December 27, 1998
From a young age, I knew that my calling in life was to study every aspect of the insect world; their beautiful, graceful forms, their mass population, and their instinct to survive are aspects that humans attempt to replicate but manage to degrade miserably.
I was approximately three or four years old when I expressed to Father that my dream was to become a world-renowned entomologist; yet, he seemed less interested in my aspirations and ever more adamant that I continue studying genetics, chemistry, and virology. His blatant disregard for my ambitions impeded my personal goals, causing me to succumb to his ideologies until his dreams became my dreams. Although I never completely ignored my insect research, I placed it on the back-burner to accommodate his wishes. Only many years later did I realize that all of these subjects could be intertwined to form an altogether more powerful discipline, and thus the T- Veronica virus was born.
Nevertheless, the secrets of the T-Veronica virus will never be revealed to ill-bred mortals, as none of them could comprehend the complexity of it. William Birkin was unsuccessful, much as Albert Wesker will soon be. The information will be locked into my mind (as I will soon destroy any remaining research in paper form), and once the virus is spread throughout the world, no one will question its origin or characteristics. Every pathetic human will accept that it is there, and that they are better for it.
-Alexia Ashford
________________________
September 30, 1974
This is the first time that I have had the chance to write in the journal that Father presented me for my birthday. He said that all geniuses should take accurate notes of their research so that successes and errors can be documented for further use. I think that it is a little silly, so I decided to make it a personal diary. I'll never tell him, though, or he might become angry and take it away.
Since my birthday in May, there have been a lot of bizarre things going on. A month or so ago, I overheard Father talking with Harman about Alfred and me. Father was explaining that he believed I needed a female role model in my life. (I think that seeing my mother in her gravestone had something to do with that decision.) Harman seemed to agree, nodding so fervently that I thought his head might fall off and roll down the dining room table. He quickly stated that a nanny might be helpful when Father was busy with his paperwork. Father approved, commenting that some man (I can't seem to remember his name) was coming to visit, and that a nanny might help keep us in line.
I didn't really think that much would come of the discussion that I eavesdropped on, but within a week, Matilda arrived. Father called Alfred and me to the main hall to greet her, and from the moment I saw her waltz in, I knew that I would not like her. She just looked mean, although Father seemed to adore her. He complimented her on her hairstyle (a braid that didn't appear too fancy in my opinion) and invited her to get acquainted with us while he went to fetch Harman. She smiled to him sweetly and called him "my Lord" more times than I could count. When the door slammed behind Father, she turned to us and her loving expression disappeared. She whispered to us that she was going to "teach our snobby asses a lesson".
From that day on, she has tormented Alfred and me on any occasion that she can get. She makes us wake up at five o'clock in the morning every day, get us dressed, and prepares breakfast. As soon as we are done, she shuts us in our rooms with our lessons until lunch is ready. Instead of letting us go to the dining table to eat, she brings the food on trays to my room and yells at Alfred to come in and eat. After we eat what she deems to be enough, she orders Alfred to go back to his room and study until she calls for dinner. For the first time of the day, we get to visit with Father over the dinner table, and he always inquires about whether we like Matilda. Although I'd like to tell him the truth, that stupid woman warned us that if we told Father that we didn't like her, she would burn our favorite toys. So instead, Alfred and I just keep quiet about it.
I really don't like her at all. I think I could possibly hate her! I know that hating someone is a sin, but I think that God would understand if he had to put up with a mean woman like Matilda.
Recently, I have been studying insects in my lessons. All of them intrigue me, and I think that I have decided to build an ant farm! Father said that he would order one for me tomorrow, so I can't wait for it to arrive. I also decided that I want to decorate my room in dragonflies, but Father was angry when I told him that. He said that dragonflies were not pretty, and that I should have beautiful things in my room. I disagreed with him, assuring him that they are very elegant and graceful creatures, but he frowned and told me that he would not allow me to have anything with dragonflies on it in my room. I pouted, of course, until he called me a spoiled brat and marched off. I'm still not sure what got him so upset.
In any case, I need to go to sleep before Matilda sees that I am still awake.
-Alexia Ashford
________________________
Alexia tucked the pen inside the ivory pages and silently closed the diary, careful not to make much of a rustle. Placing her bare feet on the cool hardwood floor, she tiptoed to her dresser and eased open the top drawer, covering the leather binding with pairs of socks and underwear. After five minutes of meticulous arranging, she felt satisfied with the inconspicuous hiding place and made her way back to the comfort of her frilly canopy bed.
Climbing beneath the soft pink bedcovers, she puffed out the white pillar candle and watched the shadows disappear in the total darkness. She waved her petite hand in front of her face, suddenly wishing that the purging light of the candle was still burning. It was too dark and much too quiet. Not even the monotonous clanging of machinery in the factory was heard tonight, and she found herself missing the soothing metallic drones that had eased her into sleep night after night. Despite the fact that Alfred was across the hall and Matilda was down two rooms, she had the disturbing feeling of being utterly alone.
The Antarctic mansion had that affect on her, more so in the past few weeks - no visitors, no neighbors, no one. She'd never ventured beyond this place that she endearingly called home; her father had sternly commanded them never to go further than the carousel that decorated the outer courts, insisting that the factory area was very dangerous and not for children. From her bedroom window, she had seen some of the workers hauling large barrels into the facility, and they all had looked dirty and scary. Alfred was more curious about who or what lay beyond the iron doors, and more times than once, he had tried to urge Alexia to sneak in when no one was looking, but the girl had decided that it couldn't be anything of much importance. It was a factory; there wasn't anything fascinating about that. Alfred had managed a high-pitched giggled and called her a coward, insisting that she wouldn't get into trouble. She remembered his exact words clearly:
"You have always been Father's favorite. He'd probably punish me instead."
