Author's Note: Yes, I rushed the last chapter a little. I'm sorry, but I'm truly anxious to end this story (even though it's been a ton of fun to write!) and start anew. I didn't mean for the 8th chapter to be so rushed, I know that I skimmed over a lot of it, but I have no wish to linger on the tortures V put her through- like V in this chapter, I'd like to move on. Hopefully y'all will like his chapter better!
V
She sleeps beside me, quiet and frail. Her presence is foreign, but her body is warm beneath my hands- soft along the curve of her waist, angular on the jutting of her hip. It killed me to hurt her, but she does not believe me. I do not know what to expect from her when she awakens. She will be furious; I expect a continuation of last night's ranting. She hates me now, she thinks me a sick liar, that I enjoyed doing all that I did to her.
Evey…I wonder if she can possibly understand how I hated myself, how sick I was after each session. No. She doesn't know, and I won't tell her. It's better to move on, not to stew over the details. It's over, at least for now.
I gave her a month's taste of what I'd had years to savor- it should be enough now that she will finally understand. My poor Evey. Dark circles hang under her eyes, the dark bruises I've left on her body are prominent, even in the dim light of my bedroom.
I'm reminded of her first several nights here in the Shadow Gallery when I'd watched her as she slept. I'd been confused, and fascinated and…curious, in a way. This night is different- tonight I was not an observer in her fitful sleep, but a participant. I'd laid her against me, daring to put an arm about her waist to keep her still. Her skin is soft and pale; my hand is contrasted darkly against the gentle curve of her torso.
I think it best to leave her side now- mine will be the last face she'd want to see when she wakes up. I leave the room and begin to move about the Gallery, tidying up, awaiting the mistress's return.
It's several more hours before I hear my bedroom doors open. Evey is awake. I rush to the kitchen and begin a small meal. I had half-starved her, she is without a doubt famished. Last night she collapsed on the roof, now from overwrought emotions, but from pure and simple hunger.
I begin her eggs.
Turning, I see her pale figure standing in the doorway, one little foot over the threshold. She's watching me, staring, seeking. I set the food aside for a moment and turn to face her fully. Her body is thin and bruised, but it is not her body that concerns me. It is her eyes.
Where once she was timid, her eyes reflect a burning strength. The brown pools are looking into my own, seeking the eyes behind the mask. She can see me.
I expect her to start screaming, throwing things at me, all the while declaring eternal hatred. Instead, she moves forward, into the circle of my arms. I can feel the bones of her shoulders and spine through the cotton of her shirt, but more importantly I can feel the pulse of her heartbeat against my chest.
Her arms loosen from my back, and without a word she sits down at the table. I set the plate in front of her. She does not begin to devour her breakfast- to do so would induce vomiting. Evey begins to eat slowly, savoring each bite. It will be short work to restore her health, but I will enjoy doting on her again.
I am pleased, and refill her teacup.
Evey has not spoken to me, but nor has she reviled…it was she who reached for me, was it not? I wish I understood women better; no, I wish I understood Evey better. She is not like other people, she is different. No one has ever stepped in to help me, no one has ever endured torture to protect me.
Torture…What can I say to her? "I'm sorry, but it had to be done."? She can't possibly understand that. I beat her, I deprived her of food, I held her head underwater…I became the guards of Larkhill- my only mercy was that I allowed Evey to keep her virginity. Had her capture been genuine, that would have been among the first things taken from her- if not by the guards, then certainly by another inmate.
I couldn't do it, I am horrible, but that was a line that even I dared not cross.
Evey disappears from the kitchen while I am off in my thoughts, and I find her again on the chaise lounge reading. She doesn't wish to be disturbed, so I leave her. I go outside where, in classic English fashion, it is raining again, hard and heavy. I don't venture far, not a full five blocks from the Gallery.
There is nothing for it, really. Things have been set into motion while Evey was with that Gordon friend of hers; the only thing left to do is wait for the fifth. I should relish my time to wait for the big bang- but I feel restless, and there is another feeling, hinting around the hollow of my chest, itching at the corner of my mind. It took me several minutes of pondering to identify this new and strange feeling: dread. Dreading the fifth? I didn't know why I would feel such a way, but there are more important things to consider than my dismissive feelings.
