CHAPTER 23 - Story of outlast


Vadim Kiselev - "Outlast", "Mom, I'll see you again"


- Sit here, please, and wait for me - Oscar said to Ella, helping her sit on the bench at the table. The girl nodded slightly, not looking at her and trying to smooth the torn gown nervously. There was no way Ella would be able to return to her home in this outfit.

Oscar prepared water, a clean cloth and one of her dresses. Good thing she had just done the laundry recently, and the two dresses were in good enough condition to be lent. She returned to the main room and set the tub down beside the table. She dipped the canvas in the water and sat down next to Ella.

- First I'll check your face - she said gently, and the girl hesitantly lifted her head to reveal a face half of which was swollen and stained with dried blood. Tears formed dirty rivers on the blue skin.

The girl cried desperately all the way home, and Oscar could only cuddle her tiny, sore body. When they met one of the neighbors on the way, alerted by the gunshots, Ella pressed her swollen cheek against Oscar's chest as if she didn't want anyone to see what had been done to her. Oscar dismissed the neighbor gently, asking for a small favor, then drove Ella straight to their house. She was sure that the girl wanted to hide from the world as soon as possible.

- There's a slight cut here - she touched the cloth to the skin above her brow, and Ella hissed in pain.

- Will there be a scar? - the other asked in an almost inaudible whisper.

- In my opinion, no - Oscar smiled reassuringly - It's a minor wound, it will heal quickly and there will be no trace. The swelling will also probably go away in a few days. But I'm sure you know it well yourself, after all, you're much better at it than I am.

The girl smiled faintly and didn't say a word. Oscar patiently washed the blood and dirt off her face, then treated her wounded hand. Under normal circumstances, Ella probably would have preferred to do it herself, but this time she let someone else do it. She put herself in the hands of Oscar like small child let their mother treat a bruised knee. She watched Oscar patiently wash the wounds on her forearms, but when was asked about the legs, she shook her head.

- I'll do it myself - she said with difficulty, not meeting her eyes.

- Ella - Oscar asked gently - Did they do something to you? If so..

- No - the girl said quickly - You made it on time - she added, raising her head and looking at her gratefully - Thank you..

- It's nothing - Oscar waved her hand, handing her a freshly soaked cloth – Take it please. You can change now, while I will go to pour out the water.

When she returned, Ella was dressed in a clean gown, sitting still and staring unseeingly at the garden outside the window. Oscar put down the tub, made them both coffee, and sat down with the mug beside her without saying anything.

- I should have taken a different route - Ella said after a while, more to herself than to her - Or not going to the river at all today. What tempted me..

- You couldn't have known that, Ella - Oscar replied, gripping the cup tightly in her hands.

- Right, I couldn't - the girl nodded and looked away from the window, then up to Oscar's face - It was always such a quiet village, nothing ever happened here. I felt safe in this place after all that my mother and I went through in.. - Ella paused and looked again at the woman sitting next to it, as if realizing who she was. She closed her mouth and hesitated.

- Say nothing if you don't want to - Oscar smiled, trying to reassure her - But if it would help you deal with your emotions, then I'm here.

Ella sighed and nervously rubbed her red and wounded hands. She sipped her coffee and looked back at Oscar.

- I'm not from here - she finally said - And Christophe Moreau is not my real father. My real name is Ella Fernandez Rubio and I was born in Carral, a small village next to Bilbao.

My mother, Maria Rubio Sanchez, came from the neighboring village of Montellano, where she lived with her parents and two younger sisters. Her family was not rich, so when the opportunity arose, her parents sold my mother to a wealthy bachelor without longer thinking. I said they sold.. She actually married him, but she was more of a servant there than a wife. Slave. My father, Samuel Fernandez Perez, was a bad man. He never hid that he chose my mother just because she was beautiful. The most beautiful mujer in this area of Spain. Mom wasn't educated. She couldn't write or read. She had no skills except running the house and being its decoration. However, what attracted my father to my mother gave rise to conflicts. At first he said she was too beautiful, and it caused outbursts of uncontrollable jealousy. Then she got pregnant and her body began to change, and then she wasn't beautiful enough for him anymore. Other women began to appear in the house, and he hit her for the first time. My mother then ran away to her family, and they brought her back to her husband. They did not want to lose the financial support they received from him. Grandpa then talked to my father and asked him to spare the child. Not her.. Child.. Son who was to be heir. And then I was born. My father's greatest disappointment. Soon after, my father beat my mother to the point that she was unable to move for a week. Our two maids looked after me. And so we were almost equal to them. From that moment on, my father kept beating my mother, and she hid the bruises under her clothes so that no one would see how much he was humiliating her. She lasted like this for years, for me.. When she lost her second pregnancy and it turned out that she would not be able to have any more children, my father went mad and told us to move to a small room next to the kitchen. And that's how we lived there. We helped the girls in everything, and they repaid us with kindness. The mother should have gone then. I don't know.. why she didn't do it.. All she got in that house were kicks, cheeks and curses. One day.. I was twelve then.. That evening my father tried to get to me. He was drunk so I managed to get away but when I told my mom she went crazy. The next day we were on our way to France..

