Year Unknown: Chapter 3 has prepared you for this.
December, 1887 - Boston, Massachusetts
"Helena- Helena Andrea White, how dare you allow the pet mouse of a man to deflower you like this!" It was the curly-haired young woman's own mother to give her the unholy scolding from start to finish, and no such punches were being pulled. Helena White had eloped with a man in a majestic illusion, dare I say delusion, of grand love and seismic sexual lust in between her and her partner, the grand, handsome and suave Sir George Armstrong who hailed from a family of travelers. They had that amazing sex under the roof of what he called a house- A little shack in the outskirts of town, quiet and lonely for her taste- and just right for her and for the handsome man.
Helena was a girl born of an interracial couple, being a medium tan-skinned girl with a curly hairstyle of dark ruby-red, and of course, she was a little plump as well, and George loved ger anyway. Well, he did so, said so until Helena had come out with the pregnancy news. You'd quickly piece together how the story went. He ran off, she was left in the pool of her own tears, and Momma White had all the reason to berate her only daughter to engage in the sinful dance, and it was premarital sex, the most hate thing Momma had to accept from here on out. Soiled the name of White did Helena, disgrace it, muddy it up to astonishing, destructive ways thought unimaginable.
"I can't begin to comprehend the magnitude..." Victoria White, the strict, vulgar woman of a mother, did not accept this, but to disown her daughter and future granddaughter- Well, how would that make her look? Even when she wanted to keep her, there would be judgment galloping around from all neighbors, right down to the townsfolk. No, not unless drastic measures were taken. "I can't have you outside while it shows, you hear me?"
Helena interpreted it correctly, understanding that her mother would implement house arrest the second she looked like she was pregnant. It had just started, so maybe in the timespan of two or three months from now, freedom would be revoked. And revoked to try and preserve as much of the image of the White family to the outside world. But now- No, since that day she laid nude underneath her man, Helena cursed the bloodline. Helena cursed it, through the eyes of the superstitious Victoria, and damned be that baby when it came out to become a part of the old society. "Yes, mother."
Act IV: Bloodier, Chapter VI: The Story Of Heather White
September, 1888
She had to give birth on her own bed, and it wasn't pretty to begin with. The good doctor Victoria White had brought in to help in the birthing process had been paid double to keep silence about the kid, had to be done. Young Helena had now been able to rest, to relax her body after she strained and put all her energy in pumping the baby out. The baby, a healthy girl held in the arms of grandmother Victoris. "Mother? Mother, is my baby-?"
"It's a girl," Victoria smiled. "She's beautiful."
"My baby! Can I see my baby?"
Victoria, however, had a different idea. Rather than fulfilling her daughter's wish, she brushed it away. "Honey, why don't you get some sleep? You just gave birth after all."
Helena considered it, but truthfully had slight concern for mother's plans with the child that she very well knew she didn't want around this time. Even so, no way was Victoria White some sort of baby-killing maniac. "Okay... Please watch her, mother. Please watch my daughter."
"Yes, dear, just please-" Victoria carried away the child from the room. "Nap, dear."
"Yes, mother..." Helena shut her eyes, drifting away to a good sleep after Victoria shut the door with her feet, footsteps fading out. "Goodnight, mother... Goodnight... Magdela White."
October, 1895
Six-year-old Magdela White, who usually went by Maggie, took more after her father than Helena, and it showed- And to be frank, it surely enraged and humiliated Victoria in the long run. That elder woman, a blonde, aging hag with the bad traits and qualities of a person, hated what young Maggie resembled, reminded her of. That one bastard who had his way with her passed down his notable, physical traits. For instance, Maggie had his pale skin, and long, dark hair not like Helena's. It was as if she was born to be a reminder that Helena was no longer a pure goddess, a spawn of Satan, damned to be a White. And it was just like Victoria had believed initially; the White bloodline was tainted with this child, this hellspawn with a common girl's name, in the form of a little girl. Not a little girl through grandma's eyes. Just a curse.
Just a curse.
Maggie, whether or not a true devil, didn't act like one. She was in the living room of the small residence of the White abode, playing around with a soft doll with button eyes and a smile sewn into the face. One of those redhead dollies as soft as a pillow, but lifeless at that. She loved and treasured it like any other little girl, content around it. Her mother had been out fetching the groceries, leaving little Maggie alone with grandma Vicky, the secretly resentful woman who wished a tragedy upon this plaque.