I circle round, and when I return to the Gallery, Evey is still reading. She barely glances at me when I pass, and I do not attempt to draw her out. This isn't going as I'd expected.
The hour grows late, and even the wicked must sleep. I slip into my room and remove the gloves, setting them on the vanity counter. The boots and cloak are next. The fedora hat, and then the tunic vest. I have left my bedroom doors open in case Evey calls for me, and thus I leave the mask on- she has seen my hands, but my face must remain hidden.
I slouch up on the headboard, propped by pillows and begin to read a book of my own. I hear footsteps, and before I can react, Evey has slipped into the bed beside me, curling in and settling down. I don't know what to do.
"Evey…" I start.
She turns to look up at me and there is a strange, sad smile gracing her lips. "Don't say anything, V. It's over now,"
Her voice is hoarse, but I do as she asks, and stay silent beside her.
The next morning it seemed that nothing had ever change between us. Evey's hunger for knowledge rivaled her physical hunger for food. She had lost several pounds, and I was only too happy to help her regain the weight. I answered her every question about the art of my home, the actors in my film collection and the authors of my books.
We laughed and told amusing stories for hours. I had never felt so happy- my loneliness dissipated, I had a friend. Evey slept in bed with me for one week. In truth, it was all innocence- we slept on our sides, nestled together like spoons. My bare hand would stray to her waist of its own accord; a touch Evey did not deny me.
I just wanted…It was on the night of the seventh day when Evey turned to face me, my hand still on her waist. She lifted her hand to my mask, stroking it with a great deal of tender affection. Her eyes, strong and dark, were wet with tears. "V…this will be the last time…"
Her voice was hesitant, and I was beginning to understand. She had been quiet lately, staring far off into space. Her silence spoke volumes; a distance had been wedged between us, born of her need to finally escape me. Evey was going to leave, and this time I could do nothing to stop her.
I said nothing, only held her closer to me. Eventually we both slipped into uneasy sleep.
We woke together the next morning, quiet and unsure. I went to the alcove of my room where I'd left my gloves and boots. Evey had disappeared into her former bedroom. I tried to keep the routine of our morning rituals intact; hoping, somehow, that if I did nothing differently, Evey would remain with me.
Is it selfish to wish her to stay? Yes, but it was true all the same. She had given me hope, companionship, so much more than I could ask for…please, Evey…
She did not appear for breakfast. The tea had cooled before I went on to the main foyer and selected a song to play. Every tragedy should have the proper soundtrack. The song was fitting, the music hung heavy on my soul. I stared at the records inside the jukebox, and thought of all the great singers of the banned past.
What tragedy could have occurred in their own lives to make them create such melancholy rhythms? If given the opportunity, I hadn't a doubt that I could've performed a thousand sad songs for Evey and myself. I wanted her to stay, and it tore at my insides to know that nothing I could say or do would prevent her leaving me.
I didn't hear Evey approach me from behind.
"V, I'm leaving."
What could I say to that, that simple declaration? The certainty in her voice was final. Who was I to keep her caged down in the galleries with me? I've given her the wings of true courage- it would be cruel to refuse her the freedom to fly…
I looked down into the jukebox. "There are 872 songs in here. I've listened to all of them but I've never danced to any of them."
"Did you hear me?"
I turned to face her, leaning my back against the music. "Yes." I hated the way my voice sounded: quiet, resigned…sorrowful.
"I can't stay here."
"I know. You won't find any more locked doors here."
She moved forward, and I saw that she had Valerie's letter, her last testament to the world. "I thought about keeping this, but it didn't seem right, knowing that you wrote it."
"I didn't." I said. Off her confused expression, I led her away. "Can I show you something before you go?"
Evey followed me to the private shrine I'd built for the actress, the beauty, Valerie Page. Movie posters and clippings from magazines adorned the walls, and bushes of scarlet Carson roses blossomed throughout the small room I'd dedicated to the woman whose spirit lived on in me.