Then he'd sneered at her, her brother's features contorted vehemently in a way that she had never witnessed before. The outward display of emotion had both amused and frightened her, although she had been careful to cast off the last emotion with a forced coolness. Alexia had turned to look at him, mock merriment and a flicker of disdain dancing in her eyes, and he had blushed furiously before turning on his heels towards the exit. Although his envy had upset her, Alexia did her best to brush off her brother's odd behavior; being the secondary child, the one less doted on, surely had caused the surge of jealousy that Alfred had felt. She knew that her brother loved her dearly, and the words coming from his mouth had been aimed at their father, not her. The next day, Alfred had been contrite, asking her if she wanted his dessert. Alexia had smiled at him, silently assuring him that all was forgiven. He had returned the smile, the squabble forgotten.
Alexia rolled over in her bed, the springs squeaking slightly as she shifted and rearranged her pillows. Closing her eyes to the darkness, her mind raced through the events that had transpired since Matilda had arrived. The God-awful woman had been a pain in the twins' sides for weeks now, and Alexia felt that she was at her wits end. Her father was of no help; he seemed utterly oblivious to Matilda's dual-sided behavior and complimented her many times a day. The woman drank it up as if his flattery was an oasis in a desert, and then she would roll her tongue over her teeth and give the children a smug, pointed look that made Alexia's blood boil.
Even now, Alexia could feel the anger flooding her body like a poison, making her stomach churn and her eyes burn with frustrated unshed tears. Was her father absolutely blind? How could he not see that the woman was just waiting for an opportune time? Clenching her fists, she looked over at the clock. 2:49 AM. That woman would be in her room in a matter of hours, ripping Alexia from her covers and nagging about how lazy the child was. God, she hated Matilda.
'You could kill her.'
The voice caused Alexia to sit up straight in her bed, one of her plush pillows falling to the carpeted floor with an indiscernible thunk. Alexia's head swiveled from side to side, her blonde locks flying about her face and her wide eyes searching the darkness for the speaker.
"Who's there? Mother?" Alexia inquired, her voice quivering. With shaking hands, she fumbled about her nightstand, searching for the small book of matches that she kept near her candle. Locating them, she tore one from the book and struck it, the small flame doing little to light the large bedroom. Dark smoke rose to the ceiling as the thin slice of wood burned quickly, eating its way down the dry stick until the heat singed her delicate fingers. Groaning, she shook the match until it was extinguished, then struck another to light the pillar candle atop her nightstand. The room brightened twofold, but the light could not help her locate the origin of the voice that she had heard. Her back arrow straight and her heart hammering in her chest, she pulled the covers around her quaking body and called out again. "Come out. I know that someone is there..."
No response.
Alexia refused to blink, the bright blue orbs combing over every crevice and corner of the half-lit room. Someone had spoken to her, a voice that had been clear, cool, and genderless. And the words...the cruel, heartless sentence had been delivered without a shred of hesitation or remorse: 'You could kill her.'
Alexia shivered involuntarily, afraid of the voice speaking again. It was not her mother's voice this time. Although she had not spoken to her mother since the incident in the cemetery, Alexia knew that the voice belonged to someone else. Her mother had always been so kind; she had never said frightening things like that. This voice was different and much angrier.
Sleep. She needed to sleep and remove this bizarre situation from her mind. That was the best course of action now, she assured herself. She could think over the voice tomorrow, when her mind was less cloudy and full of fear. Hesitantly, she leaned down to retrieve her fallen pillow, her fingers barely grazing the soft pink exterior. Grumbling to herself, she strained her arm towards the feather-filled bag, reaching and stretching her fingertips, inwardly refusing to leave the safety of her bed. 'Monsters always get people when they put their feet on the floor,' her mind warned. With a final stretch that cramped her arm, she managing a firm grip on the pillowcase and drew it towards her, but the sound of footsteps making their way hurriedly down the hall caused her to freeze.
Alexia hardly had a moment to be afraid; Matilda burst through the bedroom door with a rush, the flickering candlelight playing over her livid features and tingeing her face a crimson color. The devil incarnate.
"You spoiled brat." Matilda marched purposefully to Alexia's bed, the large white nightgown blowing about her as if possessed. "You should have been asleep hours ago," she commanded, her voice high-pitched with anger.
"I...had a nightmare," Alexia lied. "I was frightened."
Matilda picked up the pillow and threw it onto the bed forcefully, barely missing the child's head. "I don't believe a word of it. You made enough noise to wake me from my sleep."
"I'm sorry," Alexia spoke, but something had snaked its way into her voice. Hateful amusement. Although Alexia tried to repress it, that 'something' seemed to take control of her body.
'You hate her, don't you?' whispered the voice.
"I doubt that one bit," Matilda nagged, kneeling to extinguish the candle with a haughty breath. The room was once again plunged into total blackness. The nanny's body disappeared along with the accompanying shadows, but her voice continued. "It's such a shame, too. I was having such a wonderful dream about your father. I'd convinced him to ship the two of you to military school, and he and I married." Her voice held sadistic glee as the sound of footsteps retreated towards the door. Alexia could almost imagine the nanny's tongue rolling over her teeth as she grinned in amusement.
'You are more powerful than she is. She is nothing.'
The voice only echoed in the child's ears, somehow lost in the whirlwind of emotions that were flooding Alexia's body. Yet it was there, pointed and matter-of-fact, speaking in many tones and sentences. Alexia felt an overwhelming sense of hatred for the red-headed woman spread throughout her, and her body felt as if set on fire. Words blasted into her skull, enticing her to speak them, promising that all would be well if she gave in. Becoming subjugated to the suggestions, she responded, her tone full of bitterness and anger. "Enjoy your dreams. You don't dream when you're dead."
