What have I done?
I sit, very quietly, on the bed in my attic bedroom, staring out the window and not seeing anything.
Rather, I'm not seeing anything outside the window. Instead, my mind keeps replaying the same scene, over and over again. A car, hurtling through the air, a darkly dressed figure trying to protect themselves, a sickening sound as the car crashes – and silence.
Car, figure, crash, silence.
Car, figure, crash, silence.
Car, figure, crash, silence.
Occasionally, the scene continues past the silence, incorporating the moment of utter shock afterwards, a moment when no-one moved before, very suddenly, everyone was moving all at once. The other four ran towards the crashed car, being drawn towards it like magnets, automatically and without thinking.
As for me, my instinct kicked in at nearly the same moment, but instead of running towards the car, I turned into another direction and –
Beep, beep.
Startled, I sit up, looking around for my phone.
Beep, beep.
I finally locate the phone in the pocket of the jeans I discarded on the floor last night. Getting up with effort, I drag myself towards it. Before I can reach it though, the phone slips from the pocket, rising into the air and floating towards me.
"No!" I snarl. "Stop!"
The phone pauses, hanging in the air, seemingly undecided.
"Stop!" I snap again. "Haven't you done enough? Haven't you… you… I…" My voice breaks and my legs crumble.
I drop to the floor just as my phone does, my treacherous magic obviously doing what I want for once.
Except… except…
Forcing the memory aside, I instead reach for the phone, blindly unlocking it and waiting impatiently as the screen springs to life. Anything to distract me from the images in my mind and the awful realisation threatening to take over.
It's a message from Carl, containing a website link and the words 'A job well done!'
A job… well done?
If only he knew! If only he –
Shaking my head free of the thought, I quickly click on the link.
Up here in the middle of nowhere, data connection is slow, but when the website loads, it shows itself to be the online version of a well-known Edinburgh newspaper. Even on the small phone screen, the headline is impossible to miss.
Police Finds a Dozen Missing People Alive – Search for Kidnapper Continues
They won't have much success with that search, no matter where they look.
So much for a job well done…
Not having the strength to read the entire article, I drop the phone, before letting myself sink backwards. Lying on the floor, I stare up at the ceiling and wonder, again, where it all went wrong.
I haven't come to a conclusion – of course I haven't! – when my phone suddenly starts buzzing, shortly followed by a melodic tune, indicating an incoming call. Turning my head to the side, I peer at the phone screen.
Carl.
I press the button to accept his call and immediately, his cheerful face appears on the screen. "Hello!"
"Hi." I try to muster a smile.
It's probably the distance and the fuzzy connection that are to blame for him not immediately recognising my subdued state. Instead, his smile grows wider until he is beaming at me. "You did it!"
Did we?
"You found them," Carl elaborates excitedly. "They're alive!"
Yes. Yes, I suppose we did, and I suppose they are.
Not wanting to rouse any suspicions or draw undue attention to ourselves, we left the people inside the building for the police to find. After the initial shock, Joy quickly went inside to check whether everyone was alright, finding a lot of very confused beings just roused from a deep sleep. An anonymous call to the police took care of that and we left before they arrived, taking car and figure with us. Ever since, I've been up here in this room, grappling with what happened and – and, yes, hiding.
"They're alive," I confirm weakly and attempt another smile for Carl's benefit.
Obviously, my lack of excitement is now obvious enough, for I can see Carl's happy face turn into a frowning one.
"You're awfully quiet," he points out and I can see him look closer at his screen, clearly trying to study me as best as he can, given that we're an ocean apart.
"It's been… It didn't go quite as expected," I admit hesitatingly, not sure how to find the words.
"How so?" asks Carl, now frowning deeply. "Did the kidnapper escape? Don't worry if they did. The main thing is that you freed all these people and I'm sure you'll find whoever is responsible for this soon enough."
"A witch," I remark absent-mindedly as I turn on my back again and stare at a small crack in the ceiling. "A witch did this."
And it wasn't Ermintrude.
Perhaps I should have known it wouldn't be Ermintrude. She was too obviously a villain, too easy a solution. I should have known to go with the less apparent choice. I should have –
"And the witch escaped?" Carl wants to know, now clearly puzzled.
I shake my head slowly. "Not as such."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" There's a tinge of impatience now lacing Carl's words, though mostly, he's clearly still confused. Not, of course, that I can blame him. My behaviour must appear supremely weird to him.
