Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words,
Remembers me of his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.
~ William Shakespeare
The Borgia family sat at the dinner table in their dining room, a room next to the kitchen and opposite their living room. The table was full of delicious Mediterranean food as Vanozza was a stereotypical Spanish mother when it came to meals. They were bored. Juan was sulking over his leg and dreading the on-coming night. Lucrezia was worrying over the sullen mood of the men in the house as well as thinking over the mysterious and frightening events of the day; would Cesare allow her to spend the night with him? She wanted to ask right there, but had the feeling her brother and father would disapprove so would wait until after dinner when they were alone. Rodrigo was staring at the meal that was steadily going cold as his wife stood out in the foyer hollering up the stairs for Joffre to come down already. He was thinking that his life was always going to be this and the thought horrified him. Cesare ignored everyone and was playing on his phone, not caring that it drove his parents insane to have his phone at the dinner table, and all the while secretly worrying about the inevitable bullying that would face them all at school.
"Joffre!" bellowed Vanozza, "get down here!"
"He's probably asleep again," sighed Juan.
"He has been sleeping a lot," frowned his sister.
"He's just tired from the move," smiled Rodrigo, though the smile never reached his eyes.
"JOFFRE!"
Rodrigo sighed and swallowed his irritation with his wife, "just go up there," he barked, "like Juan said, he's probably asleep!"
Vanozza let out a shrill grunt before stomping up the stairs. The family momentarily relaxed in the relative silence. The tap-tapping of Cesare's phone was incessant.
"Who are you even texting?" sneered Juan, "you don't have any friends!"
Cesare sighed long-sufferingly and answered without looking up, "you don't have any friends moron, though not for want of trying. I just don't like people."
Juan sat back and crossed his arms, a smug smile on his lips, "whatever. You just don't make any friends. And F.Y.I, I do. People like me. Especially 'cause I was Football Captain in our old school."
"Only because dad paid the school to let you," Cesare looked up from his phone to see his dad flapping his mouth open and shut like a fish and Juan gaping at him, "oh did you think I didn't know?" Now was Cesare's turn to look smug, "I actually did and, erm, "F.Y.I." so did everyone else."
Just as the others were about the cut in, there was a huge, throat tearing scream from upstairs.
It was a terrible scream, one that was so loud it echoed down the street and all the neighbours heard it. Most of them continued with their evening, it being common knowledge that screams of terror and misery were to norm in what they called The Murder House. Next door, Catherina Sforza allowed herself a nasty smirk and muttered, "one down, five to go…"
In the kitchen, the ghost of Roberto jumped a little when he heard her scream and the thing in the basement began to writhe and twist.
The family got to their feet and all of the pounded up the stairs (Juan at the rear as his leg was still heavily injured.) All hearts were beating fast and in the minds of the children were supernatural horrors; visions of their mother being attacked by a black-haired girl or something like the thing Juan saw in the basement. Bile was already rising in Lucrezia and Juan's throats, but Cesare was already trying to think about how one might kill a ghost.
Rodrigo was the first to enter Joffre's room, and the first to run back out crying out in horror. Then the siblings entered, all of them paling considerably. Juan was almost immediately sick and Lucrezia let out a wail like an injured animal before bursting into tears and sinking to the floor. Cesare just watched with wide eyes.
The heavy oak wardrobe was face down on the floor. It was surrounded by congealed blood. The little, white arm of Joffre was sticking out of one end. The sight was horrific, almost comedic in cartoon absurdity which made it worse.
Juan sank down next to his sister, like Rodrigo and Lucrezia his eyes were fixed to the floor. Only Cesare and Vanozza looked with wide eyes at the horror beneath them.
Shock caused Cesare's emotions to shut down and all he could think was, 'what was Joffre doing lying under the wardrobe, and how did it fall like that?'
Vanozza was holding the cold dead hand and weeping heavily.
Juan dragged himself across the floor and followed his father out of the room. Rodrigo was in the hallway, his head down. Juan felt in his pocket and pulled out his mobile with a shaking hand. For the second night in a row, an ambulance was called to the Borgia residence.