Mom left all that life behind, thinking that a new beginning would give us a chance for a better life..

In Bilbao, we got on a small fishing boat, which, for a small fee, took us to La Rochelle. Mom just wanted to disappear, to fall into the ground. And only the sea route gave us the opportunity to dissolve into thin air. We boarded the ship and our footprints on Spanish soil disappeared. We both rejoiced like children when the outlines of Spain finally blurred on the horizon. But when we got off at La Rochelle, we realized that we didn't even know where to start. Where to go. What to do with ourselves. Mom had little savings that she had been collecting over the years, but it wasn't much. For the next two weeks we lived in a small inn on the outskirts of the city. It was poor and dirty, but cheap. During this time, my mother tried to find a job, but to no avail. Maria Rubio Sanchez did not have any skills that would allow her to find a good job. She quickly realized this, driven from every door. I remember her quietly crying every night as she shared between us the small amount of food she could buy. The money was running out and our situation was getting more and more serious. One evening, my mother came to the room and without a word began to pack our things. Then she sat down beside me and asked me to trust her. I didn't ask her anything then, afraid of what I might hear.

We stayed in the house of Madame Nathalie. Aunt Nathalie, as I later began to call her.

Madame's house was a brothel.

Aunt was very good to us. We had a cozy, clean and warm room on the ground floor, right next to the kitchen and living room, and auntie lived in the room opposite. At the top of the tenement house, there were rooms where girls worked. Mom didn't have to see many clients. Aunt Nathalie admired her still youthful beauty and decided not to overuse her. She took care of me as if I were her real niece. She taught me how to read and write. She also revealed to me the secrets of herbal medicine and pain relief. It was thanks to her that I could become a quack. Thanks to aunt, we found kindness and a ray of light in this God-forsaken hole.

We met Christophe Moreau two years later. He was the son of a local baker, but he did not live in the area. Then we found out that his home was in Angles and he only came to visit his family occasionally. He was a fresh widower and had no children. Aunt Nathalie knew him before and liked him very much because he was neatly dressed and always polite. He never forgot to pay and sometimes he would bring flour as a thank you for the kind service. When he met my mother, he didn't want to go out with any of Madame's other girls anymore. He came once a month, then twice. After a year, he proposed. Mother laughed at him at first, and then she was angry. She thought he was making fun of her. And he patiently explained that he fell in love with her from the very first moment and could not imagine that he would leave her in this hell.

My mother was afraid. To her, Madame's brothel was home now. Her profession was perhaps not very respectable, but we were safe and nobody beat us. My aunt also made sure that nobody touched me. But my mother only associated marriage with fear, pain and tears. She didn't want to have to run away again.

But Christophe Moreau was very stubborn. He came constantly and persuaded. He talked about his home in a small, quiet village in New Aquitaine. About the mill and the gentle waters of Anglin that powered it. About a cottage, which may not have been large, but clean and comfortable. Christophe asked his mother to give herself a chance to spend the rest of her life in peace. He also wanted her daughter to be able to learn. There were schools in Chavigny and Fontgombault where he could try to enroll me. I remember that I was always sitting in the corner of our room and listening to his stories with a flushed face. A quiet, happy life was something I'd only read about in the fairy tale books Aunt Nathalie bought for me. That's how it always ended. After many adversities, the heroes finally find happiness. And then: "they lived happily ever after."

One day in November, my mother started coughing. Her body was always strong and she fought diseases quickly, so I hardly noticed it. After a week, she started to have a fever. Aunt tried to save her using all her skills, but to no avail. Mom died shortly after. I didn't even manage to say goodbye to her. She died in the night, while I was sleeping next to her, unaware of anything..

Christophe arrived the next day. When he found out what had happened, he decided to take me to Angles with him. Aunt Nathalie didn't want to agree, but he patiently explained to her that the child would have no future if she stayed in the brothel. I was only fifteen at the time.

I remember when the next day after the funeral we were in a carriage towards New Aquitaine. I looked around curiously because everything was new and fascinating to me. I think that the fact of my mother's death did not reach me then. Or maybe I pushed it out of my heart to suffer less.

