"Swore that two lives should be like one
As long as the sea-gull loved the sea,
As long as the sunflower sought the sun,-
It shall be, I said, for eternity
'Twixt you and me!
Dear friend, those times are over and done;
Love's web is spun."
-Her Voice, Oscar Wilde-
Chapter Five
"…Keepsakes bestowed by Love…"
Sebastian and Aleta surveyed their gloomy surrounding. Lightning continued to strike and flash, whereas the rumbling thunder beleaguered them in an uneasy way. The pair had arrived at a house, and the detective suddenly heard someone talking inside the dwelling. He silently signaled Aleta to keep quiet before pulling out his gun. Sebastian felt Aleta moving closer to him and grasp his sleeve for assurance.
They climbed the wooden steps to the second level of the abode. Sebastian could hear the source coming from behind one door. And so he steadily pushed the obstruction and swiftly aimed his gun. "Who's there?" the detective demanded.
"No, don't shoot! I'm not one of them. I'm a doctor, Marcelo Jimenez."
"Doctor Jimenez?" Aleta peeked out from her hiding place. "It is you!" She moved away from Sebastian, and ran over to the aforementioned man.
The doctor seemed surprised, perhaps even startled. "Miss Volante, I've been looking everywhere for you and Leslie. Are you hurt anywhere?"
Aleta shook her head. "A little shaken, but I'm fine, nonetheless," she said.
Doctor Jimenez then nodded to Sebastian. "Thank you; at least I have one of my patients with me."
"Have you seen anyone else?" Sebastian asked, putting away his firearm from view.
"I might have seen Leslie running up ahead, but…" Jimenez drawled.
"But…?" Aleta looked at one gentleman to another. The doctor placed a hand on her shoulder and steered her towards the balcony. She glanced back at Sebastian, and noticed the suspicion growing in his dark eyes.
"Come this way. Quietly, mind you."
Aleta gazed through the mist, seeing a dozen of Haunted villagers wandering in the large enclosure. Doctor Jimenez went on to explain that they had chased him into this settlement, as did Sebastian. He likewise pointed out where Leslie had gone through. Aleta briefly wondered how the boy managed to slip by without aid. She gripped the handrail tightly when the wooden gate suddenly came down by itself. She overheard the two men discuss a way to open that obstruction while the other one serves as a diversion. Another thought of Joseph crossed her mind, and she thought of nothing but betrayal and melancholy.
"Aleta," Sebastian's gruff voice called her out. She looked at him with wide eyes, and barely noticed Doctor Jimenez slip away from them. "Will you be alright on your own?"
"I'm not sure…" she glanced down into the ground below. She then questioned if she could die from this height just to make things easier. "I'm so scared."
"Just find a safe place to hide for now. I'll come and find you, don't worry." Aleta could only nod. Sebastian had been thoughtful enough to escort her to one of the abandoned houses.
Unexpectedly, he took out a sharp dagger. Aleta rapidly tensed at the faint gleam along the edge. But the detective simply hacked away at the entry, leaving a symbol to point out where she is hiding. After which, he closed the door, and she was alone again. She studied the first room, which was a den belonging to a hunter, for there were deer heads and antlers attached upon one gray wall. Though they were long dead, Aleta could still sense the intensity of their gazes, and the last thing they must have felt was undeniable fear.
Then, from the strangely abnormal silence, she caught the sound of a musical chirp up the stairs. Aleta ascended to the next floor and followed the tune to an open room. Perched on a grubby daybed was the yellow canary. It tilted its head this way and that, twittering with each jovial bounce. She then spotted a birdcage atop a writing desk, which was decorated in bright yellow sunflowers.
Inside the cage was a wrinkled clipping from a newspaper. Aleta opened the hatch and took the tabloid out to read what was written upon it—
FAMED NEUROSURGEON DIES IN TRAGIC PLANE CRASH
June 14, 2007
At exactly 6:13 in the morning, police have found the crash site of the private jet belonging to renowned neurosurgeon, Estéban Volante. The doctor had been returning from an important conference in Florence, Italy regarding the possible cure to mental disorders through direct and meticulous electro-shocks in the brain. Viewed as a loving father, Estéban decided to cancel his final seminar in order to return home to his wife, who had recently given birth to his third child. He is also father to a daughter, age 16, and a son, age 10.
Police investigated the remains of the plane, saying that the engine had no defect whatsoever. The pilot, however, was allegedly dead minutes before the crash occurred. Estéban was still settled in his seat, apparently held in place by his seatbelt. Family and friends have begun to offer their condolences and support to the bereaved family. Autopsy reports will be released as soon as further analysis is concluded.
Aleta stared vacantly at the article in her hands. A feeling of dread came over her, as if something had burst inside her mind. She was unaware that the room had begun to shake, and yet the canary was still rooted to its perch. A long high-pitch sound faintly echoed in her ears, and she was driven to slowly glance over her shoulder—the hooded man stood there, wearing the unchanged cold glare.
"Estéban Volante," Aleta recited the name on the paper. "Was he…my father?"