"He didn't escape," I clarify, having to force the words through my lips. It's as if my entire body resists having to speak them aloud. "He…"
"He?" prompts Carl gently when I trail off.
I swallow heavily. "He's gone."
For a moment, deafening silence fills the room.
"Gone as in…" Carl hesitates, "gone?"
"Uh-huh." I nod, releasing a shuddering breath. "Gone."
Carl whistles softly.
"Did he… you know… did he end it?" he asks after a moment. "Didn't want to be caught red-handed and…?" Now it's him not finishing his questions, but the intent is clear anyway.
Very slowly, I shake my head. "No. It wasn't intentional. It was… I suppose you could call it an accident?"
At least that's what I keep telling myself. That it was an accident. That no-one wanted this. That no-one could have prevented it.
Perhaps, if only I repeat it often enough, I will one day believe my own lie.
"What happened?" asks Carl, maybe sensing the uncertainty I'm feeling.
I sigh, looking away from the screen for a moment. "We were… well, not really 'fighting' him, I guess, but he was throwing objects around to block us and we were moving them out of them way and then… I told my magic to block his and –"
"Whoa!" Carl interrupts me. "Wait. You blocked his magic?"
I nod mutely.
"How does that work?" he wants to know.
The question stumps me for a moment. "I… don't know? I just wish for someone to have no more powers for a bit and my magic does its thing. I kind of gave up on trying to understand how it does what it does."
"So, if you want for me to stop turning into a rat, then…?" He lets the question hang.
"Yes, pretty much," I confirm.
"Is it permanent?" Carl wonders.
This time, I can only shrug. "I don't know. I've only done it twice so far. Once, I lifted the blockage a while later and the second time… well, the second time, I got no chance either way."
"Because he's dead," Carl finished for me, thus speaking the words I'm unable to.
"He is." I force the words around the lump in my throat.
"How did he die?" he asks, keeping his voice gentle but clearly trying to get the full picture.
Once again, I shrug, but mostly to buy time. "I blocked his magic when he was moving a car through the air. He lost control of the car, it crashed on top of him and –" My voice breaks at the memory.
I realised who he was, right when the car came crashing down. After the first moment of shock, everyone started to move towards him. Reacting instinctively, I turned not towards the destroyed car but to Leslie, right by my side. Holding out both arms, I blocked her, held her back, stopped her from seeing what I knew she'd be seeing if she moved forward.
I held back Leslie, but my arms didn't reach far enough to hold back Ken and for once, my magic didn't either. I could only watch in silent horror as he was the first to run to the car, turning it over with a spell to reveal none but his father.
My shouted warning came just a fraction too late.
"If I hadn't blocked his magic when I did…" I murmur, more to myself than to Carl. "If I hadn't been there at all…"
If only.
If only, if only, if only.
If only – and he might still be alive.
"But it wasn't your fault!" protests Carl immediately. "You didn't mean for this to happen. No matter what he did before, I know you never wanted his death."
I didn't. Of course I didn't.
And yet, here we are.
"Mum and Joy didn't want me to come at first," I tell him tonelessly. "They were afraid I'd lose control of my magic." A mirthless laugh escapes me. "I guess that just goes to show they were right."
"Nonsense!" disagrees Carl forcefully. "As you said, it was an accident. Things just happened in exactly the wrong second. That doesn't make this your fault!"
Leslie and Ken might think differently. Persis, too.
Oh God, Persis! She's so young and she wasn't even there and –
"Rilla," Carl calls out quietly. "Look at me."
Reluctantly, I do.
"Do you trust me?" he asks plainly.
I nod, without any reluctance.
"Do you trust me to know you as best as another person possibly can?" he continues.
Again, I nod. "No-one knows me the way you do."
"Yes, that's my thinking," agrees Carl. "And as the person who knows you best, will you believe what I tell you?"
I wait a second, before finally, slowly, nodding a third time.
"Then believe when I tell you that you are a good person," Carl assures me, his expression calm and sincere. "I know you never meant any harm to come to this guy and I know you would have stopped it if you'd been able to. You didn't want this and it isn't your fault."
I can't deny that I lap up his words. Ever since I saw the car crash down, I've been trying to undo it, trying to will myself back into the past and find a way to make it become undone. My body moved forward, but my mind remained stuck in that very second, furiously trying to think its way out of it, yet never finding a solution.
"It's not your fault," Carl reiterates, "and I forbid you to feel guilty about it."
