The Invitation

Tracks: “Melancholia” by Ryan Creep and “In the House, In a Heartbeat” by John Murphy

Emmaline stood at the window of her spartan bedroom. All furnishings had steadily been removed by his command. Leaving her eventually with nothing.

The bars on the windows held her in like a caged beast. Reminding her that her fate was no longer her own. It hadn’t been hers for many years.

Her family had tricked her. Sold her out. To him. She hated all of them for their betrayal. Her lip curled up instinctively as she thought about how much she truly hated them all. They were all monsters. None more so than him.

Glancing down at herself, her fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders. Draping delicately in front of her breasts. She smoothed down her white linen nightgown to expose her small rounded bump.

She had always wanted children. Many of them, in fact. But when she looked at her steadily growing stomach over the past few months, all she could muster for it was fear and disdain. There was no longer any joy or happiness in her life. Only darkness. Brought on by him. He was the center of it all.

She wasn’t even sure if he knew about the child. He hadn’t come to visit her since the encounter that left her pregnant and desperate. As if he were pretending she no longer existed. Only sent in the servants to check on her and feed her, but she refused all of their help.

Looking in the window where she cast no reflection, she knew that her normally bright blue eyes were slightly sunken in from lack of sleep. Her cheekbones were more sharply pronounced due to the extreme weight loss from refusing to eat. And her skin was the palest and sickly pallor she’d ever had. She was a terrible sight, but she feared none of it was enough.

For the past several years she started to lose track of what was real and what wasn’t. Shadowy figures seemed to follow her everywhere, but then nothing would be present. Whispered voices only she could hear taunted her. Nightmares plagued her whenever she closed her eyes leaving her a bitter husk.

Her sanity was all but gone at this point and she knew she had to end the torment now before her child would be met with the same fate. And that, she could never allow.

Shuffling of the antique metal door knob drew her attention as someone slowly unlocked the door. The antique hinges groaned as the door was pushed ajar only enough for the chambermaid to enter. Ignoring the poor woman, she returned her gaze out the window that overlooked the rose garden. Even at night, it was stunning. The white roses, which were Emmaline’s favorite, appeared to reflect the delicate light of the full moon.

“Mistress, you must eat something,” Ms. Swift begged. Her hands were folded delicately in front of her as she wrenched her fingers in worry. She had been trying to get Emmaline to eat something, anything, for months but she always refused. The master was growing increasingly frustrated about it and Ms. Swift knew it was only a matter of time before he took his frustration out on her.

Per usual, Emmaline did not respond to Ms. Swift nor even acknowledge the presence of another person in her room. Ms. Swift inspected Emmaline’s gaunt and sunken features carefully. Noting how much weight she had lost. She worried about her so much that many times it kept her awake at night. Trying to come up with any new idea to help encourage her mistress to eat or speak.

Resigning the fate of their conversation, Ms. Swift moved into the bathroom to tend to the cleaning and linens. It was the only property Emmaline was still allotted. Everything else in the room had been removed to prevent her from harming herself. None of the linens were large enough and a clean nightgown was dropped off daily for her to change into.

She was a prisoner in her own home. She was a prisoner in her mind as well.

Ms. Swift hated all of the rules, but she was just a chambermaid. Her opinion meant nothing. When Ms. Swift realized Emmaline had stopped eating, she started nibbling on the food to make it appear as if the mistress ate something. That gave the poor woman a reprieve from the master’s anger slightly, but with the rapid weight loss, it was hard to ignore any longer.

Ms. Swift picked up the dirty linens and nightgown from the small pile in the corner. Replacing everything with fresh ones along the shelf.

Emmaline turned her attention to the distracted chambermaid and then back to the closed door. Ms. Swift never locked the door behind her since Emmaline never budged from her spot of looking out the window. Once again, Emmaline’s eyes darted to the bathroom as Ms. Swift hummed quietly while she cleaned. And then back to the door.

Moving silently, Emmaline tiptoed her way quickly to the door and tested the doorknob. It was unlocked, just like she thought. Opening the door enough for her to slide through, the hinges groaned and Ms. Swift’s humming ceased. Emmaline’s eyes widened in fright as Ms. Swift ran from the bathroom just before Emmaline darted out the door.

Emmaline ran as fast as she could through the empty hallways of the mansion. Panicked voices in the distance were screaming “find her!”

But Emmaline knew this house as well as anyone and dodged the more populated portions. Shadows and whispers tried to pull her back. Scare her. Send her back into the dark recesses of her mind where they would be safe from her scorn. But she ignored them. Her mind was made up and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

Slipping into one of the music rooms, she found the grand piano with the lid lifted. The shiny black surface looked as if someone had just walked away from it. She could still hear the alluring melodies he used to play for her. Slowly, she ran her fingers along the ivory and onyx keys.

Her eyes lifted to the inside of the piano where large wires ran up and down the length of it. Small hammers positioned near the keys were all frozen in place, waiting to strike the wires and make music.

Reaching in, she carefully unthreaded one of the longer wires from both ends. Running it along her hand, she inspected the strength and knew exactly what she had to do.

With her wire, she peeked her head out of the door and looked both ways down the hallway. The shouts were still off in the distance and she was alone. Rushing to the railing, which overlooked the foyer, she quickly wrapped one end of the piano wire around the banister.

The other end, she wrapped multiple times around her neck. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she felt it force itself past the tight coils of the wire. Her heart was pounding heavily in her chest, but she refused to back down.

Reaching out to one of the nearby busts that littered this expanse of the hallway, she held it up to her chest. It was heavier than she was expecting. Carefully, she slung one leg over the banister quickly followed by the second. Holding the white, marble bust tightly to her chest she positioned her legs to hang over the railing.

Chancing one last glance at her small stomach, she rubbed her hand lovingly over it. She was saving them both.

“His treachery ends here.”

Straightening at the waist, she slipped from the banister toward the floor of the foyer. The piano wire caught her after a few feet, snapping her neck instantly. The bust crashed to the floor loudly.

Panicked voices and screams of torment ripped through the large mansion. Their mistress was dead.