The light was welcome, where she was now, for the dark was infectious and blinding. The rain gave way to them as they sat tranquilly on the outskirts of the forest. Where the house should have been, there was a cluster of tall, winding willow trees, restricting the clutch of the horror within. They sat, watching the trees bend and dance in the sightless wind, and although not a sound came from anywhere in the vicinity her mind buzzed with ambient racket.
"This isn't real, is it?" her voice was shaky and distant, muffled by the haze that entwined itself in the mist. It seemed disembodied, though she was aware of that peaceful strumming of her vocal chords.
And then he spoke to her, his voice more grounding and real than anything around her. It was soft and fluid and it held no echo. "No." it said. "It's not real."
"Then…" she quizzed. "Why am I here?"
"Because you wanted to be here."
"I see. Why?"
"It's dark outside. And the dark is terrifying. But you have to wake up, Coraline."
"But what if I don't want to? What if I want to stay here with you?"
Wybie took her hand in both of his, and drew the soft woollen glove from it. He laced his fingers in hers, and melded their hands together. She could feel his eyes on her, but she daren't look.
"Please, Coraline. Wake up. I'm counting on you. Because this place… it won't stay like this for long."
Coraline narrowed her eyes, and her vision rifled through the cluster of the ancient, bowing trees. There was something moving down there in the shadows; its pace quickened, and its formlessness swirled and dodged around the grand old trunks. "I'm not leaving you here, not with that." She said, nodding towards the ominous gloom.
Wybie sighed, and took his hands from hers. Then his icy, smooth skin brushed her quaking chin, and he cradled her quivering lip. She let her head be guided to him, her eyes studying the rush of leaves and shadows that now crept towards them, steadily, across the ground.
"Please wake up," he whispered urgently. And then she looked up at him. And her heart stopped. Perched upon his cheekbones were two black, shiny buttons. "Please, Coraline, wake up. Or you'll end up like me."
And just like that, she was awake. An unpleasant chemical smell lingered around her muzzle, drenched in the sugary sweetness of a toxic coating. Her head was heavy, and her focus hazy, but she was perfectly aware that her nightmare was still contained within another nightmare. The dark outside confirmed it.
Coraline reluctantly turned her aching head toward the window. It was a tiny, dirty thing with a plain brass frame, and a little catch which welded the window shut. Outside there was no moon, no stars, no anything. It was just endless black.
Then she began to study the room. A single oil lamp fizzled and burned away on an old polished wooden bench, where a decorative chest sat locked. A chair of red velvet was tucked underneath; one of its legs was broken.
To the left of that desk pressed against the wall was an ancient-looking loom. The inches of dust that sat upon it were disturbed on the handle, by a fine, pencil-thin set of finger prints. A long black thread wound its way around the contraption, and the end was knotted securely on the spindle.
The rest of the room was bare, but rectangles of pristine wood and wallpaper were dotted about the room, a remnant of the old furniture and photographs which used to inhabit. The plain old door was wide and grey, not like the rich burgundy wood that adorned the rest of the house. It was locked tight.
Coraline pressed her palm against her forehead, and massaged her scalp roughly. Her head was throbbing, and the blood was beginning to circulate once more. She attempted to sit up, but was forced back again by the sheer weight of her torso. And the fact that a heavy, rattling chain bolted her to the wall.
She couldn't find energy to scream; maybe it was the cold, merciless pressure against her throat, or maybe the lack of control her brain provided over her body in this state. But no matter how much she tried, leaving her mouth gaping like a fish, nothing would come, except a croaking, strangulated whispered yelp.
Something occurred to Coraline then. Here she was, at the mercy of a hideous mechanical arachnid, and yet she could see. Her vision was impaired, somewhat, her watery eyes still stinging from the hefty dose of chloroform that had been thrown upon her. But still, her eyes were in no pain. She could see. There were no buttons on her eyes. Silently, she began to weep, and issued a voiceless word of thanks to the universe for protecting her.
