Chapter 3

Thank you for your fabulous reviews! I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can. :)

L

xxx

She couldn't do much to rid her own mind of the demons poisonous words, so Sarah O'Brien, as she watched Cora Crawley lay awake for the rest of the night, felt sick at the thought of what could possibly be going through Cora's mind. She herself felt tainted and dirty, like he'd reached into her own head and violated her, like she'd forever be picking shards of his heinous words from her own skin. So as she watched Cora Crawley toss and turn uncomfortably in her bed that night, she could do nothing to prevent the sudden grasp of fear that had curled around her chest. This beast, this monster which had taken refuge in Cora's head like a parasite, would slowly destroy Cora Crawley's mind, and so, destroy any chance of Sarah O'Brien moving on to heaven. It was hatred and sadness, it was grief, self-doubt, guilt. It fed on Cora's insecurities and her paranoia; it whispered in her ear from the shadows, pushing and pushing, hacking away at any clear rationality.

Even for an American, Cora Crawley had always been an emotional woman. Many a time Sarah would catch a tear falling from the tip of her nose and onto a book she'd spent the afternoon reading. She'd rant for hours while Sarah was dressing her about an article in the newspaper that had upset her. She often sat staring out of the window in silence, deep in a place Sarah daren't ever intrude upon. And so, her grief must have been like a feast for the demon, who not only clung on to it, but chewed it up and expelled it with an even greater strength than before. The battle for Cora's state of mind was upon her, and as Sarah O'Brien watched the Countess of Grantham twist again, she found herself clinging to a moment of complete defiance; Cora Crawley was under her protection, and no power, great or small, was going to break her. No creature, man or beast, was going to defeat her.

Sarah clung tightly to her readiness to fight as she watched Baxter enter the next morning with the usual tray of food and newspapers. One would have to be completely blind to not notice Cora's wilted manner. The Countess didn't touch the orange juice Baxter had provided, nor a single piece of food, and when she sat at her dressing table to be prepared for the day, her eyes were downcast. Sarah could see the concern brewing on Baxter's face as she gently brushed Cora's long hair. Please ask her... She needs to talk to somebody. There was another moment of silence, but the words soon slipped from Baxter's lips, much to Sarah's relief.

"Are... are you alright, m'lady?" she asked quietly, glancing nervously through the mirror at her mistress. Sarah moved beside the dressing table to better observe the two women interacting. Cora hesitated for a moment – she's debating whether to be truthful or polite... she'll go with truthful this time because she's upset – before sighing gently. She played nervously with a piece of her gown before glancing up to meet Baxter's eye in the reflection of the mirror.

"I didn't sleep too well last night," she mumbled, the fidgeting of the gown becoming a little more forceful.

"Is there something I can do, m'lady?"

"I'm afraid not... thank you though, Baxter." Cora paused again, and Sarah could see that Baxter wanted to push the conversation a little deeper. Stay quiet... she'll start talking in a moment because she doesn't like the silence. Baxter offered a small smile through the mirror, and Sarah wondered whether this woman was yet able to read Cora. It had taken her a few weeks to become familiar with the Americans ways, but after years of service, she had become adapt at knowing almost what the Countess was thinking. She knew when she needed a smile or a gentle squeeze of the shoulder, she knew when she wanted to talk or when she wanted to simply sit and muse to herself, she knew when she wanted to read or paint, she knew when she wanted to dress up or rest. She could read Cora like she would her favourite childhood book... god, I miss her.

"I had an awful nightmare last night... " she started. "It was about Miss O'Brien."

"Miss O'Brien?" Baxter watched Cora nod gently through the mirror.

"It as quite awful... We were quite close, you know. She could be a little prickly, I'm sure half the staff downstairs were rather afraid of her!" Cora laughed gently, continuing to play with the material of her gown. Baxter seemed to have realised that she was there to listen while Cora drifted off into her memories, and so offered no more than a polite smile through the reflection again. This one learns quickly...

"I was a little afraid of her myself when I first employed her... She was always so cold and stern, I fought to pull more than two words from her at one point. But we become close, friends even. I was rather confused when she left." A tiny frown creased Cora's brow. "I suppose I'll never find out now." Her voice had become dangerously weak and tiny, and Sarah instinctively moved a hand to Cora's shoulder.

"Don't worry, m'lady... I promise, I'll explain it all to you."

Sarah's new found courage in her mission to protect Cora was put to the test that night, and the night after, and the night after that. Every evening was the same; Sarah would delve into Cora's mind and find herself on the floor of the cabin, surrounded by corpses and a crying, hysterical Countess. The demon would whisper in her ear, planting venomous words inside her head, and Sarah would beg and beg for Cora to listen to her. Her attempts were a little less futile than the first night, but the sight of Sarah's mangled body seemed to send Cora into a dark downwards spiral which she was unable to climb out of. Every morning she would wake with bigger rings around her eyes, less effort in her smiles. She would sit in silence while Baxter tended to her, and no matter how many attempts the lady's maid would make to spark some sort of conversation, no words would escape her pale lips. Sarah would watch in sheer helplessness, the demons words from their first encounter ripping through her mind.

"I'll put ten shillings on her slitting her wrists before the week is out."

Was her guilt strong enough to see her do something like that? How was she supposed to stop Cora doing something stupid if she could only speak to her in her dreams? And even in her dreams, she was inconsolable. She would cry and cry, holding tightly onto one of the many dead Sarah's the demon would concoct. Would she be damned to stand by and watch as Cora ended her own life? I would already be in hell...