Cesare slowly sunk down on to one knee, reached out his hand and touched the cold fingers of his crushed brother. Tears sprung to his eyes but never fell. Cesare had loved Joffre and only in the moment of losing him did he realise how much.
xxXXxx
Neighbours stood out in the road watching quietly as the remains of Joffre, wrapped from head to toe in a pale grey blanket, was carried out of the house on a stretcher. It had taken a long time for the hospital crew to piece Joffre together to put him on the stretcher. The fire-fighters had to be called to lift up the wardrobe. They had all insisted that none of the family be there for when it happened, especially as the parents had become increasingly hysterical. Joffre was barely recognisable. His face was smashed to a pulp and almost every bones in his body broken. His muscles had been torn and there was a lot of blood and tissue engrained on the wardrobe and carpet. The emergency staff were all professionals, but one ambulance staff member had wiped away a few tears and a number of them would be referred to a therapist after they returned to work.
Catherina Sforza, also standing outside with the rest of the neighbourhood, albeit slightly separate from the rest of them, looked up to see Cesare Borgia standing on the threshold of his home. Their eyes met and she graced him with a small smile. He did not return it but instead with a blank look closed the front door. Her own shallow smile slipped off her face. She recognised that dead-eyed look. Towards the end, before he shot all the students in his class, she had seen the same look on her eldest son Benito.
But still, it seemed that the Sforza's sanity had lasted a lot longer than the Borgias. She reckoned that this family wouldn't even last as long as the gay couple had.
xxXXxx
They say that the death of a child is the worst thing a parent can go through, not just because of the devastation of losing a loved one, or that the death of a child always holds a degree of horror within it, but because a child dying before its parent is so unnatural. Neither Rodrigo nor Vanozza would ever really recover from the loss of Joffre, even though they would both try to replace him in their own ways. However out of the two parents it would be Vanozza who would suffer the worst, perhaps because she was secretly the most fond of Joffre, perhaps because he was the most like her, perhaps because she was the one who had found him and was with his remains the longest.
Vanozza was currently in the Drawing/Living Room on the settee surrounded by police officers and ambulance staff. She had a blanket wrapped around her and she was staring off into the distance, no expression on her face. There were a few whispers about 'shock' but she hadn't registered hearing them.
Curled up on a small armchair in the same room was a sleeping Lucrezia. After the initial shock and misery wore off, she had become hysterical, screaming that the monster that had come after her had killed Joffre. When the ambulance arrived they'd been forced to sedate her. Even now in her sleep there were tear tracks on her cheeks and her eyes were puffy and red from tears. She frowned and whimpered, asleep but unable to rest.
In her mind, she was in the living room. It looked similar to how it did normally, but the wallpaper and carpet seemed new and fresh. There was a strong smell of lemon in the air. A woman in a pretty dress and pearls entered the room. She was crying softly, even as in her rubber-gloved hands she sprayed the coffee table and wiped it down. That' where the lemon smell was coming from; the scent of her cleaner.
There was a slam of the front door and it startled the blonde woman. She skipped to the window and watched as a car pulled away.
She turned back and sighed in relief. She pulled off the gloves and walked towards the wall where the light switch was. She then knelt down and pulled at the wood panelling at the bottom of the wall. It came free easily and she pulled out a record that had been hidden in there. She smiled and blew off some of the dust before popping it on to a record player. It was then that Lucrezia realised what was so odd… the television was old fashioned, there was a record player and she was wearing some old-fashioned dress. This was from the past, like the 1950s or so.
The record began to play and a sad song rang out. Lucrezia shivered because it was so haunting. The woman began to cry softly again as she sat on the floor listening. Outside, the car pulled up again.
Lucrezia wanted to scream out to the woman, but she couldn't do anything. It was as if she wasn't even there.
Whoever was in the car must have been sneaky, because Lucrezia didn't even hear the front door before the man came in and stood at the doorway of the living room.
The blonde saw him and leapt to her feet.
"I'm sorry!" she cried, "I'm sorry!"
But the man was on her already, beating her viciously. He slapped her a few times before heaving her to her feet and punching her in the face. She fell backwards, smashing into the large mirror that was on the wall, before falling on to the record player.
He called her a clumsy bitch and kicked her once in her stomach. She lay on the ground sobbing as the scene went dark.
Lucrezia opened her eyes and saw that she was in the same living room, only it was older and full of policemen and a few emergency medical staff. She sat up, feeling the heavy tears still falling from her eyes, her body shaking from shock, and saw that across the way her mother was looking at her in exactly the same way. Without saying anything, Lucrezia knew that she and her mother had shared the same dream.
xxXXxx
In the kitchen Rodrigo was on his seventh coffee in less than forty minutes. He paced up and down anxiously. Juan was sitting at the table watching him guiltily. He felt like shit. Cesare had told him to talk to father in order to get him to give up the house. But instead Juan had thought about himself and his own freedom and had been so keen to piss off Cesare that he hadn't done anything; and now Joffre was dead. Juan loved Joffre, he loved him more than the others, but now he was gone and Juan would have to carry that burden of his own guilt for the rest of his (short) life.
