She lay beside our mother. Her body was not broken into shreds like the rest of our family’s were. Kane had spared her at least that. Her hair still wore crimson, her wrists marked by long cuts.
“It’s a gift.”She had told me before—
“I do not wish to stay without Frederick and Eleanor,”she’d said.“This is a gift.”
Oh, how I wished for such a gift at that moment. How I wished for the Moon to take my soul, despite my unfulfilled oath.
Had Sandra been there when Fredrick and Eleanor were murdered? Had she been forced to watch such horrors?
Were they together now, in Moon’s paradise, safe and sound?
“I am sorry,” I whispered to them all. “I am so sorry.”
Francis’ gaze bored into my flesh before he cleared his throat, his voice as soft as velvet, “Which ring is it?”
“Her ring finger,” I replied, staring at Mother’s ruby stone that no longer sparkled: covered in blood and soil. Identical to the one Ash had given me. “Her wedding ring,” I said, almost laughing.
The irony wasn’t lost on me... The woman who surely hadn’t loved my father, put so much meaning and purpose into the symbol of their marriage.
Francis moved to my mother, removing the ring from her hand. My gaze was planted on her face.
Mother looked peaceful. The most peaceful I had ever seen her. Her sharp features now softened, her withering gaze now hidden, her edged lips tendered.
I forced air into my lungs, giving a small nod to Francis before he closed the cap.
“I love you,” I told my family as the first pile of dirt fell onto the casket.
The trip to the cabin was a dream—a nightmare—brought to life. The faces of my loved ones, engraved in my mind, walked alongside me every step of the way. My eyes closed in an attempt to rid myself of the horrid memories in vain.
Francis fought with the frozen lock of the cabin’s door when the darkness crept into my wrecked mind, daring me to act upon its wicked needs.
“Cordelia?” Francis started, opening the door for me. “If you wish to talk—” he trailed off as I rushed into the cabin, walking straight for the ladder next to the black-painted door.
I’d never been in the room on the second level, as it was the residence of Roxanne and Florence. I wished not to indulge in their private space, yet in that moment I could not find it in me to care. I knew what I had to do to be rid of the memories from this vile night; I knew what I had to do to bring slight justice to the pain I’d inflicted upon my sister.
“I wish to be alone,” was all I said before climbing the ladder and shutting the door closed.
The room darkened as I walked in. The drawn curtains kept the rising sun at bay. I scanned the space until my eyes landed on the bedside table that carried a candelabra with three unlit candles; my heart skipped a beat in anticipation of the upcoming repose.
I took the bronze flint out of the pocket of my dress as my shaky legs carried me towards my salvation. My lungs squeezed shut.
My trembling hands held the flint as I watched the candle catch flame. An invisible hand squeezed my lungs, refusing to let air in as I stared down the flame: my imminent punishment, my imminent relief.
The candle chanted, frantically dancing, putting me under a spell I was unable to resist.
I watched her face inside the flame. Her disappointed eyes bored into mine.
“Forgive me, little sister,” I told the flame.
The fire sparkled, inviting me to receive what I deserved. My breathing turned frantic.
I set the candle on the bedside table, rolling up the sleeves of my tunic.
“Forgive me.”
I brought my exposed skin to the flame, surrendering it to the pain.
My eyes squinted in anticipation until the fire delivered its punishment.