She did nothing but keep an eye on her, formulating some sort of how-awful, maniacal idea on how to lure Maggie to harm that looked like it was of her own carelessness, not on the mother's lap. Poisoning, maybe loose flooboards, maybe something so unbelievably horrendous, some natural event. Victoria could see it now, the house catching fire, and little Maggie, the pale hellspawn dying in there while she played an act to the witnesses. Helena should have never opened her legs, that sinner.
All these tolerating her- just how could she end up like in the later years? Those juvenile years of impulse, curiosity and lustful wonder? That Maggie would likely have big breasts, an immoral taste for all men, and maybe something even worse that what Helena had become in her eyes. It truly disgusted her, ruining the sanctity of the family tree.
Maggie herself was oblivious to it all, mother was the loving brand she waa glad to have, but the vibes from grandma were of a different variety, more darker for her taste, and she did not want it. She didn't want to associate too much with grandma Vicky for that, but even still, the witch was family. She was meant to love grandma- and yet she just didn't.
Then, there were times where she wondered where daddy was, and why he never showed up. That was a bridge that Helena didn't want to cross with Maggie right away, but the day would come when she'd understand. Until then, Helena played both roles... Aa much as she could.
Victoria had been reading a book, laying on the couch when Maggie had gotten up and strutted towards the kitchen, thirsty for water. Her eyes followed the child, peeling away from the book. Maggie had her back turned to her the whole way, making it easier for Victoria to get away with it. Disgusting creature, wearing the skin of the baatard who dares take my sunflower's virginity.
"Ahhh..." Maggie set down the cup into the sink, running back to play with the doll, and naturally, she felt over before exiting the kitchen, knees and elbows smacking right against the hardwood floor. For a second, she stayed silent, and then the pain kicked in, spiking up right on all four of her joints. She cried out, sobbing out for her grandma when she got up, and ran over to her to have the boo-boos get the remedy from the properties of Victoria's kisses. Only-
"You'll be fine, just-" Vicky didn't know where the bandages were. "Dang it, child, don't run in the house!"
Maggie only kept crying, now showing Victoria a gaping scrape wound on her right elbow. "I-it hurts!"
"It's just a rough cut, my dear girl!" Victoria scolded. "Go use some napkins or towels to patch yourself up!" She helped Maggie up, directing her to the bathroom. "Up you go."
Maggie had to do it herself while the eyes of the only adult around were stuck on her, fixated and judging her all the same. "Grandma-"
"You'll be okay, Magdela." She was sure of it, doing her best to soothe Maggie from her pain, because, well, her girly cries were too much and enough for her to lose her temper then and there, any second and that bubble would burst open. "Please-"
"When's mom coming?" Maggie placed a tiny cloth to her scraped wound, hissing with pain when it connected.
"She won't be long, child," Victoria hissed, seeing that Maggie seemed to be handling it well, then leaving to get away from her.
And Maggie only looked on, feeling the sudden vibes from her, of which she sensed a sort of hate and disgust of the wee granddaughter for some reason. She didn't know if it was some sort of true antagonism or just a misinterpretation of things- Not like Maggie had done something to set her off once. Not yet at least. Maybe she was wrong, if anything. Maybe grandma Vicky just had that tell to her, always had.
Later
Not long after the sun retreated to the other side of the world, grandma Vicky took her leave and went into her room for the night. The second she locked her door, she was dug, buried into her room like it were a deep ravine. The tiny house was quiet at the time, the three female inhabitants having already eaten their nightly supper for the night. Maggie was full with one bowl of vegetable soup and a serving of hot cocoa, sitting on her mother's lap, being read some picture books.
"And then, the young boy plucked some nice flowers before he went to see the girl, his friend-"
Maggie let out girlish giggles, mentally making a joke that the fictional boy fancied the girl in the story.
"And he knocked right on the door." Helena continued, stroking a hand through little Maggie's black hair. "And do you know what he saw?"
Maggie turned the next page, again laughing when she laid her tiny eyes on it. The drawing underneath the text depicted a girl of long, black hair in a black dress and a red scarf around her neck. "Sweet Heather Eleanor Hudson awaits her best friend Carlyle!" Maggie read with great enthusiasm. "They're just so cute, mommy. They look happy."
"Which makes this a pleasantly wholesome read, my love," Helena warmly formed out, kissing Maggie's cheek. "In there and out here, Maggie. Guess what?"