Then, the silence of the room was broken. A low clunk, and a rattle, and Coraline whipped her head around to the opposite side of the room. The handle of the door was slowly tilting downward, and the light of the hallway streaming in from the parting of the door from its frame. A tall, distorted silhouette filled the harsh brightness issuing from the world beyond. And then it stepped into the room, and gently closed the world behind it.
The beldam heaved itself a few steps and pulled the chair out from under the table. The beldam spun it around, and took it three paces closer to where Coraline was tethered. The girl tried to edge backwards, but with a dull thud her head hit the empty walls. Her muscles tensed, and she stayed deathly skill.
"Hello, Coraline…" the voice faintly resembled the sing-song tone that had once travelled up that throat, but now it could not even be called human. Two black-button eyes gleamed in the gaunt, cracked face that rested atop a toothpick thin neck, and a set of paper white shoulders were hunched forwards. A smile appeared on the cracked, devilish features of the beldam's sharply defined face, her black lips parted in a triumphant grin.
"It seems you're somewhat restrained."
Coraline furrowed her brow, and spat forcefully on the ground. A trickle of blood hung from her lower lip. "So it would seem." She croaked. "Care to… take this thing off me?"
The beldam cackled, and folded each of her gangly metal legs around one another. "Oh, but this is so fun!" she howled. "All that tough talk, and it seems you're the one in shackles. You're at that age now where a daughter depends less on her mother; the parent is not needed. And sometimes, a child can go a bit wayward. And that's when a loving parent steps in, and uses whatever measure necessary to show the child the error of their ways. Sometimes, you need to do what hurts the most, to achieve the desired result."
"So, what…" Coraline was regaining the use of her voice now, and it came out strong, proud and fearless. "You're scared that I'm gonna kick your ass to hell and back again, so the best you can do is chain me to a wall? For someone who just loves to play games, you're not too abiding of the rules."
The beldam bit her lower lip, and flexed her sharp fingers. She made to get up out of her chair and shake Coraline until she bled, but instead restrained her crooked self. Then she cocked her head to one side, and a menacing, crooked grin ate its way through her cheeks. She stood slowly, and crossed the room to the door. Coraline watched her with narrow eyes.
"It seems I have a previous engagement. Count yourself lucky, girl." The beldam sneered. Coraline raised her eyebrows and strained to swallow a thick pool of blood building up at the back of her throat. She flexed her neck backwards, and let it all rush away.
"Could you at least loosen the damn thing?" she croaked.
The beldam's arm froze upon the door handle, the black glove hanging off her like a long, sodden drape. Each of her four fingers uncurled from the knob, and purposefully rummaged through her skirt pocket. She withdrew a thick copper key, and tossed it carefully so it clunked to the floor, an inch from Coraline's extended reach. "Let yourself out," she hissed. "If you can." And then she left.
Coraline breathed deeply, and arched her back. Her feet, clad in slightly damp, but otherwise comfortable socks, skidded across the old boards. She arched up again, bringing both feet dexterously under her body, and crab-walked them out. Her heels once again gave way, barely centimetres from the key that taunted her from a safe distance. Out of anger and frustration, with just a trickle of hardening defencelessness, Coraline let a warbling, anguished scream rock the entire house.
Up until now, a proud black cat had been gnawing delightedly on a fat grey rat, relishing the sawdust mixed with thick black tar blood as it coated his muzzle. But as a glass-shattering plea ripped through the air, his attention was diverted to the uppermost corner of the sickening pink house. The first thing the cat noticed, was out of the ordinary, was that there was light coming from the singular tiny window up in the corner of the building. It was the beldam's workshop – her retreat, of sorts – which was hardly ever looked upon. The only exceptions were when she was working on a new toy, or on feeding day.
The next thing that cat observed, was the curtains had not been drawn. There was nothing to be seen beyond the house, and the flat rendered background of the world.
And thirdly, and certainly the most alarming, was the sound issuing from the room. A child's scream, no doubt, but with more depth and understanding than a desperate warbling yelp of a minor in peril. It was her for sure. So the cat reluctantly kicked his dinner aside, and darted off into the darkness. He had to find Wybourne.