"What was that?!" Matilda squealed unbelievably, and Alexia felt the nanny's presence near her bed again. The child could almost envision Matilda's animated motions and enraged green eyes. "You say that again, you little bitch!"
'She is laughable.'
As if mocking the woman, Alexia found herself giggling uncontrollably, unable to stop. It was almost as if someone was tickling her ribs, and although she knew that her retort had been disrespectful and wrong, that 'something' in her head told her that it was right. The woman had deserved every word, it cooed. She laughed harder, the guttural sound echoing from the walls and meeting her surprised ears. Tears began to stream freely down her face as the laughter continued, making her sides hurt.
Matilda felt a cold chill travel down her spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end; something wasn't right. Although she wanted nothing more than to strike the child into silence, the creepy laughter shook her to the bone. "Shut up!" Matilda whispered harshly. "I said shut up!" Alexia didn't stop; if nothing else, her incessant laughter grew louder. Matilda covered her ears with the palms of her hands, warning the child that her father would be called if she didn't cease. The nanny could barely hear her words over Alexia's amused giggle.
'That is enough. Stop.'
As suddenly as she had started, Alexia laughter halted. Only the sound of shallow breathing resonated from the little girl, and the pitch- black room seemed eerily quiet, almost evil. Matilda, jarred, spoke loudly, forcing her voice to carry security that she did not feel. "You will pay for this tomorrow, I assure you."
Not a sound in response. Matilda quaked, despite her best efforts at controlling the fear that rolled from her body in waves. Reaching into the pockets of her nightgown, she withdrew a book of matches and lit one with trembling hands. The light sparked and melded with the match, creating a small flame that didn't quell the unnatural feeling that hung heavily in the room.
The light reflected in Alexia's eyes as she stared at the nanny, her features twisted in a bizarre grin. She looked older than her years, the youthful, cherub-like face lost in the dancing flame of the match. "I suggest you leave my room before I lose my patience."
Before Matilda could reply, the match burned out, and the nanny cursed loudly at the burning sensation around her thumb and forefinger. As she moved to light another, the young girl's voice spoke up, loud and chilling.
"Go back to your dreams. Enjoy them while you have the opportunity."
Matilda shivered and felt a new wave of fear push through her body. Impulsively, she turned, her bare feet making loud patters across the hardwood floor as she fled the child's bedroom.
'It feels good to know that she fears you, doesn't it?'
Alexia's face was locked in a cruel smile. Her body felt so drained, but her mind rushed with a sort of power that she had never felt before. The nanny had FEARED her; she was able to almost taste the emotion radiating from Matilda. The feeling made her giddy, and when she heard Matilda's door slam shut and lock, she couldn't help but grin wider.
________________________
"You actually said that to her? What's possessed you, sister?" Alfred questioned, his eyes wide.
Alexia sat on one of the carousel horses, her eyes downcast. She wished that she had a logical explanation for her brother, but nothing seemed to make much sense; her uncharacteristic behavior, the strange voices that seemed to persuade her - almost taunt her - to say the evil things she had. All day, she'd made herself believe that the voice was just a response to the anger that she felt, but she couldn't convince herself. It had been too REAL. "I don't know what to tell you, Alfred. Something came over me. It was if I became another person."
The carousel made circle after circle, playing a low melody as it did so. Alfred made a curious noise, his small form straddling the other brightly-painted horse. His fingers tapped the horse's head in a melody that he could hear. "I suspected that something was awry when Matilda insisted that I be the one to wake you and bring you your meals. Have you even spoken to the woman today?"
The female twin shook her head, her mind lost in a state of confusion. "No, I haven't seen her once." Trying to lighten the mood a bit, Alexia chuckled softly. "I must have frightened her quite a bit. She even let us come out to play today."
Alfred grinned, but it didn't hold much amusement. He was proud of his sister for standing up to the hag, but at the same time, the attitude did not seem to match his twin at all. She was usually so mild-mannered and calm. "Do not worry about it, sister. Someone had to put the wretch in her place."
Alexia hummed her concurrence, but she didn't know how much she agreed with her brother's statement. Although she hated the nanny with everything that was in her, part of her mind felt guilt for the words that she had spoken. "Perhaps the things I said were out of line."
"Perhaps," Alfred spoke with finality, and a long, thick silence hung in the air. The toy horses continued their feigned gallop in an endless circle, seeming intense on reaching their destination.
Alexia could no longer stand the quiet. She had to explain her actions somehow, if only to make herself feel better. "I went to the cemetery a few days ago. I asked Lady Veronica to give me a sign as to what I am supposed to do."
"Maybe she was listening to you," Alfred said, his voice unconvinced. He shrugged his small shoulders, the gray school uniform bunching at his sides.
"Maybe," Alexia mumbled. "You know, Alfred, the feeling that I had when I told Matilda those things; it was the strangest feeling that I have ever felt. Possibly the most wonderful one."
"What do you mean?" the male twin inquired, his pale-colored eyebrows knitting together in thought.
"It was thrilling to know that she was afraid of me. I imagine that it is what God must feel when Satan genuflects before him," Alexia continued, the words flowing from her mouth like a river.
Alfred made a face, his upper lip curling into a snarl. "Don't you think that sounds a bit blasphemous?"
"Maybe you're right, brother, but that is the best way that I can describe it. I knew that she was afraid of me, and it was...nice." Alexia made an effort of adjusting the buttons of her gray blazer.
"Hrmph. I suppose," Alfred responded, resting his elbow on the hard plastic of the horse's hair. "In any case, it's dinner time. We should return to the mansion."
"Indeed."
________________________
"Children, I was beginning to wonder what had become of you," Alexander teased, rising from the wooden chair at the head of the dining room table. Matilda sat quietly to his right, unmoving, and fumbled with her cloth napkin. She did not look up when the children entered.