The hooded man tilted his head up marginally. "Jimenez has done more damage than I expected," he said. "Tell me, what were the things he told you? What sort of pitiful story did he concoct in order for you to forget your real identity?"
Aleta backed away, although she glanced down at her feet and tried to come up with an answer. "He said I've always been like this. Ever since I was a child, I was sick with pediatric schizophrenia. My parents gave me away, because they didn't know what to do with me."
"And he was wrong. He lied to you, Aleta. He kept the truth hidden from you."
"Why?" Aleta said, voice rising a little. "Why would he do that? Doctor Jimenez promised that he would find a cure for me!"
"By expending your own father's ways and means," the hooded man interrupted. "And of my own, as well. Jimenez knew what would happen if you continued to hang onto those valuable emotions. So he simply followed a theory, and now he thinks it's a success."
Aleta blinked in bafflement. "What valuable memories? What are you talking about?! Just tell me who you are already!" she shouted. The disfigured man before her could only smirk at her infuriated expression.
"You'll figure it out soon," he told her. He steadily raised his hand to her, and her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw what was being presented—her locket. "But will you be able to handle everything after all of this?"
The windows suddenly burst open, sending a cold rush of wind into the room. The hooded man vanished like dust blown in the breeze, and the bird flew out of the drawing room. Aleta stood there, gasping for a breath and clenching the front of her dress. A sudden realization then arose from her—she couldn't conjure up any memories before Beacon Mental Hospital. Even if she was suffering from a mental illness, surely she could have elicited something that incited her of a life she once had. But there was none, and this thought terrified her incredibly.
"Aleta, can you hear me? Hey!" The young woman glanced up to see Sebastian hovering over her—she was crammed inside a cabinet of some sort that accommodated her small frame. "You definitely found a safe place to hide, kid." Sebastian commented.
Aleta could only purse her lips as she tried to hinder her tears. "You actually came back to find me." The disgruntled detective simply huffed in response, and went on to help the mental patient out of the dusty furniture.
"Come on, the gate is open. We should be able to go further into the village," Sebastian explained.
"What I don't understand is the need for such things when they could have lived as a community." Aleta said softly, walking behind the taller man and grasping at his shirt sleeve again.
There were very little monsters walking around now. She had to wonder how on earth Sebastian was able to do all of that with just a gun and his wits. Before they could get to the other side, however, she caught sight of Doctor Jimenez emerging from his own hiding spot in one farmhouse.
"Wait!" the doctor shouted. "Over here!" He jogged up to the pair whilst catching his breath. "Wait, uh, officer. You must take me with you!"
"Detective Castellanos," Sebastian sharply corrected him, though the man he had just reprimanded didn't seem to care.
"Leslie is just up ahead, it is imperative that we find him." Jimenez told him. As the trio was able to cross over, the gate suddenly came crashing down, permanently thwarting their chance of a way back. Aleta was frightened enough to release her hold on Sebastian, and grab a button of her shirtdress.
"Ah, the hospice; yes…Leslie was being treated here years ago. He'd come here thinking it was familiar and safe." At that statement, Aleta felt pity for the boy who had spent most of his life in some medical setting.
"You know where we are?" Sebastian interrogated.
"Just ahead is the hospice my brother runs. He'll take us in."
"That didn't answer my question." The detective grumbled. He looked back at Aleta to see if she was doing fine every now and then.
"I honestly don't know. For all I know I'm losing my mind, and you're just a delusion," said Jimenez.
Aleta raised her head worryingly at her doctor's remark, but Sebastian was quick to shoot her a glare that convincingly told her not to trust it. She nodded once, but was bewildered by the sudden change in outlook from the person she once depended on. They were soon approaching a tall, narrow house sealed off in a stone fence. A harsh current of air picked up debris from the gutter and threw it against the house. Her grip on Sebastian's sleeve tightened, and she had to stop in her tracks when she saw a familiar shadow moving across the window.
"No, please don't go there," she whispered to the detective in front of her.
"What do you mean, kid?" Sebastian replied roughly, but there was a hint of concern in his voice.
Doctor Jimenez paused as well. "Please excuse my patient; Miss Volante has some odd…afflictions of sorts that change from time to time. They will pass, eventually."
But Aleta was relentless. "Don't go in there, please. Don't go." Despite her struggle, Sebastian continued forward, trailing after Doctor Jimenez.
Upon entering the house, Sebastian asked her to wait for them. Aleta whimpered quietly when the older man carefully pried off her hand from his sleeve. She watched them head downstairs to meet with the doctor's brother. Yet, she could already pick up the scent of blood lingering everywhere. The house groaned and creaked against the howling gust outside. The heavy presence of that man was horribly close, and there was nothing that she could do about it.
For a second time, the musical chirp of the yellow canary drowned all of the frightening sounds. Aleta dutifully followed the song—this time, it was leading her outside. She saw the bright yellow creature gliding away from her, putting her in a trance-like state. In the distance, she heard a few rounds of gunshots and nothing more. The yellow canary continued to lead her straight into a path so narrow and congested; you would have trouble finding it in the dark.