It wasn't exactly hard. There he was, head over heels in his silly little dazed, blurry world, staring intently at an old framed strip of photographs while he hummed along to the 80's classics CD that blared from a radio on his meticulously-thought out cluttered desk. His window was open, slightly; just enough for a sleek, scrawny and certainly stealthy feline to slip through, and pounce unnoticed upon the boy's messy wet hair.
Wybie dropped the photographs hurriedly, and shoved them back in his coat pocket which lay strewn on the floor. The cat was sitting atop his shoulders, with two paws rested proudly on Wybie's head. The boy grumbled, and swatted at the cat, which leapt down and onto the soft quilted bed. Wybie rolled over, beetroot-faced and disgruntled.
"Wh-what's up?" he asked? "Did you bring me a rat to look at?"
The cat sniffed. If cats had eyebrows in the way humans did, his would have been raised in a superiorly-questioning manner. "As much as I would myself like to indulge in such frivolities," he said. "You and I are needed back at the house."
Wybie rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He then cocked his head over to address the cat. "Why? Did Coraline call me over?"
"Not directly, no." Wybie's face fell. "She more, hollered at the impending doom that has been shackled to her."
"Wait, she's in trouble?" Wybie's torso rigidly jerked itself vertical and he swung his legs onto the floor. Pulling on his muddied sneakers and gloves, Wybie bundled his long black coat up in his arms. The photograph clattered to the floor. He tenderly scooped it back up again, checked it for cracks, and then thrust it into his pocket, fastening it shut. "We have to hurry," he called for the cat as he rocketed down the stairs. "I'm not letting anything hap – …Gramma."
Old Mrs Lovat stood in the hallway, her arms folded impatiently as she tapped her foot on the ground. Her wrinkled brow crouched down low over her button eyes. "And just where do you think you're goin', Wybourne?" she said.
"I… uh… I…" Wybie fumbled and stuttered, his bravado melting away, as the cat circled around his legs, nudging him onwards. He neglected to meet the gaze of his grandmother, even though he knew she wasn't real. He just couldn't.
"You are not leavin' this house, boy." Ms Lovat said sternly. "What's done is done, and let that girl go. Her mother'll make you a new one, one that'll return your feelin's, if that's what you want."
"N-no, that's not what I want." Wybie straightened his back, and towered further over his Other Grandmother. He took a few steps towards her, obliterating any chance of escape she may have for any reason. "Coraline means more to me than anything. Anything. My real gramma is gone, which puts Coraline first. And nothing is gunna stop me from coming to her when she needs me."
The old woman stood indignantly against the wall, staring up into Wybie's stony, dead set expression. She did not waver, for she had nothing to lose. "I am not letting you leave this house, Wybourne." She said. "If you leave, you'll never come back. She'll kill you, and your little girlfriend. Is that really what you want?"
Wybie almost fell back into his old crooked-back habits. He couldn't bear to think of her… dead. He took one deep breath, flexed his abnormally long arms, took a final step forward and apprehended his grandmother.
Mrs Lovat beat frantically at him as he lifted her feet from the ground and tossed her over his shoulder. Her nails dug into the back of his neck, and he bit is lip avidly as she scratched and wailed and pounded at his body. He ignored her screeching demands as he struggled to force her up the stairs, and almost lost his footing on the landing as she nearly got the better of him, and his shoulder slammed into the wall. He kicked open the bathroom door, and tossed the cheap imitation of his family in. She ran at him, but he managed to swing the door closed just in time, and rest his back firmly against the wood as she pounded and scratched at it form the other side. The cat appeared on the floor below, and stared up at him urgently. Wybie launched himself down the stairs, his grandmother bursting from the room behind him, as he sprinted down the stairs, across the living room and out into the fresh night air. He had no time to lose.
Coraline grunted as she tugged again at the 30 centimetres of give she had. The rusty iron chain clunked to the floor as she lay her head down, massaging her neck as far as she could reach. Then she sat halfway up, and tugged again. It felt as though her wrists – and neck – were about to break, but there just had to be a way she could get out. She didn't want to die, not here. When you died here, you never really left.