"I'm sorry, Father," Alexia spoke, a nervous edge creeping into her voice. "Alfred and I lost track of time while playing. Excuse our tardiness."
"Of course. Although, I cannot guarantee that your food will be warm." Alexander sat again, the chair creaking beneath his weight. He spread his hand outward, waving it over the huge spread of food that was sprawled across the tabletop. "Harman has cooked us a wonderful dinner to mark the special occasion."
"Special occasion?" Alfred inquired as he took a seat across from Matilda. He shared a look with his sister as she rested in the chair next to him.
Alexander beamed, rather pleased with himself. He forked a piece of roasted potato and brought it to his mouth, chewing it thoroughly and wiping his mouth with a napkin before speaking. "I wanted to wait until dinner to announce the news." Keeping the children in suspense, he sipped red wine from his goblet and again drew a napkin over his lips.
"Well, what is it, Father?" Alexia asked impatiently. Butterflies tickled the inside of her stomach, making her feel slightly nauseous.
Alexander seemed to enjoy the look of expectancy on his children's faces, but he finally conceded. "You children have done very well these past few weeks, and I think that you know who we have to thank for that." Alexander looked lovingly in Matilda's direction, but the nanny was still enthralled with her napkin.
Alexia winced. She knew what was coming next; she could feel it.
"Children, I feel that having a female figure in your life has made this family whole. In light of this, I have asked Matilda to be my wife."
Despite her expectancy, Alexia was still floored by the news. Even Alfred seemed to be in a sort of shock, his face paling. Words bubbled up from Alexia's stomach, words that the sweet little child would have never thought of saying before. "But, Father! She is a common girl! You're going to marry the nanny? That will disgrace the Ashford name!"
Alexander visibly blanched, the words that angrily spewed from his daughter's mouth catching him off-guard. "Alexia Veronica Ashford! You will not say such things! Do you know how horribly arrogant you sound?"
Alexia felt as if she was running out of options. Matilda's dream had been correct; she would marry Alexander and the twins would be shipped off to some boarding school. A sheen of tears clouded Alexia's vision, and her voice trembled as she spoke. "You did not even think of consulting us?! Do you care nothing for our feelings?"
Alexander's face grew a bright, angry red. "That is enough, young lady! This matter is not open for discussion!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing the delicate china to tinkle beneath the tabletop. "You and your brother will retire to your room. I do not want to see your face for the remainder of the evening!"
"As you wish!" Alexia screamed. Throwing back her chair, she marched towards the dining room door and left. Alfred looked confused and hurt, but he followed his sister dutifully.
Matilda watched the children leave the room and looked at the visibly shaken Alexander. Her voice was like velvet when she addressed him. "Do not be angry with them, my Lord. I am sure that Alexia feels as if you are betraying her mother's memory by marrying another. Surely she will open up to the idea in time."
Alexander said nothing.
Matilda leaned her head down, kissing the back of Alexander's hand and resting her cheek against it. Long red hair covered the nanny's face, hiding the wicked smile that played over her lips, the tongue that slowly drew across perfect, white teeth.
________________________
Alfred found his sister sitting starkly in her bed, seething with rage. "May I come in?" When Alexia didn't acknowledge his request, he entered, taking a seat next to her. "Sister, your actions worry me. You have not been yourself."
Alexia spoke harshly through gritted teeth, her fists clenching and unclenching. "Alfred, you know as well as I do what will become of us if Father takes that woman as his wife."
Alfred patted his sister's hand lovingly, trying to soothe her. His mind raced for something - anything - that would placate her. "Alexia, if it makes you feel any better, I do believe Matilda comes from a noble family. Her marrying Father will not tarnish the Ashford name."
"It is not that!" Alexia screamed hatefully, her eyes livid. "She will see to it that we are removed from this mansion. She has told me as much!"
"Father would never allow that," Alfred spoke, although there was little conviction in his voice.
Alexia shot her brother an angry glare. "For godssakes, Alfred, stop being so damn naïve! Once she becomes Father's paramour, our life is over."
Alfred felt infuriated. "Sister, I love you and I do not want to see you upset, but there is not much that we can do. We have no say-so over what Father does."
Alexia was silent for a moment, blonde strands hanging in her face and concealing her features. After a moment, she looked up at her brother, tears streaming down her porcelain face.
Alfred winced; he did not want to see his sister cry. Lovingly, he wiped away her tears with the back of his forefinger and took her hand in his. "Please do not cry, Alexia. It pains me to see you so disturbed."
"There is something that we can do," Alexia whispered, squeezing her brother's hand softly. "It is the only thing that we can do."
"What do you suggest?" Alfred asked, his heart breaking. "I will do all that I can to ensure your happiness."
Alexia's eyes pleaded with her brother silently. "We will do what must be done. We will kill her."
________________________
October 1, 1974
My Dearest Ancestor, Veronica Ashford,
I have been unfaithful to your memory. Forgive me.
I no longer hear your voice, and your thoughts are becoming less frequent. The weeks have been so difficult. Is it because I have grown to love another?
I am growing old, and I only wish to be happy. The longer I am away from you, the harder it becomes to go on. I find temporary solace in the arms of this woman, but it does not compare to the feeling I have when I know that you are there.
She wished to stay the night in my room tonight, but I refused. I refused because I wish to show you that I could never love another the way that I love you. Do you not see the sacrifice that I have made for you, my dear Veronica? Why do you continue to withhold your presence?
How can I atone for this? How can I make you come back to me?
I know that you are still in this place. I can feel you. But you are not with me; you have chosen another. WHY?
No one could love or understand you the way that I do. I am your loyal servant.
Beatrice still haunts me. She will never forgive me. She plants seeds of hate in the children. I feel as if I am losing my mind.
Without you, I shall die. Do not leave me, Veronica.