"What, mother?" Maggie looked up at Helena, face expression depicting a healthy, childish wonder. Her mouth had gone agape, in the form of an 'O'.
"It's time to sleep, my love," Helena smothered away, moving the book out of her lap, followed by the young girl. "Come on, up you go."
"Aww-" Maggie squealed. "Can't I please solemnly have-?"
"I'm sorry, Maggie, but rules are rules-" Helena linked her hands with Maggie's, raising them up to control her daughter like a ventriloquist puppet, then leading them both into the room. "A good night's sleep means a healthy day when the dawn arrives, honey."
"Yes, mother-" Maggie then jerked to a stop and turned back to the living room. "My dolly!"
Helena followed Maggie's eyes and let go of her hands to fetch the soft doll of red hair. "Yes, of course, dear."
"Oh, how I love my friend!" Maggie cheered, hugging the doll tightly, rushing rapidly to her bed. "Tuck us in, mother! I love it when you do!"
Helena nodded, advancing over girl and doll. She arranged the covers well over Maggie, ensuring they were perfect for her added comfort. Then, she planted a kiss on Maggie's forehead and blew out the candle on her nightstand. "Okay, sweetheart, you have a goodnight now. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, mommy," Maggie wearily said. "I love you."
"I love you, too, my little Magdela." Helena grinned with pride once more as she shut the door to the young girl's room before she took for the night. The White abode had gotten more silent now, more isolated and deadened.
"That thing asleep now?" Victoria had peeked her straining face right out through the door. "She's a cancer to us all, least you could do-"
"What- Mother, you speak nothing but immoral blasphemy!" Helena scolded. "My daughter is just a little girl with her whole life ahead of her-"
"A girl with no father makes for troubled youth!" Victoria wasn't afraid to be blunt with her daughter. "I can see why you think this is okay! It's you who lacked a father figure and in that, the right punishment, the right lessons-"
"Mother-" Helena began to stutter. "I didn't let it happen again-"
"And it should not have happened to begin with!" Victoria opened the door and went right up into Helena's face. "If he hadn't died on the both of us, child-" She pointed to Maggie's room. "To hell with you and that devious creature you call your daughter! That monster does not take after me, nor does it take after your father! No, not even you! How can you dare raise the child of the man who impregnated and abandoned the both of you?!"
"Mother..." Helena developed bloodshot eyes from the emotional scars Victoria re-opened. "I'm- I've been trying-"
"No, you have not!" Victoria's rancid breath entered deep past Helena's nostrils. "You failed us all that one miserable night, and I will be holding you to that until one of us dies."
"I..." Helena was left rather breathless, feeling ashamed as she was the night she broke the news out. "I did everything to atone it, mother-"
"And yet, the curse-" Victoria stepped back. "The curse is permanent."
"Not a curse-" Helena refused to think so little of her daughter, rejected the idea of degrading her. "No, no, she is my baby, my one and only child, and I love her just the same! If you can't accept that-"
"Then what? Hmmm?" Victoria re-entered her room, moving backwards. "Marry into a good man's family soon, you hear me?! That insect cannot be raised properly if she lacks both parental figures..."
And the next words that came out of Victoria's mouth broke the camel's back of Helena.
"Just look at how you turned out..." Victoria slammed the door in between her and the curly-haired daughter, this being the final talk before the night had begun. And Helena, letting tears fall to the floor with an hurtful, unpleasantly empty feeling in her
Just... Look at how I turned out...? Next thing she knew, Helena stayed in the bathroom after minutes have passed. She started at herself, the soul, the figure looking back at her in the mirror. This was the face of the sinful creature whom Victoria White dared blame for the birth of that child when she could not just blame the man who planted his seed. And maybe she was right to do so, for this life was hard, and Helena had already been helping her mother out throughout the years, now they had the third live-in to worry about. Was it that Victoria had deemed Maggie am undesirable simply because of the attention that was so obviously divided? Was there any sense in that? Or was it like Victoria had always been telling Helena? The same beat and rhythm that Maggie, the product of premarital sex, had started a cycle of bad luck, the true curse she sang out constantly?
