself against the wall. “I’ll be fine. I will.” He looks at me reassuringly. “What about you?”

I’m not quite sure how to worry about myself right now. I shake my head at him and try to smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“You said you heard it again,” Ivan pants through his pain. “Are you sure?”

The faint whimpers and sobs of a baby come from the darkest corners of the room. I look down at Ivan’s hand, taking his wrist and gently holding it. “It’s not the same,” I whisper.

Ivan puts his arm around me, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. I close my eyes, reveling in his warmth, and hold him in return, squeezing tightly in the hope that he understands I’m here for him too.

In the glow of the flashlight, I see the man with scissors standing behind Ivan. His bloodshot eyes peer through a curtain of greasy black and gray hair.  He’s staring at me, stiff and shivering. I tighten my arms even more around my husband. “Stay away from him,” I whisper.

Ivan stiffens. “Is he there?” His voice cracks.

I stare deeply into the eyes of the man with scissors. “Don’t move. Not an inch.”

The man’s mouth moves, twisting and contorting so the threads keeping it shut tear at the flesh. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I watch him. His mouth opens, and black blood drips down from the sutures. Between the threads, cotton stuffing protrudes through his lips, caked with blood, saliva, and yellow pus.

“Too late...” his dusty voice coughs.

Ivan kicks open the door, in that instant and we run through it. The stuffed animals give chase, spilling out into the hall and like water. They bite and scratch at our heels, tearing skin until we manage to make it back to the foyer. Everything goes still and quiet there. Ivan and I stop to breathe, clutching our chests and dropping the flashlights to the ground.

“What happened?” Ivan heaves, clutching his injured hand. “Why did it all happen so fast? What is going on?”

I wipe the sweat from my brow and shake my head. “There’s something really wrong here. It’s like it knows us.”

“Knows you,” Ivan whispers. “Amy, stop trying to deny that this hits too close to home for you. The babies...”

“It’s fine!” I snap.

Ivan glares at me.

“It’s not,” I scoff. “But what can I do about it? The diary pages kept mentioning the pregnancy. Maybe something happened.” I stand back up off the floor. “We need more of the diary to find out what happened in this place.”

Ivan presses his back against the wall. “Maybe we should have gone around town and asked questions before we came here. We sort of let guilt just lead us inside.”

“Let me look at your hand in the daylight.” I approach him and take his hand. “It doesn’t look good, Ivan. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“The man with scissors,” he whispers. “Are you sure it’s not him?”

I glare at his swollen and darkening hand. “I’m sure, Ivan. It’s not him. He’s gone.”

“No, Amy, I’ve seen you touching your neck.” Ivan’s good hand slips around the back of my neck, cupping it gently. “Your father is still with you, isn’t he?”

I look at Ivan, angry and horrified. “Stop acknowledging him,” I snarl.

He nods, but keeps his hand in place. “Sorry.”

“I’m serious, though. We need to get you to the hospital. We can ask questions once we get this taken care of.” I try to open the door, but it’s locked from the outside. “That’s strange.” I knock on the glass and look around, but I don’t see Marni anywhere.

“She said she would be out there praying,” Ivan says softly.

“Maybe she saw something.” I knock again. “Marni!” I call out. “Marni, Ivan’s hurt.  I have to take him to the hospital.”

Ivan nudges me. “Try the radio. She’s supposed to have it with her.”

I take the radio from Ivan’s belt. “Marni, can you read me? Marni? Ivan’s hurt, I need to take him to the hospital. Come open the door, please.”

There’s nothing but crackling and static on the other end.

“Do you think she’s okay?” Ivan asks. “She didn’t come inside when she heard us screaming, did she?”

“I hope to God she didn’t.” I swallow, my mouth horribly dry. “Let me try her again.” I press the button on the radio. “Marni, come in. Marni.” Still only silence and static.

Ivan snatches the radio from me. “Marni! Please answer us now!” The static garbles and there’s the sound of gnashing teeth and breathing. He looks at me, puzzled, and tries again. “Marni, is that you?”

The gnashing and breathing continues, warped into a hollow, distant sound by the static of the radio. A baby cries for a split second, and then the gnashing continues.

“She said she would never come in again,” I whisper in fright.

Ivan takes the radio and bashes it through the glass. Then he reaches his arm through, opening the door from the outside. “I’m not staying here to find out. You saw that dress. You keep seeing that man with scissors.”

Ivan walks out onto the porch, and is struck by a tire iron in the back of the head. I scream, nearly falling backwards into the house. Marni steps into view, turning around and looking back at me. “Marni!” I shriek. “That was Ivan! What did you do?” I kneel to scoop Ivan up.

Marni smiles down at me, approaching with the tire iron held at her side. She tilts her head as she looks down, contemplating the scene before her. I look back up at her, bewildered and shaken. “Marni?” My voice trembles.

“Oops.” Marni kneels down. “Let’s take him back inside and lay him down. We shouldn’t move him right now. He could be concussed.”

She tries to grab his arm, but I hold him close to me. I’m still in a state of disbelief. “He needs to go to the hospital!”