And so, when Cora Crawley left her bed one night after hours of lying still in the darkness, Sarah was on her feet straight away. She followed the Countess downstairs were she swiftly grabbed two bottles of Mr Carson's finest scotch, and as if she were a ghost herself, slipped back into her room. She poured and poured, drank and drank, and Sarah could do nothing but sit and watch in distress. She could see the shadow of Susan Flintshire leering over Cora, and with every sip she become bigger and bigger. Would Cora develop a 'sickness of the mind' as Susan had? Would she become a messy and wild drunk staggering around her bedroom with a glass in her hand, muttering under her breath? Perhaps one evening Baxter would come and Cora would send some sort of object crashing into her skull? No, no! Cora is not Susan Flintshire. She'd managed to drink almost a full bottle of scotch, and Sarah knew it was pretty strong stuff. Cora had never been too steady with her drink; she'd sip her wine at dinner time, but never finish it. On the very few occasions she had been at a party or had guests over, she'd staggered up to her room singing songs Sarah had never heard before and collapsed into bed before Sarah could undress her properly. Having grown up with an alcoholic father, Sarah was no stranger to nursing hangovers, and gosh, did the Countess suffer with her hangovers. So when Sarah glanced at the almost empty bottle on the dresser, she couldn't help thw pang of fear in her chest.

"Please, stop..."

The Countess staggered across the room and went into the bathroom. She drunkenly started to fill the bath, and, with her glass still in her hand, clambered in.

"What are you doing? Get out!"

Sarah's panic rose as fast as the water surrounded the fully clothed Countess, who slipped down the bath so the water reached her chin. Her hand hung over the edge, grasping the glass of scotch loosely.

"Open your eyes!"

The water continued to rise, and Cora's eyes remained closed against the steam of the water. Sarah grasped her own head desperately trying to think of a way to stop Cora from dropping beneath the water. It took only seconds for the water to reach Cora's nose, and the Countess slipped down the bath again. The glass was released from her grip and shattered all over the floor, and Sarah ran to the side of the bath.

"GET UP, GET UP! MICHAEL! MICHAEL, STOP HER!" Her voice seemed to echo from the tiled bathroom walls, but Michael did not appear. The panic in Sarah's throat tightened, and she felt her brain fog. She opened her mouth a let loose an ear piercing scream – it seemed like the only thing she could do. Her state of utter panic prevented her brain from thinking logically, and she screamed again and again, dropping to her knees beside the bath. Cora was completely submerged now, her eyes were closed and there were tiny bubbles of air escaping her nose. Apart from the fact she was under water, she looked almost asleep-

Sarah froze as she lowered her face to the surface of the water. She could see her own terrified expression in the reflection. If Cora was asleep, then surely... She gasped in desperation and plunged a hand into the water to rest above Cora's head.

"Come on... please..."

For moment, Sarah didn't move. She closed her eyes, and when she looked around, she was still in the bathroom. The scene had changed though – this bathroom was darker, hotter, the steam was as thick as London fog, and she could hear water being splashed around.

"Cora?"

She ran into the fog, straining her ears for the splashing water. As she come closer though, she realised that it wasn't the only noise she could hear. There was gurgling, growling - noises that set Sarah's whole body alight with complete rage, and as she approached the noise, her rage took control of her. He - it - the demon, was crouched over the bath, his hands submerged in the water. She could see limbs flailing about, scrambling and scratching at his face desperately as the water splashed all over the place. The growling was coming from him, and Sarah could see a satisfied smirk on his repulsive face. The gurgling was was coming from the person he was holding under the surface, the person he was slowly drowning. Without another single thought, Sarah bolted towards them. She had never before felt rage like this – even when she watched Susan Flintshire murder her in her sleep – never had she felt so physically strong and determined. She knew she could rip the jugular from his throat with her bare hands if she tried. It pulsated through her entire body, and with each step she took towards them, it grew until when she finally reached them, she was able to wrap her arms around his neck from behind and pull him from the bath. She clawed at his face and hung on for dear life as the beast began to spin around, and she felt such a massive amount of satisfaction when she felt her nails pierce the skin on his cheeks. She was a lioness right now, hunting and tackling her opponent on the African savannah. The animal instinct inside of her spurred her to go on and on. She clawed at his flesh with such force that she felt as though she could roar her ferocity in his face and blow him away into the wind. He finally dropped to his knees in agony, clutching his shredded skin. Cora... She daren't give him the slightest chance to attack her from behind, so she threw him to the side with a last hiss, and, satisfied with the collapsing of his body, she turned and sprinted back to the bath where Cora was leant over the side gasping for air. Sarah plunged her arms in, and gently lifted Cora from the water. The Countess was trembling, and for the first time, she dropped willingly into Sarah's hold. Sarah quickly grasped her face and brought up her head so both pairs of eyes met.

"Don't you ever do something so stupid ever again, do you hear me? Do you?"

Cora nodded frantically, fighting the sob that was about to burst from her lips.

"W-why did you leave me?" she mumbled into Sarah's shoulder as she collapsed back into her hold. Sarah held her tightly, glancing back at the beast on the floor, which was slowly getting to its feet.

"I promise you I'll explain myself... I promise. Right now you need to wake up, though."

"What?"

She held the Countess at arms length, trying desperately to convey the urgency in her words.

"You need to wake up!"

There was a sudden darkness, and Sarah felt herself flying across the bathroom floor. She lifted her head to see Cora sat up in the bath, coughing and spluttering, gasping desperately for breath. She half crawled to the side of the bath, rolling over onto her back in utter exhaustion. She had almost allowed grief and guilt to hold Cora beneath the surface of that water tonight. She had almost allowed Cora to drown in her own darkness, her own misery. If it is to be the last thing I ever do, I am going to destroy you and free her of your power. I promise you.