Darkness

She is panicked, hiding in the deep recesses of the corner, yet the broom keeps lashing out. Smack. There is the hard thud of a bruise being formed and the sting of its whiskers as it rakes down the back of her thighs. Again.

"Come here you little runt, you little coward," the shrill voice of her tormentor shrieks. "Face me!"

The broom stops as her blond baby hair is grasped and practically pulled out of her head as she is forced up and into a standing position.

A large hand swoops towards her face.

Smack.

Stars and dizziness.

"Don't you swoon on me, girl," the voice demands. Sharp fingernails pierce into her right ear and she squeals in pain. "You're coming with me."

"No! No, no," she begs and tears roll down her face in earnest, knowing where she is being taken. "Please no. I'll do anything!"

"That's right, you'll do anything. You'll do as I say, you unruly little girl." She is dragged down the hallway by her ear.

The maw of the closet door swings open before her and she is horrified. She can't see what is in there, what horrors lie in wait for her. The unknowing is her undoing.

"No, please," she begs once again, weakly.

"Into the closet with you," her tormentor declares and with a swift kick to her rear she finds herself tumbling inside of it.

The door slams shut before she stops rolling. She gets up and runs to it, bangs on it. The absolute darkness is behind her. What is in there? She doesn't want to know. She bangs harder, she cries, begs, and pleads to be let back into the light.

Her cries go unanswered. For hours.

He stands out on the porch awaiting the doctor's carriage, pacing. He knows the doc needs to tend to many victims of Yellow Jack tonight, but his Mandy . . . his Mandy really needs him.

Finally, he hears the hooves and wheels of a carriage clomping and grinding against small stones in the drive. The doc is too far out in the darkness to see just yet, but he's coming. Hope is coming.

The doctor is ushered upstairs after the briefest of pleasantries are exchanged.

"Husband, can you light a candle? Another candle?"

"Of course, darling," he says and gets busy setting another one to light as the doctor tends to his wife, examines her.

"Awful lot of candles in here," the doc remarks.

"She needs them," he responds firmly, defensively, and the subject is dropped.

"I can't see," Mandy says to the doc almost in panic. Her limp blonde hair is messy – she's been in bed for days - yet she still manages to find a cohesive strand to tuck behind one ear. It's a nervous habit of hers. "It's so dark. Not like before at night. Darker. And there never seems to be enough light. Not even during the day."

The doctor nods and begins a series of tests. Later, he leads him outside to give him the bad news about his wife.

"Sometimes when Yellow Jack brings the brain fever, delirium isn't the only consequence. That passes. And Mandy's through that. But sometimes it leaves one blind. It takes some time for it to progress, but -"

"What? She can't go blind." He runs his fingers agitatedly through his hair and then yells at the doctor. "You don't understand! That's the worst thing that could ever happen to her!"

"Not the worst."

What? He knows that the doctor would consider death a fate worse than blindness - even though for Mandy that just wouldn't be the case . . . So then . . . Does that mean she's dying? That his wife is dying?

Looking into the doctor's eyes he doesn't see any certainty that she isn't.

"She's not passing enough water. That's not a good sign," the doctor says.

His heart sinks.