She struggled to gather back the breath she had wasted, as it frantically escaped her lungs. She gasped and hiccupped as the tears welled up again, and she held them back with all her might. She had to keep going. It wasn't going to end here. She had to see Wybie again, get him out safely…
Then there was a scratching. Coraline froze, mid tug, and shot her vision over at the door. She waited, 1, 2, 3, but the door did not move. The scratching continued. Her head lulled over on its weak bracket and followed the noise intently. There, at the window, shone two icy orbs, a body almost indistinguishable against the black sky. The cat pawed at the window, making shallow gauges in the old dirty glass. She almost called out to him; but remembered the evil that lurked somewhere beyond the room. So instead she stared intently at the cat, and it stared back at her.
The cat knew the window was impenetrable from this side; he was going to need a lot of force to get through. He drew away from Coraline's line of sight, much to her dismay, and swiftly curled down the drainpipe. Wybie was lurking at the house's foundations. "W-well?" he asked.
"I hope you're steady on your feet, because you're needed up there." The cat replied.
Wybie groaned, and looked up at the dauntingly tall 'palace' he was about to scale. But, anything for Coraline.
In close pursuit of the slinky black cat, he fumbled up the drainpipe, clinging for dear life to the wooden support poles. The paint peeled off as he scrabbled across it, and flakes of hideous pink lodged themselves in his hair. It was a feat that nobody saw him; Wybie clumsily commando crawled under the windows on a wing of the roof, the tiles clattering and clinking slightly as he jerked across them. As the windows became scarce, Wybie straightened up, and tip-toed, crouched, to the slightly separate wing of the house, where a tiny rectangle of light glowed in the darkness. The cat leapt up to the sliver of a windowsill, and sat itself down.
Wybie edged across the roof, his back pinned to the clapboard.
"You'll be glad you brought your gloves." It hissed at him. "You're going to need to hit it once, hard. The beldam hears most things."
Wybie nodded, and flexed his fingers, clad in skeletal etchings. Balling up a fist, he wound back, and projected it forcefully through the glass.
It shattered.
The cat leapt through the window, landing clear of the glass that was scattered on the floor. He trotted over to where the big key lay. He gathered it up between his jaws, and transported it over to Coraline, who had her bloodied, tired palms outstretched and waiting.
"Thank you." she whispered as the cat dropped the metal rod into her hands. She fumbled the key around her vicious collar, until it clanked against the lock, and clunked when she turned it, her arm revolving awkwardly backwards in its joint. The device lurched open, and she massaged her skinned red neck. Free at last.
"Come on, now. She probably heard you break the window." Coraline hoisted herself to her feet; slightly unsteady, but able to move. She teetered over to the window, which was embedded in the wall, a few feet above her.
Coraline scanned the room, and hurriedly grabbed the chair that rested neatly at the desk. She toed gingerly through the glass, and laid the chair against the wall, unsteadily clambering on top of it. She thrust her hands through the gaping window, and almost collapsed in shock when a pair of soft, eerie bones clamped themselves around her wrist and tugged her upward, into the night.
Her face was tear-stained and blotchy. Her eyes were swollen and water-logged. Her hair was dirty and matted, and her clothes were ripped. A shiny red grated wound clamped itself on her neck, bleeding from tiny, generously-scattered pinprick holes. But Wybie still found Coraline Jones to be beautiful, and it still made everything right in the world when he locked his arms around her waist and pulled her into a longing embrace.
"Nice… to see you too… Wybie..." Coraline gasped, extending her tired, aching arms around his neck. She caressed his neck and ran her fingers through his hair, taking his breath away. But hers more so. "Oxygen… really is becoming an issue…"
Wybie immediately let her go, and nervously fidgeted. "I'm sorry…" he mumbled. "Just… I just thought I'd n-nearly l-lost you, there."
Coraline chuckled feebly, and took his hand. She led him down the sloping roof, crouching low under the view of the windows. "Me? Never." She whispered. "Frankly I just wanna go home now."