“No.” Marni shakes her head. “You need to stay here.” She pulls on Ivan, tugging me and him along with her.

“Marni!” I snap.

“Come back inside.” She continues to drag both of us, despite her slight frame. She steps into the house and drops Ivan there. Then she reaches out to grab me, yanking me inside with a force I wouldn’t expect from her slight frame. She tosses me inside, then shuts the door behind her.

“What are you doing?” I pick myself up off the floor and take one of the heavy flashlights into my hand. “Let us go!” I raise the flashlight to strike her, but she turns around, grabbing my wrist and forcing me down onto my knees.

“You’ll stay here.” Marni’s voice is low and quiet. “You belong here.”

“No!” I try to fight back against her, but she’s far too strong for me. “Ivan’s hurt! Please!”

Marni’s eyes fall upon the unconscious Ivan, and she smiles again. “Good. He’s quiet now. He won’t interrupt the ladies talking.”

I grunt, trying to reclaim my arm, but she’s holding it in a vise, one that turns more painful the more I try to fight. “Please,” I whimper.

“I have been waiting so long for this moment,” Marni’s voice sounds different. It’s less sweet, deeper, and her accent has changed. “Twice it has been taken from me. But as they say, the third time’s the charm.” She looks from Ivan to me and tilts her chin up. “I told you that your baby would be born to someone who will love them, so I’m afraid I can’t let you out until then.”

“What?” I gasp breathlessly.

“Don’t play dumb, Mrs. Young.” Marni smiles again. “Weren’t you trying to tell me before you didn’t want a child?”

I shake my head and choke on my words.

“You said Ivan was the excited one, the one that wanted a child. But I could see the fear and resentment in your eyes, Mrs. Young. You have no desire to be a mother. You never have, and you probably never will.” She places her hand on her chest. “Unlike me, who was born to raise and love children with all her heart and soul.”

“B-but...you’re a nun,” I stammer.

Marni giggles and throws her head back. She takes off the habit pinned to her hair and tosses it aside. “I suppose you would have to think that, looking at me.” She takes her hair down from the tightly wound bun, letting the strawberry curls flow loosely around her shoulders.

“All I ever wanted is to be a mother, but because of my husband, I was never granted that bliss. Not until I had given up entirely. I had to wait for a blessing, when God thought I was ready.” Marni picks me back up off the ground and smoothes her fingers across my cheek.

“The man with scissors...” I gasp. “He...”

Marni presses her fingertips to my lips to silence me. “Careful, darling,” she coos. “Old memories.”

I shake my head. “I know I’m scared, but I do want this baby. Ivan wants it. Please, let us go. Mother to mother.”

Marni’s smile goes cold and her eyes become distant. She puts her hand around my throat. “That’s the problem! I am not a mother!” She takes her other hand, clasping it around my throat. “I need yours! It’s mine! It was always meant to be mine!”

I’m brought to my knees, choking and gagging, trying to scrabble at her hands and wrists. My eyes roll back, but as they do I see a man standing close. He reaches out to me and I want to recoil from his touch. “Let me go, little one,” he growls. “Let me ruin her too. It will save you.”

I lift my eyes back up to Marni and see a woman I’ve never met before. I never met Marni. What I met was her possessed body. All along, I realize, I had been in the presence of Ethelinda Atherton herself.

Ethelinda’s fingers sink into my neck, and she squeezes the life from me. The darkness in her eyes overpowers the green of Marni’s. Her grin grows, watching as my consciousness fades from this world. “Go to sleep, love,” she whispers to me. “Go to sleep.”

I hear breathing in my ear, slow and rhythmic. I stare up at a ceiling of stained glass, and its red glow pours down over me.

“Ivan?” I whimper. “Ivan…” My voice echoes far away. I know I am not conscious, but I have been in this room before. Once, long ago, I hid here.

“My darling little one,” a voice whispers.

“Go away.”

Footsteps approach, dragging on the floor with heavy chains following behind them. He stands there over me, wrapped in chains and bones. I focus on the red glass above me, keeping my eyes averted from him.

“I can touch her, little one. Let me touch her.” Drool splatters on the ground.

“No.”

He kneels and leans over top of me. “I’m not leaving you, little one. You might as well release some of these chains.”

“I said no, Dad.”

“We are cut from the same cloth. I can hold her. I can protect you. Just let me go.”

“Never again.” I can feel myself beginning to wake up. “You can never leave this room, Dad. I told you. Stop asking.”

“You can’t hide me forever, little one.” He straightens up as the red glass begins to open. “I’ll always be with you, and you will never let go of me.”

“I wish you had never died.” I close my eyes, opening them at the same time. I see the canopy of a bed, and beside me I feel the weight of another person. I sit up and touch Ivan, who is still unconscious. His eyes are held slightly open, and his breathing is so slow.

I stay silent. She, whoever she is, could be out there, waiting for me to wake up. I pat Ivan’s cheek, encouraging him to wake up, but he doesn’t stir.

