The Man with Half a Face
Dead.
It is so absolute, so final. There is no question, no way to go. The word rings in my head without me understanding the meaning. Dead. Gone. She was the one who wanted to live! She sacrificed her entire life so she could continue to breathe, think, feel…And now she cannot anymore. All of her façade was in vain.
I cannot remember all of the conversation I had with Raoul on that horrible night.
"How?" I remember asking.
"…found last night…doctor…cardiac arrest…Christine, I…"
I can see him leaving the room, but, after that, I only see blackness. I cannot breathe, cannot think, cannot feel, and I am drowning in this…pain, this unbearable pain. Is this what it always feels like to lose someone close to you? And, if so, is it worth it to be close to someone if you must eventually feel empty and hurt?
For days I am stoic. I go where I am called. I eat. I drink. I sleep. But I cannot remember the last time I have spoken, or laughed, or thought. It is hard think that I am, once again, alone. I remember crying at the thought. To have the taste of human companionship and then have it taken away is cruel and unnecessary. A hatred burns in my heart for Philippe – but I cannot bring myself to hate Raoul. He seems sorry to see me like this. He speaks quietly with me and requests a recital one evening, but it does not last long.
Days go by. The gardens remain, but Clara will never walk in them. The wind is picking up. It blows fiercer every day, keeping me indoors. I look outside quietly and try to disappear.
"Christine?"
It is Raoul. I turn and acknowledge him before going back to the window. He comes to stand next to me. When his hand rests on my back, I jump in surprise, but, after that, neither of us move. We stand silently side by side, looking out of the window into the trees. They are whipped around by the harsh wind. It is howling in my ears.
The doors burst open, and we turn in unison. "Raoul!" says Philippe. "Come. We are away to the Capitol."
After pressing my shoulder lightly, Raoul disappears through the door, and Philippe snarls at me for a moment before following his younger brother. I remember Clara laughing at Philippe and his stupidity, and I smile.
The sun is sinking, pushed away by the wind, and I follow suit, moving toward my sleeping place. My pain has resided to a dull thud, making it possible to sleep, and I do so, exhausted by the insomnia from which I have suffered.
A baby cries, but I cannot find it. Its screams penetrate my brain, and I look desperately, weaving in and out through tall hedges while the dying sun shines brightly on me. I see Clara, but she does not speak and instead drifts away, and I begin to cry alongside the child, searching for –
A hand is on my shoulder, shaking me roughly, and my eyes snap open. I have not been asleep long. I can see the wax from the candle is still liquid and warm. Two men are above my bed, towering over me, and I open my mouth to scream. One of them, however, places his hand over my mouth, hissing,
"Silence! We've come to take you out of this place by order of your husband." When I sit stupidly for another minute, the other one takes my arm and literally pulls me out of the bed, saying, "Come, hurry up! This must be done quickly."
They will not let me change, but they do allow me to pull on a shawl. The men shoot down my questions and stand on either side of me before opening the door and leading me into the dark, quiet hallway. I am still having trouble rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and I stumble along.
"Where am I going?" I ask, looking at the one man on my right side, who has a clean-shaven, healthy-looking face, though his expression is grim. "Where are you taking me?" They remain silent. "Where has Raoul instructed that I go? And for what reason? Answer me!" It the first time that I have given a command like that, yet I expect them to answer. They do not.
We meet no one in the halls or rooms. With each step I am more awake, and my brain begins to work properly. I am struck by a horrible thought; I have not fulfilled my purpose. They have come to dispose of me. I am following Clara. Before I can struggle, the white-haired, pale man – Schurochka – steps out of the door on the left. For a very long time, no one speaks. The men simply stare at each other in apparent shock and surprise. Then –
"Intrusion! Traitors! Kidnap! Murder!" Schurochka screams with such volume I have never heard, and my stomach is plummeting. Before he can get another word out, however, a man rushes onto him, and I am not able to see what happened until Schurochka doubles over, his eyes wide. As the man draws away, I see blood pouring out of Schurochka's body. It is everywhere – so much of it, red, glistening, alive, and I stare as he falls to his knees, looking at the pool of it as if unable to believe it came from his chest. Then, with a light sigh, he falls to the ground, the blood growing around his body. I find my knees giving way and bile rising in my throat. These men will kill me, and red blood will gush from my body. I am quite unable to walk; they seize my arms and drag me to the courtyard, where a cool night wind blows. Something heavy and dark is thrown over my face. The only thing I can think of is the blood, and I imagine myself next to Schurochka. It does not seem to matter anymore where I am going. I will be dead wherever I go. Unceremoniously, they pick me up and place me on a horse. A man swings up behind me and holds me; I do not seem to be able to support myself.