From a young age, I knew that my calling in life was to study every aspect of the insect world; their beautiful, graceful forms, their mass population, and their instinct to survive are aspects that humans attempt to replicate but manage to degrade miserably.
I was approximately three or four years old when I expressed to Father that my dream was to become a world-renowned entomologist; yet, he seemed less interested in my aspirations and ever more adamant that I continue studying genetics, chemistry, and virology. His blatant disregard for my ambitions impeded my personal goals, causing me to succumb to his ideologies until his dreams became my dreams. Although I never completely ignored my insect research, I placed it on the back-burner to accommodate his wishes. Only many years later did I realize that all of these subjects could be intertwined to form an altogether more powerful discipline, and thus the T- Veronica virus was born.
Nevertheless, the secrets of the T-Veronica virus will never be revealed to ill-bred mortals, as none of them could comprehend the complexity of it. William Birkin was unsuccessful, much as Albert Wesker will soon be. The information will be locked into my mind (as I will soon destroy any remaining research in paper form), and once the virus is spread throughout the world, no one will question its origin or characteristics. Every pathetic human will accept that it is there, and that they are better for it.
-Alexia Ashford
________________________
September 30, 1974
This is the first time that I have had the chance to write in the journal that Father presented me for my birthday. He said that all geniuses should take accurate notes of their research so that successes and errors can be documented for further use. I think that it is a little silly, so I decided to make it a personal diary. I'll never tell him, though, or he might become angry and take it away.
Since my birthday in May, there have been a lot of bizarre things going on. A month or so ago, I overheard Father talking with Harman about Alfred and me. Father was explaining that he believed I needed a female role model in my life. (I think that seeing my mother in her gravestone had something to do with that decision.) Harman seemed to agree, nodding so fervently that I thought his head might fall off and roll down the dining room table. He quickly stated that a nanny might be helpful when Father was busy with his paperwork. Father approved, commenting that some man (I can't seem to remember his name) was coming to visit, and that a nanny might help keep us in line.
I didn't really think that much would come of the discussion that I eavesdropped on, but within a week, Matilda arrived. Father called Alfred and me to the main hall to greet her, and from the moment I saw her waltz in, I knew that I would not like her. She just looked mean, although Father seemed to adore her. He complimented her on her hairstyle (a braid that didn't appear too fancy in my opinion) and invited her to get acquainted with us while he went to fetch Harman. She smiled to him sweetly and called him "my Lord" more times than I could count. When the door slammed behind Father, she turned to us and her loving expression disappeared. She whispered to us that she was going to "teach our snobby asses a lesson".
From that day on, she has tormented Alfred and me on any occasion that she can get. She makes us wake up at five o'clock in the morning every day, get us dressed, and prepares breakfast. As soon as we are done, she shuts us in our rooms with our lessons until lunch is ready. Instead of letting us go to the dining table to eat, she brings the food on trays to my room and yells at Alfred to come in and eat. After we eat what she deems to be enough, she orders Alfred to go back to his room and study until she calls for dinner. For the first time of the day, we get to visit with Father over the dinner table, and he always inquires about whether we like Matilda. Although I'd like to tell him the truth, that stupid woman warned us that if we told Father that we didn't like her, she would burn our favorite toys. So instead, Alfred and I just keep quiet about it.
I really don't like her at all. I think I could possibly hate her! I know that hating someone is a sin, but I think that God would understand if he had to put up with a mean woman like Matilda.
Recently, I have been studying insects in my lessons. All of them intrigue me, and I think that I have decided to build an ant farm! Father said that he would order one for me tomorrow, so I can't wait for it to arrive. I also decided that I want to decorate my room in dragonflies, but Father was angry when I told him that. He said that dragonflies were not pretty, and that I should have beautiful things in my room. I disagreed with him, assuring him that they are very elegant and graceful creatures, but he frowned and told me that he would not allow me to have anything with dragonflies on it in my room. I pouted, of course, until he called me a spoiled brat and marched off. I'm still not sure what got him so upset.
In any case, I need to go to sleep before Matilda sees that I am still awake.
-Alexia Ashford
________________________
Alexia tucked the pen inside the ivory pages and silently closed the diary, careful not to make much of a rustle. Placing her bare feet on the cool hardwood floor, she tiptoed to her dresser and eased open the top drawer, covering the leather binding with pairs of socks and underwear. After five minutes of meticulous arranging, she felt satisfied with the inconspicuous hiding place and made her way back to the comfort of her frilly canopy bed.
Climbing beneath the soft pink bedcovers, she puffed out the white pillar candle and watched the shadows disappear in the total darkness. She waved her petite hand in front of her face, suddenly wishing that the purging light of the candle was still burning. It was too dark and much too quiet. Not even the monotonous clanging of machinery in the factory was heard tonight, and she found herself missing the soothing metallic drones that had eased her into sleep night after night. Despite the fact that Alfred was across the hall and Matilda was down two rooms, she had the disturbing feeling of being utterly alone.
The Antarctic mansion had that affect on her, more so in the past few weeks - no visitors, no neighbors, no one. She'd never ventured beyond this place that she endearingly called home; her father had sternly commanded them never to go further than the carousel that decorated the outer courts, insisting that the factory area was very dangerous and not for children. From her bedroom window, she had seen some of the workers hauling large barrels into the facility, and they all had looked dirty and scary. Alfred was more curious about who or what lay beyond the iron doors, and more times than once, he had tried to urge Alexia to sneak in when no one was looking, but the girl had decided that it couldn't be anything of much importance. It was a factory; there wasn't anything fascinating about that. Alfred had managed a high-pitched giggled and called her a coward, insisting that she wouldn't get into trouble. She remembered his exact words clearly:
"You have always been Father's favorite. He'd probably punish me instead."