But whatever one reason it was, whatever the reason of her anger was, Helena could come to agree with herself that it wouldn't stop. It hasn't, it didn't, and it would have never stopped-
She had her hands around a pair of scissors, extending them and hovering both blades over her right wrist. Simple as that, she'd jam them in and run them down her arm, and then to the other one. It'd be painful, it'd make her squirm and hiss in horrid agony, and even worse, it would leave Magdela alone with that brute bitch Victoria. Maggie could be vulnerable to attack, was there really a limit to the grandma's pettiness? What the hell- Oh, my God, I- I can't- B-but I want it to stop- I want it to stop. My Maggie-
She pulled the scissors away.
No, I can't do that- I can't do that to my Maggie- My sweet angelface.
In this moment of broken weakness, Helena accepted that she was shattered from within, hurt and in anger from the heartless words so spoken by her mother, the cruelest woman ever to have the audacity to let alone breathe. And she had not only failed herself but that sweet girl of white skin, you know, the one who had no idea about the lives before her, nothing at all. Who he was, why grandma had that semi-subtle hate-boner for her, and that strange atmosphere around them. Also... Maggie rarely left the house, and when she did, it had only been at times when Victoria was hitting the hay.
Magdela- Mag, I'm so sorry, I can't believe it's this bad for me- Helena put down the scissors back onto the sink, trying to steady her heartbeat. I failed you... I failed you for considering it alone- Damn it... Cursed... I feel-
November, 1895
One late night, during mid-November, a thirsty Maggie wandered out of her room, barefoot. She moved into the kitchen for a fresh glass of cool water. She sipped into three gulps, and went on her merry way- but the detour of grandma's room had driven her to take a peek inside when it was ajar see a candle's light emitting from within. It wasn't what she saw inside, but the very thing that she heard that added to more mystery. The sound of flesh being smacked on by some object- No. Not smacked on, but in reality, being stabbed.
It was Helena Andrea White, mind mentally deteriorated by the end of the era of Victoria's darkness, jamming a kitchen knife in and out with a beastly lust in her eyes, the animalistic gleaming of insanity. Helena, murdering her mother in such a vicious way possible, it could not have been any other, a sight set and dated to traumatize and scar little Magdela White enough to become a vegetable. "M-mom- Grandma!"
And it was a big mistake on Helen's part when she saw the innocent Maggie laying witness to the death of one Victoria White. And just like that, just like Victoria had so claimed like a paranoid, irrational person, the bloodline had been paved a way to generations of damnation. "Hon- Dear Lord Almighty-" Helena was caught with her pants down, and no idea on how to fix it. There wasn't any way to, and the perfect image of herself through her next of kin- Well, that was ruined forever. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..."
Maggie went ominously silent, turning into the corner, sitting down in the crisscross position, arms wrapped around her knees, humming like nothing had happened.
A curse. Just a curse.
Maggie... Maggie...! MAGDELA!
June, 1906 - San Francisco, California
"Magdela?" Norman Harrison was on one side of the queen-sized bed, closer to the doorway while Magdela White had purposely chosen, as there was a fire escape just outside to get her out fast when just two months ago, a disastrous earthquake ravaged the peaceful streets of San Francisco, causing an unprecedented and significant amount of property damage and loss of life. Magdela had come in after it had occurred and gotten a house with a property value that had dominated, ergo a good deal. For the most part. A two-floor house in the hills, six streets up from ground level, but as long as the market locations were down there, close by, no harm done, really.
Maggie had it easy, mostly, except when she looked back and kept envisioning that strip of life she shared with those two others, the key figures she'd come to know as mother and grandma. Mother, the murderer of her own mother, and it happened all those years ago, but the grisly images still lingered on. Helena White, a damaged soul had brought upon the very reason Maggie was who she was, and how she was today. That kitchen knife that changed her life- No.
Their lives.
Right now, the young Maggie had endured yet another nightmare of the same vibe and tone, sweating and crying in her sleep, stricken and dismayed by the memories that dared to haunt and trigger her right into the corner. Grandmother gone, mother institutionalized under order of the court, and a childhood of foster parenting from then on. Just that, just stripped away from the happiness she'd see in those damn kid's books- and believed them to have been a lie when she remembered them. They were that, and they weren't just that. Only, Maggie wished it wasn't how it happened. Not the stomach-churning sickening, not the explicit, bloody images of Helena committing the atrocious of sins, or hell, not even throwing her life away like that, like she did that one calm night. "Curses..."