I clasp my hands and try to keep from screaming. I need to think, I need to stay quiet. There’s so much I need to do, and I feel as though I can’t do a damn thing! I can hear the chains in my head, dragging across the floor as he begs to come out.

The canopy parts, and the scissor blades cut through. I see him peer through, eyes wide and bloodshot, crusty yellow at the corners. His mouth is freshly sewn shut. This time, it’s been sewn so tight that his skin puckers and squeezes around the thread. He drops a book onto the bed and then skitters away quickly. I take the book and see it’s a diary. Calligraphy is scrawled across the cover that says: The Diary of Ethelinda Atherton.

Inside, there are pages torn out - the very ones that Marni, or Ethelinda herself, gave me. The very first remaining page reads:

“Today I am to marry Erique Atherton. He will be the love of my life, the father of my children, and the happiest part of the rest of my life. I cannot wait to spend my life with him. I have always wanted to be a bride, and to think someone like Erique would choose me! I am breathless with anticipation for our wedding, and though I know I should be nervous, I am excited by the prospect of our marriage bed.”

From there, her entries are sparse and far between. Her dates are scattered and her writings brief. Things seem to take a downturn for a while, and then they turn into the pages that I had seen before, almost scared that someone would read it.

The words start to shift before my eyes. What is on the page bleeds away, giving way to new words. The handwriting is much more jagged and rushed than the pretty, dainty letters before. This looks to be written in haste and anger.

“I know God is punishing me because he can’t keep his pen in the same pot. God wants me to change him, to mold him. I need to make him into God’s image! But Erique is too far gone. I have to completely rebuild him. Make him perfect. Make him mine again.” Half the page is scratched out, but I can see crude doodles under it.

“I’ve already started. He needs to think I’m sick. He needs to care for me. I’ll make him care for me. I’ll make him love me. The diary will be my cover. He will read it, I know he will, and he will see that I need him and that he needs to come back to me.”

Ivan stirs beside me. His mouth opens and his chest heaves slightly, and then he goes completely still again.

I reach out to him, cupping his cheek and stroking it. I hope he will wake and be well, but his expression is slack. He’s not asleep. Something else is wrong. I look back at the diary, turning the pages of ranting and anger.

“He hired a girl today. A pretty little doll named Mary Alice. She’s the sort of thing he adores. She’s young, soft, and lovely. To add the insult to my injury, she’s so kind to me. I want to believe that she is doing this out of spite, but I cannot deny that I am drawn to her as well.”

The writing begins to look softer and more thought-out. The pages look less like they were stabbed by a pen, and instead written as if a calm has come over Ethelinda.

“Something has happened, something that makes me overwhelmingly joyous. Mary Alice has worked a miracle, and now Erique is back in my arms. It feels as though he truly loves me again, and when we made love, I could feel God’s blessing flow through me. I think I am pregnant. Oh please, God, please give me your love and plant this seed inside me! All my life I have wanted a child, and now I believe it is true. It is finally happening to me.”

The pages are ripped out again, the ones that she had given me before. I turn to the rest, but I also hear footsteps approaching from the hall.

“Mary Alice has revealed to me that she, too, is pregnant. How can this be? How can I be pregnant if she is as well? I thought Erique had changed, and that was why I was able to get pregnant. That must mean this is a punishment, and the child inside me is not a blessing. God has done this to me, and I must accept it.”

The door opens and slow, purposeful footsteps come into the room. “Are you awake now?” Marni, Ethelinda, whoever she is, says as calmly as can be. “Are you done pretending?”

I tuck the book under Ivan’s back before her hand parts the curtains. She’s wearing the dress made of flesh, which has been dyed green. She smiles at me, and those dark green eyes penetrate deep into me. “Good morning, Mrs. Young. Did you sleep well?”

I glare at her, feeling my guts churn. I rest my hand over my belly. Even if I had questions about becoming a mother, I know that no child deserves to be held in her hands. “I didn’t,” I spit.

She clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “That’s not good for the baby. You need to rest well, so it will come out healthy and strong.”

“How would you know?”

Her smile curdles, turning sour. “Don’t be rude.”

I feel a breath at the nape of my neck. “What do you plan to do with us?” I whisper. “Will you let Ivan go if I agree to let you have it?”

Her eyes flicker over to him. “Why would you want that?”

My chest shudders, and I swallow the hate building in my throat. “I love him, more than anything. I would do whatever I could to protect him.”

Ethelinda chuckles and clasps her hands together. “It doesn’t matter. None of it will. Get up and come with me.”

“And if I refuse?” I ask.

Ethelinda smiles and nods her head. I look to the other side of the bed, where I see the man with scissors take Ivan’s broken hand.

“No!” I scream.

“Do it,” Ethelinda hisses.

The man with scissors slips the blades around Ivan’s finger. With a quick snip, Ivan’s finger falls from his hand. Ivan twitches and writhes in his unconsciousness before flopping to the bed like a dead fish.

I can’t stop screaming. Ethelinda’s hand claps down over my mouth, and she squeezes hard. “Then come with me. He can lose so much worse than a finger.”