Poor Valerie...I might have been able to save her, but truly it had been she who'd saved me by dying. It was only days after the chalk X appeared on her door that I made my escape, and was reborn. I shake the thought away and focus on the girl by my side.
Evey gasped out, "She was real?"
I could only nod.
"She's beautiful, did you know her?"
Behind the mask, I sighed heavily- the end was near, the last thing I wanted. "No. She wrote the letter just before she died. I delivered it to you just as it had been delivered to me."
I saw the realization in her eyes- it wasI who had beenthe truevictim in the fifth room.
Yes, Evey,now you know the truth about your masked protector…
"The it really happened, didn't it? You were in the cell next to her, and that's what this has all been about. You're getting back at them for what they did to her…and to you."
Her voice was slightly accusatory- almost as if she was disappointed.
I'm sorry Evey, but I cannot forgive what they did and you are a fool if you should dare expect it of me…
"What they did to me, they created me." I said. "It's a basic principle of the universe that every action will create an equal and opposing reaction," I added. It seemed a pathetic excuse for justifying all that I'd done, and all that there was still left to do, but I just couldn't manage to explain myself.
"Is that how you see it, like an equation-"
"What was done to me was monstrous!" I barked at her.
She did not flinch. "And they created a monster."
If she wanted to hurt me, her arrow met its mark. I am a monster, everything about me is as hideous as it is terrible- but I won't stop my plan. Not for her or anyone else. She has been the only good thing in my life, but I can't stop now, I'm too close. I must change the world for the people, for her.
Evey…"Do you know where you'll go?"
She smiled, "No, that would have scared me before…I suppose I should thank you for that."
She stepped forward to me then, and suddenly, her facevery close. Her eyes dropped to the lips of the mask, but just as quickly as she'd moved to me, she stepped back. Why kiss me, Evey? Hard, sone-cold metal is all you will feel, a faint coppery tang is all you will taste. I longer for her to lay a hand on my chest, just the gentlest brush of her fingers against my gloved hands.
She never even touched me...
Evey back away and took a deep breath to gather her nerves. "Thank you, and goodbye."
I could have let her go, never to see her again, but I am a man, and inherently selfish…
"Evey, can I ask you for something?"
She turned and nodded, a reproachful look in her eyes- if I asked her to stay, I knew that she would agree, but I couldn't do that to her. A man does not set the dove free, only to call it back again. "If I had one wish, it would be to see you again, if only once, before the fifth."
It was a compromise- I just wanted to see her again, to know she was safe, and that she would remember mewhenmy end came.
Evey nodded in acquiesce to my plea, and with a few steps more, she was gone.
The sound of the hidden door closing echoed in the Gallery for what felt like a millennium, even weeks after she'd left. With Evey so suddenly gone, it felt as if the beauty of the art around me faded. No book could hold my attention, no film had any appeal. The scarlet Carsons, even in fill bloom, seemed withered. The sight of Valerie- once a source of peace and renewed inspiration- only made me restless.
The vendetta, the great plan, is still first in my mind- my determination never wavers. I've planned with the upmost precision, but I feel strange- there is an emptiness inside that I long to fill. The dread that I'd felt has returned, stronger and more forceful. I see now the way to end the government is by turning the main party members against each other- and there is only one way to ensure fulfillment of my own Faustian bargain.
That's what it's all about in the end, trying to cheat the devil.
My end is growing closer with each passing day. Several times I have heard sirens racing from one direction to another- perhaps to capture Evey, perhaps to capture an innocent just like her. I force the images of the brutal tortures I'd visited upon her from my mind- I would like nothing more than to remember the happier times. I'm terrified that she's been captured, and has been tortured these past months that she's been gone.
My Evey...
The fifth grows near, and I've adopted the strange habit of waiting. Simply waiting in her former bedroom, just waiting for her to return. I can feel it in my bones, with an instinctive certainty, that my end is near.
Will Evey return to me before it's all over? Will she keep her promise, and come to me before the fifth?
With Evey gone, there was no need to wear the mask. I look into the eyes of my own reflection, furious with myself for allowing tears. I throw the mask into the mirror, happily shattering the glass. Ashamed, pathetic, and very, very alone, I slumped to the floor and sobbed among the shards.