"Agreed." He whispered back. "And… how do we d-do that?"
"Workin' on it." she hissed.
Coraline slid down a wooden pillar, ripping the paint off with her nails as she went. Wybie came down shortly after, and the cat leapt gracefully down from the porch. The three crept round into the inviting shadowed arch of the trees, and formed a tight, whispering circle. Coraline furrowed her brow, and touched her neck gingerly.
"Are you okay?" Wybie asked. He made to touch her wound, but she hastily drew back.
"I'm fine." She replied abruptly, still tenderly cradling her red-hot skin. "Do you… do you guys find it a little odd that the beldam hasn't come after us yet? Because breaking glass is pretty damn loud."
"She's merely humouring us," said the cat, his tail high in the air. "I haven't a doubt she heard the glass break, and that she heard you clamber along the roof. But she's in a mood for games, and soon enough she'll come after you."
Wybie cast a glance back at the Pink Palace, where the daunting gingerbread cottage was illuminated by bright, inviting, childish lights. "I don't exactly wanna stick around much longer."
"That's the problem." Coraline huffed. "She's got a temper, and we've gone and fanned at it. She'll get ruthless pretty damn soon. It's gonna be near impossible getting out."
The cat scaled the tree on which Coraline had been leaning, and looked down on the pair of children. "I suppose I could be of assistance," said he, "in locating this illusive key while you two find a means of escape. I'm confident you'll make a grand entrance." With that, his quivering tail disappeared into the shadows, and he was formless.
Wybie and Coraline stood in silence, as the wind rustled through the trees. "We could… we c-could always just walk right in and get out?" he suggested.
"She's basically a machine," replied Coraline. "She's too fast for us. We'd never get the key and get it into the door at the same time."
"Huh." Wybie pondered for a moment, and then the clockworks of his brain lingered. "About this world…" he trailed.
"Yeah? What?" Coraline raised an eyebrow.
"I-it's just like home, right? Only better."
Coraline laughed dryly. "Supposedly."
Wybie nodded, and smiled. "Well, if sh-she's fast, we'll have to be faster. If she's using machinery, so do we."
"I don't get it." Coraline said. "Nice and slow, please."
But Wybie simply held out his hand, and gestured for her to take it. "C'mon. We don't have much time."
He looked at her pleadingly for a moment, and then she gave in and thrust her palm into his. "All right," she said. "But if we die – or my hair gets ruined – it's all your fault."
"You are insane." Breathed Coraline. "Completely, and utterly crazy. We're going to die."
"Aaahh, don't be so negative!" rallied Wybie. He stood, hands on hips, tall and proud, with a self-satisfied grin on his face. Behind him was a cool, shiny better-than-new version of his childhood means of transport (an old, rickety pedal-powered motor bike). It was fierce and black, with a gleaming exhaust pipe, and as he mounted it and ran his gloved hand along the handlebars his skin prickled up in anticipation. His old skull mask hung across the front. He whisked it up and slammed it on, and beckoned for Coraline to join him on the bike.
"Remember what happened last time I got on your bike?" teased Coraline. "Count 'em, eight stitches. Never, ever again."
"Come on, Jonesey! That was years ago!" came Wybie's muffled response from behind the grinning death mask. Coraline smiled tauntingly as he patted the empty space of leather saddle behind him. Coraline gave in, and swung herself onto the bike.
As she wound her arms around his midriff and leaned her chin on his shoulder, she purred softly, "Oh, Wybourne, you have the charm and grace of a three-legged sloth."
He laughed loudly as the engine roared into life, and revved soundly. It was like sitting atop a perfectly content, yet ever-fierce giant kitten. They pulled out of the workshop behind Wybie's house, and sped off into the trees.
Coraline shut her eyes and grinned contentedly as the wind swum through her hair, brushing the initial, throbbing heated pain from her neck. Wybie provided a warm, steady comfort that only just kept her grounded, while the exhilaration of impending danger and reckless driving whipped all around her. The bike weaved and dodged among the trees, its engine happily humming. The Pink Palace was steadily looming out of the shadows, and it erupted with violent, angered colours. Coraline smiled deviously as she tightened her grip on Wybie, winding her arms around him, working her fingers through the section of his jacket where the fabric intercepted to touch the warm, soft t-shirt underneath. They had a decent chance of winning this thing.