He's trying to be very firm and strict, which is enough to raise a weak smile from me. It's sweet, him trying to reassure me, and I believe that he's sincere in what he's saying, but he's normally such a happy, carefree person that the strict act is an unusual sight.
"You forbid me, huh?" I ask, permitting myself the to be the very slightest bit amused. Apart from utter horror, it's the first emotion I've felt since yesterday.
"I forbid you!" emphasises Carl, nodding quickly.
He can't forbid me to do something, of course, much as he can't forbid me to feel something either, but the sincerity of his belief in me is… calming. He wasn't there and he can't judge what happened, but he's a good judge of me and if he says I'm not to blame…
"I do love you, you know that?" I tell him impulsively, using 'love' in a strictly platonic but nevertheless deeply heartfelt sense.
"Sure, I know," replies Carl with an air of complete confidence to him. "You've grown on me, too."
He's teasing me, of course, and I know he's doing so to cheer me up. It even works a little, raising a flickering smile from me. Nothing he says could possibly change anything about what happened, but at least now I can be sure that there's someone on this earth who doesn't think I'm despicable and dangerous and altogether repulsive. Until ten minutes ago, I wasn't sure whether there was even one person who didn't think so, myself included. To have Carl on my side feels… I don't have words for what it feels like, but it's a flicker of light on this darkest of days.
"It's not your fault. Can you remember that for me?" asks Carl, now no longer strict but speaking in a voice that is both gentle and caring.
"I'll do my best," I promise, and I do really mean it. It's a tall order, the thing he's asking for, but I will do my best to remember what he told me. I can't promise to believe it, but I can promise to remember it, at the very least.
"Do, please," Carl stresses. "Remember it's not your fault, remember you're a good person and remember that I love you, too. I know all of that to be true."
"And I know I'm lucky to have you as my best friend," I reply, quietly but sincerely, and give him a small smile. It's less than he deserves, but all than I can muster.
"Seconded," he agrees. "I'd give you a hug right now, but unless you want to beam me to Scotland, it has to remain a virtual one."
No way I'm risking anyone's wellbeing by subjecting them to my magic!
"Virtual hug it is," I decide immediately.
"Thought so," agrees Carl, his smile understanding.
Oddly, I can very nearly feel him give me one of his hugs. He's the best of huggers, Carl is, and in the past years, his hugs have often brought me comfort. This time, the despair is deeper than ever and it's nothing a simple hug, real or virtual, can lift, but it does give me strength, as do his understanding and his unwavering belief in me.
It gives me enough strength, anyway, to hesitatingly venture out of the attic bedroom an hour later, long after the call ended.
Downstairs, I find Mum and Joy having tea in the living room, with Agnes asleep on her favourite windowsill.
Mum rises to her feet the moment she sees me. "Rilla, darling. How are you?"
"So-so," I mumble, not wanting to open that particular can of worms. Before they can ask anyone else, I quickly pose a question of my own, "Where are Leslie and Ken?" I don't quite know myself whether I'm asking to find or to avoid them.
"Leslie went to get her daughter from school," answers Joy as Mum slowly sits back down. "Ken is outside somewhere."
"He's not doing too well," Mum tells me. "Maybe you want to go check on him?"
A mirthless laugh escapes me. "I hardly think he wants to see me!"
"He might. Loath as I do to admit it, I feel for him. He could need a friend right about now, I think," reasons Joy.
Do I qualify as a friend? I used to, I believe, but whether he still sees me as such now… to be honest, I have no idea.
"I don't know if I'm the person he wants to see though," I reply, repeating my earlier point. I don't feel strong enough to go into the why of it all, but surely, they must see it themselves?
"He certainly doesn't want to see Joy or me," Mum points out. "Don't you want to at least try to talk to him?"
It's a mean question, because it leaves me with no way out. I don't know whether Mum intentionally worded it this way – I hope she didn't –, but I can hardly refuse it. If it's my fault he's feeling unwell, I can't not check on him, can I? At the very least, I owe it to him to let him shout at me, or whatever else might make the pain a little better.
Reaching out to stroke Agnes's silky fur, I look out of the window behind her. "He's out in the garden, you say?"
"Or in the woods beyond," answers Joy. "He left very early, just after Leslie went to get her daughter. We haven't seen him since."
Right.
"So… I suppose I should probably go and find him." I look back at Mum and Joy. "Right?"