"Magsy, did you have another one?" Norman Harrison had a heart when it counted, at least that's what she saw, wanted to believe. He was as tall as her, just one year older, but no one could tell the difference per se. He had three jobs in total; paperboy by morning, store employee at the afternoon, and for half of the rest of the evening, he had gone to help the local orphanage, Rennis Orphanage, take care of those young children who were made orphans from the earthquake. No shortage of volunteers could ever be enough. He was kind like that, a selfless trait that she found attractive in him, which was how they had ended up together.
Not that Maggie realized it, but she grew up to be an easier woman than she knew herself to be around Norman. She laid there under two covers, but then tugged them off of her lower body, turning away from the windows. "Norm, did I wake you?"
"I've been up for a bit," Norman lied rather calmly, body leaning closer to his sweet Magsy. "Don't you worry a thing, I'll be awake for you if you can't-"
"Oh, no, darling," Maggie shook, "go back to sleep, you've got work in the morning."
"Magsy-" But his girlfriend would not have it, thinking more of him than of herself, pressing a finger to his lips.
"No buts, Norm, if you can get more shut-eye, do so-" Maggie embraced herself right on her lover's welcoming arms. "I'll try to get some, too... It helps when you're here, Norm. It really does."
"I'm glad, my Magsy," Norman smirked, rubbing his hands on her back. "Good night."
"Nighty night, sweetie."
Morning
Norman had dressed up, tidied himself well and kissed his lover goodbye before he took off again to have a workaholic day just like yesterday and the day before that. It left Maggie alone to tend to the house. Clean, sweep and do all the chores to make it spotless for when he came back. Normally, she'd go out with her friends in the afternoon, but today she wasn't feeling it whatsoever. She chose to close herself off to the world, to watch it go on without her just this once, right through the comfort of her home and through its clear windows. "What's this evening's special?"
"Stew, my darling," Maggie let him know as he went on his merry way. And that was it, that was another day of the repetitive cycle. He'd be gone and come back to her open, welcoming arms. Strangely enough, Maggie wanted more in their relationship- If there was anything else worth leeching out of the connection they shared, then...
Maggie remained in bed, lying naked and staring at the ceiling. That feeling of morbid emptiness was too sharply painful, and this- The way she lived, it was mentally slowing her down. What did she want? How could she add to it?
Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander out from the chains of reality, going anywhere, really. First stop was her kid self, being tucked in by her curly-haired mother. There was that smile on Helena's face that depicted pleasant happiness, a ray of sunshine illuminating onto Maggie. Her kiss, the warm, motherly embrace of her heartfelt love, and that one book she used to read to her. Actually, it was a book series centering on a young girl in a black dress and a red scarf. What was her name, what title was the book series?
For the life of her, Maggie could never recall it, meanwhile every other insignificant detail was there. She only thought of the damn book and then wondered if there was more meaning behind trying to gain recollection on it. You see, the way it worked for her is that she had no closure of all the past madness that had up and left as fast as it came- Maggie lived only within its large scars left behind, and maybe the right closure was through one of these books. One of these books, so that she could finally accept it and close that specific chapter of her life. It made sense, did it not? Only problem was, to find a book she did not remember, in a big city, well, that was an impossible feat in itself, what chance did she have to find one?
Silly of her to think of all this now. Silly and just plain...
Real.
What had she been doing, what was her goal? To settle down and marry for it to be the end? In all families, there were one or two kids, maybw up to three or more. Maybe Maggie could see herself settling down, and maybe she'd have a happy and peaceful life (not really) with he whom she would devote her life to. Kids... Were they out of the question? Would Norman want to stay with Maggie long enough to tie the knot, or could Maggie somehow entrap him into marriage after she ensured he get pregnant by his hand? That one, that one would be awful, she knew well to say that.
On the other hand, suppose Maggie became pregnant; what then? What was the life post-pregnancy looking to be like? She knew no such advice in such matters other than what was tossed around secondhand from the friends and neighbors- you know, the ones who already had kids, the experienced bunch who raised them.
A kid of her own wouldn't have been the worst thing, so why was she wondering about it now? Actually, how did she get here from the book? How did...
Were they those of things that she wanted?
Probably.
Maggie brushed the hair out of her face, finally having the energy to sit upright.
My own baby, and the books I could read it. Those same ones- Pause. She sighed, eyes centering down in the floor beneath her bare feet. I won't live forever...