Then he'd sneered at her, her brother's features contorted vehemently in a way that she had never witnessed before. The outward display of emotion had both amused and frightened her, although she had been careful to cast off the last emotion with a forced coolness. Alexia had turned to look at him, mock merriment and a flicker of disdain dancing in her eyes, and he had blushed furiously before turning on his heels towards the exit. Although his envy had upset her, Alexia did her best to brush off her brother's odd behavior; being the secondary child, the one less doted on, surely had caused the surge of jealousy that Alfred had felt. She knew that her brother loved her dearly, and the words coming from his mouth had been aimed at their father, not her. The next day, Alfred had been contrite, asking her if she wanted his dessert. Alexia had smiled at him, silently assuring him that all was forgiven. He had returned the smile, the squabble forgotten.
Alexia rolled over in her bed, the springs squeaking slightly as she shifted and rearranged her pillows. Closing her eyes to the darkness, her mind raced through the events that had transpired since Matilda had arrived. The God-awful woman had been a pain in the twins' sides for weeks now, and Alexia felt that she was at her wits end. Her father was of no help; he seemed utterly oblivious to Matilda's dual-sided behavior and complimented her many times a day. The woman drank it up as if his flattery was an oasis in a desert, and then she would roll her tongue over her teeth and give the children a smug, pointed look that made Alexia's blood boil.
Even now, Alexia could feel the anger flooding her body like a poison, making her stomach churn and her eyes burn with frustrated unshed tears. Was her father absolutely blind? How could he not see that the woman was just waiting for an opportune time? Clenching her fists, she looked over at the clock. 2:49 AM. That woman would be in her room in a matter of hours, ripping Alexia from her covers and nagging about how lazy the child was. God, she hated Matilda.
'You could kill her.'
The voice caused Alexia to sit up straight in her bed, one of her plush pillows falling to the carpeted floor with an indiscernible thunk. Alexia's head swiveled from side to side, her blonde locks flying about her face and her wide eyes searching the darkness for the speaker.
"Who's there? Mother?" Alexia inquired, her voice quivering. With shaking hands, she fumbled about her nightstand, searching for the small book of matches that she kept near her candle. Locating them, she tore one from the book and struck it, the small flame doing little to light the large bedroom. Dark smoke rose to the ceiling as the thin slice of wood burned quickly, eating its way down the dry stick until the heat singed her delicate fingers. Groaning, she shook the match until it was extinguished, then struck another to light the pillar candle atop her nightstand. The room brightened twofold, but the light could not help her locate the origin of the voice that she had heard. Her back arrow straight and her heart hammering in her chest, she pulled the covers around her quaking body and called out again. "Come out. I know that someone is there..."
No response.
Alexia refused to blink, the bright blue orbs combing over every crevice and corner of the half-lit room. Someone had spoken to her, a voice that had been clear, cool, and genderless. And the words...the cruel, heartless sentence had been delivered without a shred of hesitation or remorse: 'You could kill her.'
Alexia shivered involuntarily, afraid of the voice speaking again. It was not her mother's voice this time. Although she had not spoken to her mother since the incident in the cemetery, Alexia knew that the voice belonged to someone else. Her mother had always been so kind; she had never said frightening things like that. This voice was different and much angrier.
Sleep. She needed to sleep and remove this bizarre situation from her mind. That was the best course of action now, she assured herself. She could think over the voice tomorrow, when her mind was less cloudy and full of fear. Hesitantly, she leaned down to retrieve her fallen pillow, her fingers barely grazing the soft pink exterior. Grumbling to herself, she strained her arm towards the feather-filled bag, reaching and stretching her fingertips, inwardly refusing to leave the safety of her bed. 'Monsters always get people when they put their feet on the floor,' her mind warned. With a final stretch that cramped her arm, she managing a firm grip on the pillowcase and drew it towards her, but the sound of footsteps making their way hurriedly down the hall caused her to freeze.
Alexia hardly had a moment to be afraid; Matilda burst through the bedroom door with a rush, the flickering candlelight playing over her livid features and tingeing her face a crimson color. The devil incarnate.
"You spoiled brat." Matilda marched purposefully to Alexia's bed, the large white nightgown blowing about her as if possessed. "You should have been asleep hours ago," she commanded, her voice high-pitched with anger.
"I...had a nightmare," Alexia lied. "I was frightened."
Matilda picked up the pillow and threw it onto the bed forcefully, barely missing the child's head. "I don't believe a word of it. You made enough noise to wake me from my sleep."
"I'm sorry," Alexia spoke, but something had snaked its way into her voice. Hateful amusement. Although Alexia tried to repress it, that 'something' seemed to take control of her body.
'You hate her, don't you?' whispered the voice.
"I doubt that one bit," Matilda nagged, kneeling to extinguish the candle with a haughty breath. The room was once again plunged into total blackness. The nanny's body disappeared along with the accompanying shadows, but her voice continued. "It's such a shame, too. I was having such a wonderful dream about your father. I'd convinced him to ship the two of you to military school, and he and I married." Her voice held sadistic glee as the sound of footsteps retreated towards the door. Alexia could almost imagine the nanny's tongue rolling over her teeth as she grinned in amusement.
'You are more powerful than she is. She is nothing.'
The voice only echoed in the child's ears, somehow lost in the whirlwind of emotions that were flooding Alexia's body. Yet it was there, pointed and matter-of-fact, speaking in many tones and sentences. Alexia felt an overwhelming sense of hatred for the red-headed woman spread throughout her, and her body felt as if set on fire. Words blasted into her skull, enticing her to speak them, promising that all would be well if she gave in. Becoming subjugated to the suggestions, she responded, her tone full of bitterness and anger. "Enjoy your dreams. You don't dream when you're dead."