Juan let out a heavy and rubbed his dry, arid eyes. He had been crying a lot, silent, angry tears, but now like his father he had run out of them. He was simply too exhausted to keep mourning.
Was there any point in saying anything now? He thought of his mother, of Lucrezia and even Cesare. He didn't want any of them dead.
"Daddy," he said quietly. Rodrigo jerked his head in Juan's direction but didn't look directly at him. "Daddy, I think…I think we should all leave the house," Juan gulped, "maybe we could stay in a motel or something tonight, but then look for a new house tomorrow."
Rodrigo tightened his jaw and turned away.
Juan stared before pushing on, "I mean, I fell and hurt myself last night and now today… dad we've only been here two days and look!"
But Rodrigo simply stormed out of the kitchen, leaving his slightly stunned son alone. Well, not completely alone, of course the ghost of Roberto was there.
'Hm, reminds me of Paolo,' thought the ghost, watching events with vague interest. 'I suppose the dad is already in too deep.' He felt a little bad for the family, but he was happy for Sancia, at least she wouldn't be lonely now.
Darkness fell over the sad haunted house of the Borgia family.
The emergency staff were gone and all the neighbours had returned to their homes.
Vanozza sat on her and Rodrigo's bed. Rodrigo was in their en-suite bathroom. He had said very little to her all evening and she knew that he was avoiding her. Rodrigo was not good in these sorts of situations. The drugs the hospital staff had injected into her veins were still coursing through her system, but now she felt numb. Joffre's room had been cordoned off. No one had said it but she knew what they all had been thinking; Joffre's death was her fault. The wardrobe was large and heavy. It should have been shackled onto the wall, but in the hurry of the move, then Juan being rushed to hospital, they hadn't time. Hell, most of the household items were still in boxes. They had only been in the house two days. But still, it made no difference, the wardrobe was a hazard and now her youngest baby was dead.
She wanted nothing more than to gather up the rest of her babies and have them sleep with her that night, but she knew that they would refuse. Cesare was too old and too independent and Lucrezia would rely on him for comfort, not her mother.
"Maybe Juan," she thought, "even though he loves his father more than me."
She got off the bed and wandered in to the hallway. Across from her room stood Joffre's door. Police tape covered the front of it. There was a ghost of a child's voice and a giggle. She frowned and walked over to the door putting her ear next to it. She swore she could just about hear her baby boy's voice and he was talking to someone. Vanozza frowned, but that couldn't be…could it?
"Mom?"
She jumped a little and looked up the stairs to see Cesare looking down at her. He looked calm.
"What are you doing mom?"
She shook her head, "nothing darling. Go to bed."
A ghost of a smile was on Cesare's lips, though she could see how superficial it was, there was no warmth in those sad dark eyes.
"You should go to bed as well mom."
"I want to check on your brother and sister first."
"Lu is in here. We're sharing the bed…bedroom."
Vanozza nodded distractedly. There was an awkward silence before Cesare bid his farewell and closed his bedroom door.
Darkness ruled the corridor once more. As she carefully walked down to the first floor she realised that it wasn't at all surprising that Juan had tripped and fallen the other night. There were no light bulbs in the corridor lights yet. More stellar parenting from herself. She sighed, they should have checked the house over before moving in.
Suddenly she heard fast running footsteps and a childish giggle behind her. She whirled around, her breath caught in her throat but all she saw was darkness. She was tempted to call out 'hello' but that's what idiots in scary films did. There was no young child up there; her boy was gone. It was just the drugs in her system, they were making her go a little loco, that was all.
Vanozza arrived on the first floor and pushed open Juan's room. He hadn't unpacked anything apart from his i-player, his large headphone and a few graphic novels.
She looked around the room. It was blood red and too dark for her tastes. The men who had lived in the house before had strange tastes; apart from the kitchen nearly every other room was either a period piece or curiously blank. Though one of them had gone completely insane and killed the other, so it perhaps wasn't so bizarre that the house reflected a certain amount of disharmony.
Juxtaposed to the warm colour, the room was very cold. She pulled back the curtains to see if the window had been left open but it was shut tight. She checked the radiator but it was on. It was as if all the warmth was being sucked out of it and replaced with cold.
