Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

simply stared. I didn't have the strength to scream again. I lifted my hand and waved and then my knees gave out and I fell very hard and very fast to the ground. I lay there, too exhausted to try to move. Instead, I closed my eyes.
    I don't care anymore, I thought. I don't care. Let it end this way. We're both better off, my baby and me. Let it end. My prayer reverberated down the long, hollow corridor of my darkened mind. I didn't even hear anyone come; I didn't hear Papa shouting; I didn't feel myself being lifted. I kept my eyes closed and settled softly in my own comfortable world, a world away from pain and hate and trouble.
    Days later, Vera told me Charles said I had a smile on my face all the way back to the house.

 
    13
LITTLE CHARLOTTE, SWEET CHARLOTTE
     
    "How dare you do this after Papa and I have worked so hard to keep the shame a secret!" Emily screeched down at me. With great effort, I opened my eyes and looked up at her twisted, angry face. Never were her stone-gray eyes as wide or as hot with rage. The corners of her contorted thin lips cut into her cheeks, and the center of her lower lip dipped so far, her dull teeth were exposed to her pale gums. Her lackluster hair dangled down the sides of her face, the dry strands split. Her fiery wrath made her snort through her small nostrils like a mad bulldog.
    Shafts of sharp pain shot through my stomach, down to my groin and back up the sides of my body. I felt as if I had been lowered into a bathtub of kitchen knives. I groaned and tried to sit up, but my head was a lump of iron and I hadn't the strength in my neck to lift it an inch off the pillow. As best I could, I gazed around my room. For the moment I was so confused, I couldn't recall anything. Had I left the room, really snuck out and gone for a walk through the forest, or was that all a dream? No, it couldn't have been a dream, I thought. Emily wouldn't be screaming and wringing her hands about a dream.
    Where was Papa? Where were Charles and Vera and anyone else who had assisted in my return? Did Mamma hear all the commotion and ask to know what had happened to me?
    "Where were you? What were you trying to do?" Emily demanded. When I didn't respond, she took hold of my arm and shook me until I opened my eyes again. "Well?"
    The pain took my breath away, but I gasped out my answer.
    "I just . . . wanted to go outside, Emily. I . . . just wanted to take a walk and see . . . flowers and trees and . . . feel the sun on my face," I said.
    "You fool, you little fool," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sure it was the devil himself who opened your locked door and urged you to go out."
    Pain made me want to cry out, but I ignored it and fired back at Emily instead.
    "No it wasn't, Emily. I did it myself because you and Papa made me desperate!"
    "Don't you blame it on us. Don't you dare blame anything on me or Papa. We did what we had to do to restore righteousness in this house," she replied quickly.
    "Where is Papa?" I asked, looking around again. I expected him to be in a worse rage, a veritable storm of anger raining curses and threats over me.
    "He's gone for Mrs. Coons," she said, practically spitting the words down at me. "Thanks to you."
    "Mrs. Coons?"
    "Don't you know what you've done? You're bleeding. Something's happened to the baby inside you and it's all your fault. You've probably killed it," she accused, and stood back, her head bobbing on her long neck, her bony arms folded under her chest. Her skin was milk white at her pointed elbows.
    "Oh no," I said. That was probably why I had so much pain. "Oh no."
    "Yes. Now you can add murderess to your list of sins. Is there anything or anyone you haven't touched or confronted and destroyed or harmed, anyone beside me?" she asked, and then quickly answered her own question. "Of course not. Why Papa expected it would be any different, I don't know. I told him; I warned him, but he thought he could make it all right again."
    "Does Mamma know what happened to me?" I asked. Nothing Emily said mattered anymore to me. I decided to simply ignore her.
    "Mamma? Of course not. She doesn't know what happened to herself," Emily retorted, "much less anyone else . . ." She turned and started away.
    "Where are you going?" I struggled to raise my head a few inches. "What are you going to do?" I cried.
    "Just lie there and shut up," she muttered back, and left me, shutting the door behind her.
    My head fell back to the pillow. I was afraid to move anyway. The