"What was that?!" Matilda squealed unbelievably, and Alexia felt the nanny's presence near her bed again. The child could almost envision Matilda's animated motions and enraged green eyes. "You say that again, you little bitch!"
'She is laughable.'
As if mocking the woman, Alexia found herself giggling uncontrollably, unable to stop. It was almost as if someone was tickling her ribs, and although she knew that her retort had been disrespectful and wrong, that 'something' in her head told her that it was right. The woman had deserved every word, it cooed. She laughed harder, the guttural sound echoing from the walls and meeting her surprised ears. Tears began to stream freely down her face as the laughter continued, making her sides hurt.
Matilda felt a cold chill travel down her spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end; something wasn't right. Although she wanted nothing more than to strike the child into silence, the creepy laughter shook her to the bone. "Shut up!" Matilda whispered harshly. "I said shut up!" Alexia didn't stop; if nothing else, her incessant laughter grew louder. Matilda covered her ears with the palms of her hands, warning the child that her father would be called if she didn't cease. The nanny could barely hear her words over Alexia's amused giggle.
'That is enough. Stop.'
As suddenly as she had started, Alexia laughter halted. Only the sound of shallow breathing resonated from the little girl, and the pitch- black room seemed eerily quiet, almost evil. Matilda, jarred, spoke loudly, forcing her voice to carry security that she did not feel. "You will pay for this tomorrow, I assure you."
Not a sound in response. Matilda quaked, despite her best efforts at controlling the fear that rolled from her body in waves. Reaching into the pockets of her nightgown, she withdrew a book of matches and lit one with trembling hands. The light sparked and melded with the match, creating a small flame that didn't quell the unnatural feeling that hung heavily in the room.
The light reflected in Alexia's eyes as she stared at the nanny, her features twisted in a bizarre grin. She looked older than her years, the youthful, cherub-like face lost in the dancing flame of the match. "I suggest you leave my room before I lose my patience."
Before Matilda could reply, the match burned out, and the nanny cursed loudly at the burning sensation around her thumb and forefinger. As she moved to light another, the young girl's voice spoke up, loud and chilling.
"Go back to your dreams. Enjoy them while you have the opportunity."
Matilda shivered and felt a new wave of fear push through her body. Impulsively, she turned, her bare feet making loud patters across the hardwood floor as she fled the child's bedroom.
'It feels good to know that she fears you, doesn't it?'
Alexia's face was locked in a cruel smile. Her body felt so drained, but her mind rushed with a sort of power that she had never felt before. The nanny had FEARED her; she was able to almost taste the emotion radiating from Matilda. The feeling made her giddy, and when she heard Matilda's door slam shut and lock, she couldn't help but grin wider.
________________________
"You actually said that to her? What's possessed you, sister?" Alfred questioned, his eyes wide.
Alexia sat on one of the carousel horses, her eyes downcast. She wished that she had a logical explanation for her brother, but nothing seemed to make much sense; her uncharacteristic behavior, the strange voices that seemed to persuade her - almost taunt her - to say the evil things she had. All day, she'd made herself believe that the voice was just a response to the anger that she felt, but she couldn't convince herself. It had been too REAL. "I don't know what to tell you, Alfred. Something came over me. It was if I became another person."
The carousel made circle after circle, playing a low melody as it did so. Alfred made a curious noise, his small form straddling the other brightly-painted horse. His fingers tapped the horse's head in a melody that he could hear. "I suspected that something was awry when Matilda insisted that I be the one to wake you and bring you your meals. Have you even spoken to the woman today?"
The female twin shook her head, her mind lost in a state of confusion. "No, I haven't seen her once." Trying to lighten the mood a bit, Alexia chuckled softly. "I must have frightened her quite a bit. She even let us come out to play today."
Alfred grinned, but it didn't hold much amusement. He was proud of his sister for standing up to the hag, but at the same time, the attitude did not seem to match his twin at all. She was usually so mild-mannered and calm. "Do not worry about it, sister. Someone had to put the wretch in her place."
Alexia hummed her concurrence, but she didn't know how much she agreed with her brother's statement. Although she hated the nanny with everything that was in her, part of her mind felt guilt for the words that she had spoken. "Perhaps the things I said were out of line."
"Perhaps," Alfred spoke with finality, and a long, thick silence hung in the air. The toy horses continued their feigned gallop in an endless circle, seeming intense on reaching their destination.
Alexia could no longer stand the quiet. She had to explain her actions somehow, if only to make herself feel better. "I went to the cemetery a few days ago. I asked Lady Veronica to give me a sign as to what I am supposed to do."
"Maybe she was listening to you," Alfred said, his voice unconvinced. He shrugged his small shoulders, the gray school uniform bunching at his sides.
"Maybe," Alexia mumbled. "You know, Alfred, the feeling that I had when I told Matilda those things; it was the strangest feeling that I have ever felt. Possibly the most wonderful one."
"What do you mean?" the male twin inquired, his pale-colored eyebrows knitting together in thought.
"It was thrilling to know that she was afraid of me. I imagine that it is what God must feel when Satan genuflects before him," Alexia continued, the words flowing from her mouth like a river.
Alfred made a face, his upper lip curling into a snarl. "Don't you think that sounds a bit blasphemous?"
"Maybe you're right, brother, but that is the best way that I can describe it. I knew that she was afraid of me, and it was...nice." Alexia made an effort of adjusting the buttons of her gray blazer.
"Hrmph. I suppose," Alfred responded, resting his elbow on the hard plastic of the horse's hair. "In any case, it's dinner time. We should return to the mansion."
"Indeed."
________________________
"Children, I was beginning to wonder what had become of you," Alexander teased, rising from the wooden chair at the head of the dining room table. Matilda sat quietly to his right, unmoving, and fumbled with her cloth napkin. She did not look up when the children entered.