The low-rising trees pricked and clawed at her, but she was determined to follow her cheerful guide. Passing the bushes, the silhouette of another house, different than those from the previous village, rose to view. Everything was obscure. The bird was quick to return to her, and it perched itself on top of her right shoulder. In seeking the door, Aleta inspected the residence warily. Then, from the panes of a very small latticed window, she could see a yellow glowing light coming from within.
When she came near and pushed aside a spray of foliage shooting over it, she could see someone reading by candlelight. It was a lady in a white, long-sleeved dress. Her long black hair had been brushed back, and held together by a red ribbon. Her dainty hands sensibly turned each page of the nameless book she had. An empty birdcage sat in the corner of the little room. Aleta felt her chest beginning to warm at the picturesque sight of domestic life and peaceful solitude.
Aleta had been so intent on watching the enigmatic lady, she had nearly forgotten about the others back in the village. But then, right when she was about to move, she heard something scuttle through the shrubs. Over yonder, behind the thickets, there was a large shadow prowling through, and the formidable growling echoed throughout the property. It was Mother. Aleta hurriedly ran for the door and grabbed at the handle. To her surprise, it opened easily. She entered, closing the door quietly so as not to alert the monster.
Nevertheless, the click of the lock sliding into place had caught Mother's attention, and the monster was swift to creep around the dwelling, sneaking a quick look through the windows with a bright silver eye. The young woman quickly hid under a table.
"Hiding, are we?" the droning monster spoke. "...Mother hates…this game…come out now sweetheart…" Mother gave an ear-piercing scream, which boomed into the night skies. And then there was silence. Aleta measured her breathing until she decided it was safe to come out of hiding.
She thought it was strange that the woman in the small room didn't come out to investigate the turmoil that had just occurred outside. The canary, likewise, was peculiarly calm and acquiescent—it snuggled against the side of her neck, happily sleeping away. Aleta then proceeded to the parlor, where the woman supposedly was. But she wasn't there anymore—only her book and the burning candle remained.
Curious as she was, she walked around the table to peer at the subject of the volume, and discovered that it was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. "My favorite story," she said to herself. Aleta turned the pages as if she was dealing with an artifact. She navigated to the very front of the lovely manuscript, and felt her blood run cold at the written message on the blank page—
To Aleta, a girl who believes that she is being punished for her deeds.
And yet, she should be commended for her bravery and pure steadfastness. You are not at fault, my winged one. And while you cast yourself into the dark, your heart remains pure and enlightened. I put my entire faith in this silly narrative, and may it give you the insight and closure you seek.
R. V.
At that moment, a large claw crashed through the window behind her, and Aleta let out a scream. The canary on her shoulder flew away, but it chirped loudly for her to follow it. The young woman held the book against her chest, and covered her face when more shards of sharp glass flew at her. She saw the bird hovering in front a red door, and she opened it to reveal a stairway that led to a dark basement. She hurriedly descended, two steps at a time, and saw a brief profile of Mother before the door closed in on her.
The underground room had a small number of things covered in canvas sheets. All except for one—a baby carriage with a broken ceramic doll tucked inside it. The canary took off once more and fluttered at the other end of the cellar. Aleta pushed aside the old belongings with one hand to reach her feathered friend.
It chirped thrice, and she heard a tune being played somewhere past the wall. She shoved a particularly massive canvas sheet to the side, uncovering an oil painting that resembled The Cornfield of John Constable. Aleta felt drawn to it, as if her body was willing to jump into the artwork itself.
Then, in a matter of minutes, she reached out to touch the precious masterpiece, and was engulfed in an extraordinary white light.
Author's Note:
I finally took the time to update this fanfic. Phew! I would also like to give my special thanks to NightlyRowenTree, nighten-gale1720, and GothicRose18 for their reviews! I'm happy that a lot of people are entertained by this, even though my method of writing makes no sense. I don't regret it tho.
English Literature struck me hard since I bought an entire set of Jane Austen books. I'm struggling with Mansfield Park, even today.
Story related, I nearly forgot that Aleta had her own Safe Room! But I couldn't figure out how she could transfer to that place, so I chose a way of crossing via paintings. Plus The Cornfield is nice to look at while you're having tea and Scottish pancakes! We should appreciate Traditional Art a little bit more these days.
On a more gloomier note, we finally have an inkling about Aleta's past: Her father was a famous doctor that was ready to change the world with his discoveries, but something bad happens to him in order to fuel the Angsty Backstory.
Also, a little head's up: both Aleta's re-telling of her past will somehow collide with Ruben's own version. Because it's Ruben, and he can do whatever he wants on a Friday Night. But one thing's for certain, the revelation isn't going to be all sunflowers and rainbows and guts.
(ALERT! After posting this chapter, I'm going to put up a poll at my profile. Please check it out if you want more fanfics out of me! Thanks!)
The Evil Within belongs to Shinji Mikami and Tango Gameworks! I only own Aleta Volante, her wardrobe, and her knack of staying calm in the worst scenarios ever.