Christophe was sitting beside me, leading the horses, without saying a word. He pressed the cap deeply on his forehead so I wouldn't see his tears. But I will never forget his cry on the night we finally got home to Angles. He thought I was asleep, but I heard everything.

The following years were indeed peaceful. Christophe Moreau turned out to be the best, most gentle man imaginable. He raised me with patience and understanding. He took care of all my needs. It didn't take long for me to start saying Dad to him. And it stayed that way. Then he arranged the paperwork and I became his adopted daughter. I changed my name. Instead of going to school, I helped him run the house, but I don't regret it. Every day I try to repay him for his kindness and the new life he has given me. It is a pity that my mother did not have the chance to taste this happiness. But I'm sure she is looking down at me now and is glad it turned out that way. Someday we would meet again and then I can hug her and tell her how grateful I am for what she has done for me. For sacrificing her life for me.

Ella broke off as her voice cracked. She sat there for a moment, silently wiping away the tears that had begun to run down her cheeks. She sighed a couple of times as if trying to push away painful memories, then smiled slightly.

Thanks to the knowledge that Madame Nathalie gave me, I was able to start healing people. The inhabitants are really poor here and most cannot afford to see a doctor, so I help them as best I can. I dress and suture wounds, I brew herbs for fever and different pains, I even put together broken bones. You're smiling, Francoise, because it's probably hard to believe that small hands like mine can put together a huge male bone. But I have my ways. I will not let what Aunt Nathalie taught me go to waste. I try to increase my skills every year, I learn new things. So when Andre showed up..

The girl paused and looked at Oscar's face with consternation. She shared the sad story of her life with her, but knew the topic of Andre was difficult for both of them.

- Go on - Oscar said, not sure why she actually wanted to hear it. Did she see this as the kind of punishment she should take?

I remember that my dad came running out of breath and asked me to get the herbs and dressings and immediately came to the old Daquin house. That's what everyone used to call this place. Daquin House. And now this is Grandier's house - Ella laughed lightly.

Andre wound's were nasty. His head was broken, but the worst part was the sword slash that dragged down his back. The wound didn't heal, and I used all my ways to do something. Andre also had a long fever. He lay in a lethargy, as if he didn't want to live at all.

Grandma Marie also fell ill then. I don't know how she managed to bring half-alive Andre, while looking after Lusien, who was tiny at the time. She did it, but then her body refused to obey. So..

Ella paused again. She wasn't a bragging person.

- So you've taken care of everything - Oscar said, now understanding what Nanny had meant when she said Ella was young, but would be able to deal with the house and babysitting. It was her past experiences that made her so mature at such a young age. Life did not spare her, and her story was a true outlast story.

Ella nodded but said nothing.

- You are a good person, Ella - Oscar said in a tight voice. Suddenly the desire to get rid of this girl seemed highly inappropriate, and the same feeling as before, the feeling of being a monster with a heart of stone, fell on Oscar without warning - I am so sorry your life was so horrible..

- Sorry? - the girl was surprised - Why would you be sorry? My life was difficult, but I found happiness at last. Family. The only regret is that I cannot share this happiness with my mother.

Oscar nodded. How would she explain to this girl that her own noble existence, containing of all luxuries, seemed unbearable to her sometimes, while that life was an everyday struggle. Stupidity.

- How are you now? - she asked to change the subject - If you want I would drive you home on a horse, or we can wait for Andre. He should be back soon.

Ella twitched and stared at her face with terrified eyes.

- You can't tell Andre, Francoise - she grabbed her hand and squeezed her desperately - He can't find out. Please promise me!

- Are you sure? - Oscar asked, and the other confirmed, clinging even tighter to her arm.

- Andre knows my story. What if he thinks that I.. - Ella blushed and fell silent, embarrassed.

- Okay - Oscar sighed - So let's hide this dress - she stood up and reached for what was left of Ella's beautiful pale pink dress.

That's when Andre ran into the house. He stood in the doorway, and when he saw the scraps of the bloody dress in Oscar's hands, his eyes widened with terror. He ran to her and grabbed her gently by the shoulders.

- Is everything alright, Oscar? - his voice vibrated with concern and anxiety - Are you okay? Was it you shooting?

Oscar felt her face flush and she realized almost painfully that Ella was sitting right behind her, witnessing the scene. She wanted to punch Andre on the head to sober him up.

- Yes, it was me who was shooting - she answered quickly - But it's not me..

But she didn't have time to say any more, because she saw Andre's eyes widen even more and his grip loosened. He swept the girl behind Oscar with a shocked gaze, her swollen face and hands covered with bruises and wounds.