Wybie expertly skid the bike's back wheels to a halt at the steps up to the Pink Palace. The engine's voice lowered, and Wybie flipped up his mask. He looked at Coraline, who gazed at him from her comfy perch on his strong, confident shoulders.
"Y-you ready?" he asked.
"More than ever." She replied.
"Alright. Be ready to open the door."
"Roger. On three."
"One."
"Two."
And then together, with the bike providing the melody, the two let out a fierce and final cry, and accelerated the bike up the steps. Coraline let go of Wybie with her left hand, and just before they were about to crash through the door, turned the knob. The bike did the rest, pushing the door ajar and clear off its hinges, as the two of them roared down the hallway and burst through the doors of the living room. They skidded to a clean halt and burst out laughing, as the beldam stood, horrified, staring at them from the other side of the room.
"Just look at the mess you have made!" she roared. "And you!" she pointed at Coraline, who cracked her knuckles menacingly in Wybie's lap. "I'll teach you to disobey me, pulling a disappearing act and leaving filthy marks on my nice clean carpet!"
Coraline laughed patronizingly, and tilted her neck so as it cracked appraisingly. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry!" she mused. All her previous fears, with Wybie so firmly pressed against her, were obliterated. "How about we come over there and give you a nice, big hug?"
Wybie acted accordingly, and left a big black tyre mark on the floor as they raced towards the beldam, whipping around her flailing, angry self. Coraline balled her hand up into a tight, confident fist, and struck the monster right in the midriff. She howled in pain, and Coraline shook her lightly-bleeding hand. They roared around the room, coming back in for a second hit, this time Wybie tugging off his helmet and slamming it into the beldam's face. She stumbled, dazed and disoriented, and Coraline took a hefty grip on her arm and tugged. The bike accelerated and dragged the mechanical spider with it, tripping over her many spindly legs and falling to the ground. The arm Coraline was holding detached in the process, simply popping out. Coraline shivered, and tossed it to the ground.
"You filthy brats!" the beldam shrieked. "I'll teach you! Come back here!"
They wilfully obliged, Wybie expertly manoeuvring the bike so as the back wheel narrowly missed the wall as they turned around. The arm dragged itself across the floor, fingers skittering on the wood. Before either of them could comprehend what had happened, Coraline and Wybie had catapulted off the bike and were slumped against the wall. The beldam's mechanical arm was completely broken in the bike's gears. The machine spluttered, the lights flickered, and it died.
The world spun and disintegrated around Coraline as she cradled her aching brain. Beneath her, the world was cracking and falling away, and everything becoming flat and less distinguishable. She supposed she was unconscious, or hallucinating; but no, everything was fading into black. Furniture, light, depth and form was all becoming indistinct and shadowy. And the beldam towered over her as this new, endless chasm came into focus.
The mechanical monster teetered on legs that were bent in odd places, and a single arm cradled the stump form which the other had disappeared. What remained of its face was twisted into a glassy, murderous snarl, covered in a shiny tar-like substance. Coraline scrambled back as far as she could, her dilated pupils desperately scanning the abyss for something, anything, which would aid her. The beldam drew nearer, towering over the girl, oozing and dripping and clanking like a broken clock.
The black glove that tapered up the beldam's singular arm began to slip lower, catching and ripping on the rusted, pointy needle joints. The shredded remains snaked lower, and fluttered to the ground where they were seemingly-absorbed by the gloom. The beldam drew its wrist to the slightly-too-long teeth that stuck awkwardly from behind ebony lips, and tugged. A long, black trail of thread drooped out, with a thin, silver finger dangling from the end. The beldam held it between her teeth and let her hand free, and slowly walked it up her cheek and to rest under her round button eye. The fingers snaked underneath and she winced, as a light snapping was heard. Speedily, she withdrew her fingers, and laid a palm on her cheek; the button dropped into it.