And there it was, a silly decision that should have already been before. The fact that she hadn't before, what did it mean for her? The only thing to be concerned of right now was what Norman had thought of it. All of it.
Evening
He ate, swallowing spoonful after spoonful of the special stew Maggie had made for them, but the handsome devil that was Norman was the only one eating, while Maggie had not even touched her spoon, filled by fear and nervousness altogether right in front of him. He didn't notice, or he didn't care, Maggie didn't know which one it could have been, but Norman was being painfully oblivious to her lack of consumption. She took a deep enough breath and laid it all out on the table to get it over with. "I want a baby!"
It totally took his eyes off the china bowl, if anything, making him let go of the spoon and freeze in place, the hot stew still trapped in his mouth. She expected it to be bad, but what was a possibility did not come to. Instead, Maggie went to town.
She got naked, lying down on her bed as he followed along, coming up to bat. He mounted her, taking his manhood into her womanhood to initiate the baby-making process. It wasn't how she expected it to go but she'd soon have what she figured she wanted. Child, raising a family, and with Norman. Her guess now was that they were set to marry, sometime this year or, well, as soon as possible. She'd have to meet his family but keep hers away from their knowledge. Norman knowing about what she had shared, that was enough, and she was okay with opening up to him. End of story.
She let him have his way with her, kissing her neck, touching her sacred breasts, and thrusting his pelvis into her at a firm rate. She embraced him, running her hands up and down his back while their loving happened, and it marked the perfect end of a gooddamn good night. Maggie was finally happy.
July, 1906
"Oh, Magdela, no wine for you!" The round table was only good four up to four people at one single time, but Maggie had well over four measly girl friends, but she kept the group small to make it count, and the ones who'd then be talking with their other mutual friends, getting the word out per Maggie's request. Mandee, Jackie, Mollie and Amanda poured each other glasses, then holding them up high to propose a toast for the young woman of great news; she was with child. "Bad for the baby!"
"Cheers to new life, and a brave step further into the book of your life," Mollie, a light brunette of wavy hair, praised.
"Salute!"
"Cheers!"
"To Maggie!"
"I appreciate your thoughts, ladies," Maggie laughed, "thanks, but to wait long for my child to come out, that's going to feel exhausting-" She rubbed her hands on her belly, taking it in.
"How do you feel, Mag?" Amanda, the blonde one of the group, and shortest one at that, had asked. "I can't imagine what it feels like."
"Well, it's... Certainly scary in a way," she confessed. "I've got much to learn about the miracles of raising a child."
"In any case, we're here for you if you ever need help," Mandee nodded. "Anyways, I thought that this would be the very news Jackie and I expected so..."
For some reason, Mandee and Jackie had seemingly come from shopping, bringing in four bags of items with them, left in the corner. Maggie hadn't thought much of it until now, when they both were now bringing it up. "We've gotten you some stuff for the baby! All gender neutral of course-"
"You... Presents for my-?" Maggie believed she misheard.
"Blankets, toys, children's books, too!" Mandee squealed with content. "It's gonna love every bit of all of this!"
Maggie couldn't have asked for better friends. "Aw, thank you kindly! You don't know what this means to me!" Naturally, Maggie had invested herself in taking am interested look at what the two had come- and Mollie had been one-upped yet again by the pair, silently kicking herself for not having an idea on what Maggie's last-minute get together entailed.
It was just like they've said, all cute and cuddly stuff fit for a baby- and then, when she pulled out a book from the assortment of them, fate arranged the coincidence, the connection that linked back to old ages. Maggie gasped, stuttered to see it again; one of those Heather Eleanor Hudson picture books! The happy girl in a black dress, and that signature scarf- there was no doubt about it. "Oh... It's her again."
"Hmm? What was that, Mags?"
Maggie held the book out to their sights. "My mom- My mom used to read thesw exact books to me..." It left the three friends on the table rather awkwardly speecheless briefly, but Maggie was there to shove that aura away. "I don't know if I'd ever see them again, but..."
Answers to most of her questions would never be revealed to her, but did it matter in the end? Here, when Maggie had stepped into her mother's own shoes. Then... What was it that made Helena White snap? Was it that particular feeling, the exact spot Maggie felt being cornered by? Did she break because it had overwhelmed her to that murderous state? And then, when Maggie had delved right into the heart of her own mind, paranoia's cold grip crawling up behind her. It made her know fear again. Fear and pain of falling right on that spot where Helena had ended up in. "I'll read them to my child, every night before it goes to sleep, and when it grows up..."