- Ella.. - he whispered painfully.

- Leave me alone - the other croaked in an unfriendly voice.

Oscar saw the girl walk past them both and, looking at nothing, ran outside, leaving the door wide open. Andre paused.

- Follow her - Oscar said, feeling her heart turn to ice.

- But she said.. - Andre started, but the woman wouldn't let him finish.

- Follow her, for God's sake! - she shouted, losing her temper - She's hurt and she didn't even take any scarf, she'll freeze!

Andre stood still hesitating, so Oscar took her shawl, put it in his hands, and pushed him almost forcibly over the threshold.

Two days later, before noon, Pierre showed up at Grandier's house. Oscar at the time was busy raking leaves that had fallen into the yard. Their house was surrounded by many beautiful, large trees. Linden, beech, and hornbeam formed a nice canopy of leaves in summer, but when they all started shedding leaves in the fall, a carpet that was difficult to walk formed in the driveway. Oscar liked this uncomplicated work. She could have completely forgotten herself in these simple, uniform movements. She tried not to think about the recent events or the disappointment that froze her heart.

When she saw Pierre entering the yard, she almost dropped the rake. The boy entered hesitantly, looking around, and when he saw her, he quickened his pace.

- Good morning, Francoise - he greeted her.

She bowed politely, just as Nanny had taught her to. The male soldier's greeting somehow ceased to be appropriate when she wore a gown.

- What are you doing here? - Oscar was surprised, looking at him suspiciously.

Pierre scratched his head with a little embarrassment.

- I heard.. - muttered - I heard that something bad happened in Angles.. I got scared and decided to make sure.. that you are ok - he choked out.

- As you can see, I'm all right - Oscar looked at him intensively. She wanted to ask him how he knew about the incident, but decided that discussing the matter might arouse his interest, so she gave up.

- Yes, I see - Pierre smiled radiantly - It's a very nice house.. - he began, but stopped, because at that moment he noticed Andre, who stood in the door of the forge. Andre nodded in greeting, but didn't come over, just leaned against the gate as he watched the whole scene from a distance.

The man nodded back, but it was obvious that he felt uncomfortable.

- Can I invite you to tea? - Oscar asked, trying to avoid looking at Andre.

The situation was strange. The ever-kind Andre looked at Pierre now with a mixture of curiosity and dislike. Perhaps he was just distrustful. And the recent events shocked him even more. That other evening he returned home completely devastated. When she asked him how Ella was doing, he only muttered that she hadn't even let him into the house. After the dinner he ran away, excusing himself by cleaning the forge. Only on the morning next day he asked about the whole situation and Oscar saw his hands clenched into fists during the story.

Every day Oscar realized painfully how much Andre cares about Ella, and how little about her.

Still, Andre was standing by the door of the forge now, quietly wiping his dirty hands and pretending he didn't care about the scene in the backyard, and yet he didn't go back to work.

Before Pierre could respond to her proposal, Oscar felt a pair of small hands cling to her legs. Lusien hid behind her wide skirt, intimidated by the appearance of a stranger.

- Come on, Lusien - Oscar encouraged him - Say hello politely.

The boy stepped reluctantly from behind her, still clinging to the fabric of her dress as if it was giving him strength, and held out his hand in greeting.

- Good morning - he said.

Oscar looked up to see Pierre staring at the child with great attention, consternation on his face. However, he quickly sobered up.

- Good morning. Nice to meet you - he replied, squeezing the little boy's hand - What is your name?

- I am Lusien - the child said proudly - Lusien Grandier. And there is my dad. Great-grandmother is at home. And Aunt Francoise is lovely - he spewed all this information in one breath, then hugged Oscar's legs as he used to.

Oscar chuckled and stroked his dark, disheveled hair delicately.

- Lusien is like that - she smiled at Pierre - You just have to get used to it.

- The boy is Monsieur Andre's son, right? - asked the man with a slight tremble in his voice, but Oscar didn't notice.

- Yes, he is - she said, without looking up, lest he read the truth from her eyes.

- A very cute little boy - Pierre said softly - About the tea. Thank you very much, but I should probably go. I will not disturb you.

Before Oscar could protest, he grabbed her hand and kissed her gallantly, then turned and ran away, only glancing quickly at Andre, who hadn't even moved from under the forge.

Oscar stood for a long time, pensive, leaning on the rake. What exactly did Pierre want?

Andre asked only one question about the visit, and that wasn't until dinner.

- This man today was.. Pierre, right? - he asked casually, not even looking at her.

- Yes, that's the teacher I told you about - Oscar replied truthfully.

- Yhm - Andre confirmed he had taken note of the information and asked nothing more.