"I think you should," Mum encourages and smiles at me. Joy nods her assent and really what other choice do I have but to comply?
And thus, I find myself stomping through Leslie's garden mere minutes later, not sure whether I hope to find Ken or rather, hope not to encounter him at all. Since I have no idea how he'll react and since I'm far from sure of my own feelings… I suppose that selfishly, I'd prefer for my search to be in vain.
There's a little wind and a flutter of leaves that, after a moment, I recognise as my magic offering its assistance.
"No," I hiss at it. "Don't you dare! I won't let you hurt anyone else!"
A second passes, before the leaves rustle a final time, as if in a quiet goodbye. I refuse to be swayed though, I simply refuse! It might pretend to be all innocent, but if I was ever in doubt, I know now that my magic is dangerous and can never be used again.
Therefore, I stumble forward with neither magic nor any sense of direction to guide my way. As I cross the border between garden and forest, I hesitate for the briefest of moments, before reminding myself that I have nothing to fear anymore, that the one who once attacked me here will never do so again.
Armed with that knowledge, I venture onwards, deeper into the forest. It's too large for me to reasonably expect to find Ken and for at least half an hour, there's no sign of him either. I've honestly mostly given up on finding him and only carry on looking because it feels wrong not to, when suddenly, I walk around a particularly large tree – and there he is.
He's sitting on a tree stump, staring blankly ahead, and I don't think he already noticed I'm here.
It gives me a final chance to withdraw, to silently walk backwards until the forest engulfs me again and to then return to the castle and claim I didn't find him. It'd be the easiest way to handle it for sure, but – it would also be the cowardly way. I'm a bad enough person already and I don't want to add cowardly to the list of all the awful things I am.
Thus, I take another few steps forward and clear my throat. Immediately, Ken raises his head and look at me, his expression unreadable.
I draw up my shoulders lightly, bracing myself for his reaction. Surely, despite what Mum and Joy said, he can't be wanting to see me, can't be wanting to talk to me…
"Rilla." His voice is weary.
"Hey." I wave awkwardly, but he doesn't see it, having already turned back to stare at the trees in front of him.
He doesn't volunteer any words besides my name either, leaving the silence to stretch between us. It's almost impossible to bear and I shift nervously from feet to feet as I wait for him to say something – anything, really.
"Look, I know you don't want to see me," I blurt out when I can no longer hold it in. "I'm sorry. I realise that doesn't make it better at all, but I really, truly am sorry. I didn't want it to happen. That doesn't change anything and I know it, but I really didn't mean for things to turn out the way they did. I'm really, truly, honestly sorry and if there's anything I can do, just –"
I break off when I notice Ken staring at me, aghast. "Whatever are you talking about?" he asks into the silence.
"I… I'm sorry?" In my uncertainty, it comes out as more of a question. "If I hadn't blocked his magic when I did… if I hadn't come along at all… it's my fault and I'm sorry."
Once more, the space between us is filled by silence, extending and wrapping around me. I wring my hands nervously, while Ken rubs his face, looking impossibly tired.
"It's not your fault," he finally tells me. "If anything, it's mine."
Huh? How does he work that one out?
"You were meant to block his magic," he continues, not looking at me. "You only did what you were supposed to do. It was me manoeuvring that car. I was the one who should have stopped or diverted it in time."
His voice is quite reasonable as he speaks, very matter-of-fact in a chilling way that makes a shiver run down my spine.
"You didn't have time," I assure him quietly, taking a step closer. "It all happened so fast. There was nothing you could have done."
"The same then, goes for you," he points out drily. "If I couldn't have done anything, how could you have?"
I could disagree with his words, I suppose, and point out all the things I could have done, mainly to better control and better time my magic, but it feels utterly wrong to be arguing about who is responsible for the death of his father, just as it feels wrong to have Ken reassuring me when it is his father who is dead. He shouldn't have to worry about anyone's feelings but his own!
"Do you want to sit?" Ken invites and nods at a felled tree trunk lying horizontally opposite his three stump.
It takes a moment for me to process his words, but when I do, I gingerly cross over to the tree trunk and sit down, feeling supremely awkward. Tentatively, I look at him, but his gaze is averted and he appears to be deep in thought.