"I'm sorry, Father," Alexia spoke, a nervous edge creeping into her voice. "Alfred and I lost track of time while playing. Excuse our tardiness."
"Of course. Although, I cannot guarantee that your food will be warm." Alexander sat again, the chair creaking beneath his weight. He spread his hand outward, waving it over the huge spread of food that was sprawled across the tabletop. "Harman has cooked us a wonderful dinner to mark the special occasion."
"Special occasion?" Alfred inquired as he took a seat across from Matilda. He shared a look with his sister as she rested in the chair next to him.
Alexander beamed, rather pleased with himself. He forked a piece of roasted potato and brought it to his mouth, chewing it thoroughly and wiping his mouth with a napkin before speaking. "I wanted to wait until dinner to announce the news." Keeping the children in suspense, he sipped red wine from his goblet and again drew a napkin over his lips.
"Well, what is it, Father?" Alexia asked impatiently. Butterflies tickled the inside of her stomach, making her feel slightly nauseous.
Alexander seemed to enjoy the look of expectancy on his children's faces, but he finally conceded. "You children have done very well these past few weeks, and I think that you know who we have to thank for that." Alexander looked lovingly in Matilda's direction, but the nanny was still enthralled with her napkin.
Alexia winced. She knew what was coming next; she could feel it.
"Children, I feel that having a female figure in your life has made this family whole. In light of this, I have asked Matilda to be my wife."
Despite her expectancy, Alexia was still floored by the news. Even Alfred seemed to be in a sort of shock, his face paling. Words bubbled up from Alexia's stomach, words that the sweet little child would have never thought of saying before. "But, Father! She is a common girl! You're going to marry the nanny? That will disgrace the Ashford name!"
Alexander visibly blanched, the words that angrily spewed from his daughter's mouth catching him off-guard. "Alexia Veronica Ashford! You will not say such things! Do you know how horribly arrogant you sound?"
Alexia felt as if she was running out of options. Matilda's dream had been correct; she would marry Alexander and the twins would be shipped off to some boarding school. A sheen of tears clouded Alexia's vision, and her voice trembled as she spoke. "You did not even think of consulting us?! Do you care nothing for our feelings?"
Alexander's face grew a bright, angry red. "That is enough, young lady! This matter is not open for discussion!" He slammed his fist on the table, causing the delicate china to tinkle beneath the tabletop. "You and your brother will retire to your room. I do not want to see your face for the remainder of the evening!"
"As you wish!" Alexia screamed. Throwing back her chair, she marched towards the dining room door and left. Alfred looked confused and hurt, but he followed his sister dutifully.
Matilda watched the children leave the room and looked at the visibly shaken Alexander. Her voice was like velvet when she addressed him. "Do not be angry with them, my Lord. I am sure that Alexia feels as if you are betraying her mother's memory by marrying another. Surely she will open up to the idea in time."
Alexander said nothing.
Matilda leaned her head down, kissing the back of Alexander's hand and resting her cheek against it. Long red hair covered the nanny's face, hiding the wicked smile that played over her lips, the tongue that slowly drew across perfect, white teeth.
________________________
Alfred found his sister sitting starkly in her bed, seething with rage. "May I come in?" When Alexia didn't acknowledge his request, he entered, taking a seat next to her. "Sister, your actions worry me. You have not been yourself."
Alexia spoke harshly through gritted teeth, her fists clenching and unclenching. "Alfred, you know as well as I do what will become of us if Father takes that woman as his wife."
Alfred patted his sister's hand lovingly, trying to soothe her. His mind raced for something - anything - that would placate her. "Alexia, if it makes you feel any better, I do believe Matilda comes from a noble family. Her marrying Father will not tarnish the Ashford name."
"It is not that!" Alexia screamed hatefully, her eyes livid. "She will see to it that we are removed from this mansion. She has told me as much!"
"Father would never allow that," Alfred spoke, although there was little conviction in his voice.
Alexia shot her brother an angry glare. "For godssakes, Alfred, stop being so damn naïve! Once she becomes Father's paramour, our life is over."
Alfred felt infuriated. "Sister, I love you and I do not want to see you upset, but there is not much that we can do. We have no say-so over what Father does."
Alexia was silent for a moment, blonde strands hanging in her face and concealing her features. After a moment, she looked up at her brother, tears streaming down her porcelain face.
Alfred winced; he did not want to see his sister cry. Lovingly, he wiped away her tears with the back of his forefinger and took her hand in his. "Please do not cry, Alexia. It pains me to see you so disturbed."
"There is something that we can do," Alexia whispered, squeezing her brother's hand softly. "It is the only thing that we can do."
"What do you suggest?" Alfred asked, his heart breaking. "I will do all that I can to ensure your happiness."
Alexia's eyes pleaded with her brother silently. "We will do what must be done. We will kill her."
________________________
October 1, 1974
My Dearest Ancestor, Veronica Ashford,
I have been unfaithful to your memory. Forgive me.
I no longer hear your voice, and your thoughts are becoming less frequent. The weeks have been so difficult. Is it because I have grown to love another?
I am growing old, and I only wish to be happy. The longer I am away from you, the harder it becomes to go on. I find temporary solace in the arms of this woman, but it does not compare to the feeling I have when I know that you are there.
She wished to stay the night in my room tonight, but I refused. I refused because I wish to show you that I could never love another the way that I love you. Do you not see the sacrifice that I have made for you, my dear Veronica? Why do you continue to withhold your presence?
How can I atone for this? How can I make you come back to me?
I know that you are still in this place. I can feel you. But you are not with me; you have chosen another. WHY?
No one could love or understand you the way that I do. I am your loyal servant.
Beatrice still haunts me. She will never forgive me. She plants seeds of hate in the children. I feel as if I am losing my mind.
Without you, I shall die. Do not leave me, Veronica.