Vanozza shivered and left the bedroom. Juan, of course, was not in the bedroom. She wandered downstairs, feeling strangely disconnected, and saw that the kitchen light was on.
Juan was sitting at the table. Heavy rings were under his eyes and his usually handsome, tanned face now looked pale and drawn.
"My poor baby," she whispered, before gathering him up into a hug. He reciprocated half-heartedly. Vanozza didn't mind, she accepted what affection she could from her sons. She nuzzled his hair with her nose, smelling him and taking him in. Her boy, injured but alive. He was her baby boy now.
The thought stung her and she held him more closely. He was so much more vulnerable than Cesare, perhaps even more than Lucrezia. Eventually he began to wriggle about.
"Mom, get off now."
She released him. "You should be sleeping Juan."
"I couldn't," he shrugged.
"You can sleep in my bed."
Juan frowned and sneered, "I'm not a baby mom."
"For my sake."
"Did you ask Cesare?" He suddenly sounded angry, "No I didn't think so. Everyone thinks I'm a big baby and he's so brave."
"That isn't it," Vanozza reached out and took his hands into her own. He pulled away, scowling. His jealousy of his brother was strong enough for him to rebuff her in her time of need, "I never asked Cesare because I knew he wouldn't. Besides, he is sleeping with Lucrezia tonight. See, no one is alone Come stay with me."
"Of course he's with Lucrezia," Juan sneered and sipped a cold glass of water he'd poured himself earlier. "Those two are weird for each other mom."
"You do not have to stay in the same bed as me," she continued, "you can sleep on the floor. We'll set it up."
"This isn't a sleep over. I'm fine down here mom. I prefer the kitchen. Feels safe here."
"Fine," she threw up her hands tiredly, "I don't want to argue. I just…I love you Juan, so much. Staying in the kitchen is crazy to me, but if you really want to."
Juan rolled his eyes and stood up, "come on mom, I'll come to stay with you."
"Are you sure?"
A small, genuine smile graced his lips; the truth was he hadn't wanted to stay alone for the night and so despite his surliness he was actually pleased that Vanozza had pushed for him to stay the night in her room. "I'm sure mom."
xxXXxx
'Jeniferever' played quietly in the background as Lucrezia lay on Cesare's bed crying softly. Her body shook every now and then but mostly she was silent, her tears running down her pale, damp cheeks. She hadn't spoken for many hours. Events had been too horrific and it was as if the pressure of the day had completely over-taken her. Secretly strong, even Lucrezia couldn't deal with terror, nightmares and a death of a sibling in less than twenty-four hours.
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Her eyelids stung and, in the presence of the one she loved the most she finally spoke.
"I feel as if tomorrow will never come. Like this terrible night will go on forever."
Cesare, who had been sitting on his bed headrest starring out the window, said nothing but looked at her with desperation in his eyes. He hated seeing her suffer, but this was a situation he couldn't save her from; he couldn't bring back Joffre.
Tearful blue eyes met dark brown ones, "Do you think maybe we are all dead and we are now in hell for our sins? Or maybe... maybe it is all just one nightmare? I wish I could wake up Cesare."
He lowered himself on to the bed and hugged her tightly, breathing her in and holding her tightly, "I know, I don't like it either. I will talk to father tomorrow, see if I can get him to take us away from here."
She hugged him back tightly taking comfort in his scent, the feel of his black curls against her nose and she nuzzled into his neck. 'Father will not take us away from here,' her mind warned her, but she pushed the negative thought away. She knew their father loved them more than anything and now the house had proven to be a bad omen for them, that he would have them moved out in no time. Even if they had to spend time in a motel or a trailer, she didn't care. She just wanted to be free of this house; just her and her parents and her three darling brothers.
Her mind suddenly conjured up an image of little Joffre sitting at the table playing with his toy bird and she realised her mental error. There wasn't three darling brothers, but now only two.
A low whine came out of her mouth before she had time to censor it and again she wept, this time her tears seeping into Cesare's shoulder.
She felt him kiss her head, shuffling so that he was sitting on the bed and she was in his lap. They stayed like that, him kissing her and she crying as 'Jeniferever' played until, eventually, she began to sleep.
This time there were no nightmares, but she did see Joffre. He was happy, because now he had a pair of wings of his own. He was holding hands with a young woman; one with long dark curls and beautiful tan skin. The girl was beaming down at Joffre and Lucrezia felt a little peace knowing that this woman was eternally Joffre's guardian.