Coraline tried to scream as the monster leapt upon her, snarling and cackling as the girl struggled under her. The button was slammed down upon Coraline's eye, and she attempted to blink it off. But the beldam kept a firm, sharp hand upon it, her fingers piercing the soft skin around. Her teeth slowly let down the fine thread and upon it the needle, until it clicked lightly against the dull black surface of the plastic. Coraline kicked and flailed and shrieked coarsely, but she was overpowered.
Skin ripped and shredded as the hand slid from her face. The beldam's shrill, annoyed cry echoed around the dark space as she tumbled off of Coraline, and slammed into the floor. Coraline cradled her aching face, and wiped the blood from her eye. She sat up, and looked over. Wybie was kicking the beldam, over and over again, in the face. She was howling and clanking like an old toy as enraged assault after enraged assault descended upon her. The black tar blood oozed from every crack, every crevice, as she blindly kicked each of her six legs around the floor. Wybie jumped over each of them nimbly, and landed another kick upon the monster's midriff. A fresh spurt of blood burst from within, like a withered fruit expelling its juices, and coated his canvas sneaker. It was enough, just enough, to make him lose his footing.
Wybie's feet collapsed from underneath him, his body landing heavily on the ground. It was the beldam's turn for revenge, as each of its disfigured feet pierced the boy's stomach in quick succession. He groaned and screamed, a strangled caterwauling rocking the structure of the infinite black. Another strong kick to the stomach, and he was silenced. He lay still.
Coraline sat with one hand over her eye, as the world once again turned to haze. Blood stuck to her eyelashes, and when she blinked her vision was temporarily impaired, her eyes sealing shut. She didn't want to open them, because she knew they would instantly be met by reality. Reality was uncertain, and cold, and slow. But inside her head, there was always Wybie.
He'd called her Jonesy. He'd called her crazy. He'd called her Caroline, of all things. He walked as if an anvil was strapped to his shoulder, and his face was often the most adorable shade of pink. His presence was always accompanied by the spluttering, whirring sound of a makeshift motorbike, and he was so socially awkward it was sincerely cringe-worthy. She remembered the day he'd gotten his braces, and she had to pin him down in the mud and pry his mouth open with her fingers just to see them. She remembered when they'd gone to the cinema, and she'd said something – for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was – and he'd looked at her that way. That way. She remembered the pictures they'd taken in that photo booth, and how she'd let him keep them. Twenty years later, they sat, in mint condition, upon an age-old bookshelf.
They were kids then, and they were kids now. She wasn't going to let him go.
It could have been the blood, or it could have been raw emotion, but as she propelled herself from the ground, Coraline saw everything in a vivid shade of red. Her mangled feet pounded against the barely-there ground as the beldam, not thirty feet away, drew up to her full height. The gap closed, and the monster grinned. And Coraline leapt then, and slammed the beast's head into the ground.
It screamed in agony as Coraline's neatly-kept blue nails sunk into paper-thin flesh, and clamped around the single eye she had left. Coraline tugged with all her might; the disc popped effortlessly away, and her arm shot back and flung it aside. She began to scratch and dig and pry at the haggard, menacing face as its muscles contracted and froze and jutted. She was animalistic, and certainly not herself. She relished the writhing, screaming agony of the murderous insect at her mercy. Her hands were smeared with thick, warm blood and it clogged every single pore on her body.
"How do you like it!?" Coraline hollered, her voice shrill and dripping with malice. "How does that feel? My finger carving at your cheeks!"
The beldam chuckled painfully, her exposed wiry tendons tautening and releasing. "Is that … any way… to treat your mother?"
Coraline screamed, and took a fresh gash into the face of the beldam. It fell apart, exposing old blackened bone. "My mother lives in Australia with my dad!" she screamed, swiping at the face once again. "She gets annoyed when I wear my sneakers on the hardwood floors!"
The beldam grinned, gums bloodied and bare. Coraline thrust a fist into its few remaining teeth.