"I don't know whether to be sad or angry," he murmurs, more to himself than to me. "I'm sad for the father I lost, so desperately sad I hardly have words to describe it. At the same time though, I'm so bloody angry at him. I'm angry about everything he did to all these innocent people, beginning with you and ending with everyone we found inside this building. I'm angry that he tainted all my memories of him and makes me question whether I ever really knew him. But most of all –" He breaks off briefly and laughs a laugh that makes me shiver, "Most of all, I'm so incredibly angry with him for dying."
I sit very quietly, hardly daring to breath lest I interrupt him.
"After everything he did, the least he owes us are answers, doesn't he?" Ken asks, but it's clear he wants no answer to that question. "If nothing else, we deserve to know why he did what he did so we can at least try and understand, but he took that from us just as he took away all the happy memories we made as a family. I don't know if anything he could have said would have made me forgive him, but at least he should have had the graciousness to give me the choice. But no, instead, he took the cowardly way out and just died on us. I mean, how is that fair?"
This time, he does look at me, his expression full of anguish and yet also imploring me to… to do what? To agree with him? To make it right again?
But how?
"I want to mourn him, but I can't," he continues quietly when I don't say anything. "Maybe grieving would make it easier, but who am I even meant to grieve? The man I thought I knew as my father? The monster who tormented all these innocents? I don't know who he even was anymore and how am I meant to mourn a stranger? Hell, I don't even know whether I want to grieve for him! Grief is for those we love and right now…" He trails off and takes a shuddering breath. "Right now, I don't know whether I even love him anymore. Part of me does and yet, another part of me… Is this what hate feels like, I wonder?"
"I don't know," I reply softly. "I've never hated anyone."
"Not even him?" Ken wonders, surprised. "Not even him after everything he did to you?"
I shrug, helpless. "I was angry and I… I guess I detested him, but hate… it's a strong feeling. I didn't know him well enough to hate him. He couldn't… he couldn't cut me deeply enough."
"I wish I could say the same," Ken mutters in reply. "I wish I… I just want one more moment with him, you know? I just want to look at him one last time so I can… I don't know, is it 'closure' they call it?"
"I believe so," I confirm, my voice quiet.
Ken nods slowly. "Closure. And yet, he robbed me even of that."
There's a bitterness to his voice that hardly masks the pain and confusion beneath. His face, too, is filled with hurt and anguish too deep for me to fathom. And thus, because I have no words of comfort to offer to him, I get up and cautiously walk over to him. Once there, under his watchful gaze, I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, offering what little comfort I can with a hug.
For a brief second, Ken freezes under my touch, but then, gradually, he relaxes slightly. He raises his arms to return the hug, gripping my waist fiercely and pressing his face against my shoulder. He remains perfectly still at first, but then, after a long moment, I feel his body start to move in my arms as it is racked by quiet sobs.
Unsure what else to do, I just hold him tighter, wishing that there was anything else I could do for him. I wish I could give him the answers, the truth, the closure he so desperately needs, but it's nothing I can offer. If I could, I would, of course, in a heartbeat. If I could, I'd bring his father back so he could talk to him one final time and find some semblance of peace. If could, I would –
If could, I would –
If could, I would –
If could, I would –
Turn back time.
The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'Everytime' (written by Annette Stamatelatos and Britney Spears, released by Britney Spears in 2004).
To Guest:
As you can see, it was not Ermintrude but Owen Ford - again! I must admit that I had a lot of the plot for this story already pulled together before settling on the final villain. Once I did, the end of the story came together so neatly that I knew he was the right choice. There'll be more about his motives revealed soon, so we're definitely not at the end of this character's arc, but yes, he's very much the villain of the piece - if perhaps, not wholly intentionally.
To DogMonday:
I'm very glad to hear you're doing well! I was a little concerned that something happened in your life, so while I absolutely understand life being stressful and intervening with reading, it's nice to hear that you're broadly alright =). I hope things become less stressful for you and settled down soon!
We definitely haven't seen the last of Miranda, I promise! She's got an important role to play yet and, only makes her last appearance in the very last chapter. Her ability to speak to ghosts definitely came in handy already and she has more to contribute, too.
Rilla calling together fairies and witches to work together is quite unusual, you're right. Normally, they would have stayed separate and tried to work it out within their own group, but Rilla, having lived unmagical for so long, is a bit less traditional in that respect. She's making them play nice and despite Joy being reluctant, overall, I say it could have been worse.
As you can see, one of your guesses proved to be correct. It was indeed Owen's doing all along! I'm very much looking forward to hearing what you think about this development, whenever your time allows it =).