As we ride, I can hear faint screams in the distance, coming from the house. The jostling of the horse keeps me from passing out, but I sorely want to. The streets are quiet as we pass, and the black night presses into me, into my red blood....I suddenly run my hands up and down my chest and abdomen, making sure that nothing is spilling from me. All my blood is still safely inside. Perhaps if I ask, they will kill me in a way that does not involve blood.
It does not take long to get to wherever we have gone. The horse lurches to a stop, and I nearly fall off. The other man hurries over and helps to pull me from the horse and drag me inside a clean-smelling building. They mutter hurriedly to each other before opening a door. Whatever is covering my face is taken away quickly. A burst of bright light washes over me, and I close my eyes against it. The light will illuminate my blood, whereas the dark will swallow it up. I am placed onto a comfortable chair, where I slouch over. Men are speaking quickly, sounding worried. Someone else enters, but I no longer care what they speak about or where I am. As long as it is done quickly, I will say nothing.
Someone approaches me and lifts my head. My eyes do not focus.
"Shock," says a voice, and I am left alone. "Bring something for her. He will need her to be conscious."
After a minute, my head is lifted again, and a glass is pressed to my lips. "Drink this, Christine," says a kind voice, and burning hot liquid is poured into my mouth. It scorches my throat, and I cough horribly. However, my vision is soon improving and my head clearing. I can see that I am in a comfortable-looking sitting room. Five or six men are grouped together, looking at me, and another is taking the glass back. I recognize no one except...Nadir Khan. Relief floods over me. I will not die. Raoul did order me to be sent away; something must have happened.
"Where am I?" I ask, my voice hoarse and weak.
"My home," says Khan. He looks kindly at me, but his gaze is mixed with worry.
"Why am I here? What has happened?"
Khan looks hesitant. "The…the Oligarchy has been overthrown, Christine. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes," I snap, irritated by his treatment of me. Everyone is silent for a very long time. "Is…is Raoul safe?" I finally ask. "Who has done this? Have they reached the Capitol?"
"Yes, they have reached the Capitol. The new government is in place."
"Is Raoul safe?" I demand quietly. The men look at each other, their faces blank. Quite suddenly, the door opens, and a new man walks in.
He is tall – much taller than anyone I have ever seen, and his frame is lean. His clothing is distinguished and fine, but rumpled, as if he has slept in them. Dark, thick hair shines brilliantly in the dim light, and he turns to look at Khan. I swallow a gasp. A white, cold-looking mask hides the right side of his face.
"Everything has gone according to plan?" he says. His voice is rich and…beautiful, but also commanding, and I know that he is not a man from whom demands cannot be made. All the men nod hurriedly, and his eyes slide over to me. The corner of his lip curls slightly (for his entire mouth is exposed).
"Good," he says. "I will be waiting downstairs."
As he turns to leave, Khan takes his shoulder, and the man with the mask turns and looks down at him. Khan speaks, but I know he wishes to keep his voice low.
"She – she doesn't know. She has no idea." I do not know what? I cannot stand one more minute of being kept in the dark. I cannot stand being ridiculed and treated like an animal. I hate having only one purpose and being unable to fulfill it. I feel tears swim in the corner of my eyes, but when the tall man's eyes come back to me, I blink the tears back, determined not to show him.
"Well, you must educate her," he says, and his eyebrow rises. "I will give you ten minutes, Khan. Please do not be late. You know how crucial this is."
He leaves, and Khan turns to the room. He dismisses the men with a wave of his hand and comes to sit next to me.
"Christine," he says, "do you know who that man is?"
I nod mutely, exhausted beyond measure and confused beyond belief. It is the Man with Half a Face…but what is he doing here in Khan's home? And where is Raoul?
"He is the man who has taken over the Oligarchy. But it cannot be complete, Christine, without one thing. To make his rule complete and unquestionable, he needs one more thing – you."
My eyes snap up instantly. "He – he needs to kill me?" I choke out.
Khan shakes his head. "No, Christine. He needs to marry you."