"My mother called me a month ago to critique my book!" Coraline shut her eyes and pulled her lips tightly over her teeth as an eruption of black blood splattered across her face, neck and torso. "My mother always buys lemonade when I visit because she knows how much I like it!" A sickening crack echoed around the cavern, and a less than human scream broke apart in the air. Coraline withdrew her fist from the beldam's punctured cranium, and with every syllable, blindly forced it down once more.
"My mother loves me! And she doesn't -" Crack. "Kill - " Rip. "My - " Scream. "Friends!" Silence.
Beneath her, the twisted form dissolved and burned away, disappearing into the black. Coraline sat alone in the dark, eyes glued closed, sobbing, her forearms completely immersed in that tar-like blood. She breathed in deep and slow, tear tracks melting away the stains that littered her cheeks. Everything was silent, save for her. So she opened her eyes.
A heavy black key sat in the pile of twining ash and blood on which Coraline was perched. Slowly, she crept her right hand up to it, and caressed the cold, smooth surface. She took it to her chest, and cleaned it on her sweater.
Suddenly, the space began to creak and rumble. She looked around frantically, stumbling to her feet, the button-topped key clamped tightly to her heart. A light in the dark, indistinct but there nonetheless, flitted about in the disintegrating black. She teetered towards it on her short, spindly legs, and as Coraline grew closer she observed the shape becoming more defined. It was Molly.
Her voice was fading with her image, flickering like a silver flame. She looked urgently at Coraline. "He's still alive." She said. "You guys have to go. This place is collapsing."
Coraline dived upon Wybie' and cradled his head in her arms. He was breathing; just barely. She looked up at Molly. "Aren't you coming too?" she yelled over the crescendo of toppling blackness.
Molly looked remorsefully over Coraline's shoulder, and took a step back. "My mommy isn't waiting for me anymore."
"What do you mean? She wants to know you're - "
" – It's before my time. I can't leave here. Please, you're still alive. Save your own soul."
Molly wasn't going to move. Coraline saw that. She hoisted Wybie carefully from the floor; he was heavy over her shoulder, but she could bare him. She looked around the untouched black space as she could feel it melting away. Then she looked frantically back at Molly.
"There's no door!" she hollered. "How do we get out?!"
Molly closed her eyes, and then pointed over Coraline's shoulder. Sure enough, there sat a little black door. It was unsupported and alone, and a faint white light glowed from behind it.
She dived for the door, scrambling on her knees with Wybie slung on her back. She fumbled with the key in the lock, each time she thrust the end it rebounded off the metal surrounding the hole.
"Come on, come on, come on!" Coraline felt the tears of frustration welling up, but she hastily blinked them back. She had to get out. At least, get Wybie out.
Finally, the key slid neatly through the hole. Coraline turned the key, and the door flung open. Behind her, the blackness had begun to fall away. Over her shoulder she watched shards of dark fall down and disintegrate in midair, and become nothing but clean, solid nothing. It wasn't white, or black, or endless. It was simply nothing. And in the middle of it all, was Molly.
"I can't hold this place up much longer!" the girl called. "Go now, hurry!"
Coraline nodded, and waved goodbye to Molly. She thought of her mother, and then what Molly had said about her. It puzzled her, but she wasn't in the mood for thinking. Blocking all slow, lateral thought from her consciousness, Coraline scooted into the hole dragging Wybie behind her. One arm was looped under both of his, while the other, plus her legs, worked overtime dragging him through. She clambered over him to pull the door shut, but it had already begun to fall away. So she kept going.
As she pulled his body along, screaming and huffing at the tiring, endless race, the tunnel began to fall away. It simply just dropped. It became less solid to the touch, and the endlessness was dizzying. Coraline felt herself growing weak, as everything in her head spun out of control. Soon she was pulling her own weight as well as Wybie's, and it was excruciating. But in the hazy, scarce vision she still held onto, she could see a grey light drawing ever closer. So she kept pulling, and pulling.
And just as the solidity fell from beneath her feet, Coraline and Wybie burst from the disintegrating corridor, and she gave way to the beckoning unconsciousness.