"Have you decided on a name?" Mollie asked.
"Actually..." Maggie rubbed her flat belly. "Junior for a boy, and..." With the book in her right hand, and right up in her face again, she decided on the girl's name. "This, this feels right, ladies. Heather if it's a girl. Heather... Heather Eleanor White."
March, 1912
Less than a curse.
"Mommy!" Heather Eleanor White was the full name she'd been given just as Magdela, more commonly known as Maggie, had told her friends some long years ago. The adorable angel of cream-white skin just as her own was a girl with a big heart and everlasting happiness- at least, that's what Maggie and Norman hoped for in the following years that followed. Their daughter, a girl with no gloom-ish bone in her body whatsoever, waking up both her parents by jumping on the bed and landing in between them. "Daddy! Good morning!"
"Ahhh!" Maggie gave her daughter a loving hug. "My, aren't you up and about, little one?"
"I'd like some pancakes, please!"
Norman turned from his side to greet his child. "Don't you worry a thing, champ, your mother and I will tend to you in a heartbeat."
"Swell!" The content of her personality was strong enough, unrivaled and unparalleled that it could create another sun if there was any scientific attempt to do just that. "I love pancakes."
"I know you do, sweetheart," Maggie patted. "We all do."
"They're yummy in my tummy!"
"They sure are, my sweet princess!" Norman tugged in little Heather, having her fall right in between them. He then proceeded to tickle her tiny stomach, bringing out of her those giggles that were music to both parents' ears, a delightful rhythm, a jolly symphony of Heather's love and affection they could cherish, one of the many memories they could make as the family they were, the perfect family. "The tickle monster prevails again!"
"No fair, daddy, you snuck up on me!" Heather placed herself around his neck, hugging and holding onto her dear father with wholesome warmth. "I love you, daddy."
"I love you, too, my sweet princess," Norman replied back, pressing his lips on her forehead.
"What about me, Heather?" Maggie playfully accused. "You don't love me anymore, is that it?"
"Noooooo," Heather shook. "Mommy, you too! I love you both-" She took her arms from around daddy's neck and stretched them out and raised them high. "-This much!"
"You're adorable, honey," Maggie consoled, getting up and putting on her soft fur slippers. "I'll get your platter started, also..." Her eyes shot at Norman briefly before returning to Heather. "We have some news we have to tell you."
"News?" Heather pressed her hands on the side of her cheeks. "Oh, what is it?"
Not a curse...
Days Later
Heather peered out through the window, watching the rain fall hard on the outside world, focusing in on the sounds of stampeding thunder. It was scary just as it was loud, especially when the lightning came about in the distance from where she was. Neither mother of father were here, but elsewhere. Far away due to a trip. A trip where they chose not to take her for some reason, and... Well, if she'd tell them, at any point in her life that it didn't hurt her at all, then that was the lie.
However long they'd take to come home, it wouldn't be fast enough for her. Not to get her wrong, there wasn't anything wrong with Mollie Gerhart, the hired nanny for this undisclosed amount of time, but it just didn't feel like home to her, not without them. Not with these games Mollie tried to play, nor with the strolls around the city's parks or parlors. Heather was just... Feeling something that was not in sync with her child state of being. Someone else. Someone before her time.
Maggie.
Helena.
Maybe even Victoria.
What's wrong, Heather? Missing mommy and daddy already? Tell you where they went, you ready? Here is what you didn't know.
The rain only kept falling harder, drops striking all over the window, making it hard to see outside.
They fucked off to Southampton, England to catch the Titanic. They'll be off sailing in pure joy and you, on the other hand, you're stuck here for what you believe will be days, weeks, maybe even months.
But you don't know.
You don't know the half of it, and I'm sorry to say-
Thunder erupted from the heavens, right after a flash of white lightning shone on the skies, actually making her jump. And she felt a curtain of dreadful unease sweep over her head. Something felt wrong...
Fate has been written the very second grandmother Helena spread her legs and gave her virginity like candy... And come to think of it, so did your mother. You are an abomination.
Heather blinked.
1923 - New York City
"Hey, miss..." The soul inside Heather grew dark if anything, dark and lonesome for the path that life had forcibly paved for her. She didn't need to know the outcome of her parents, but their fates were clear when the newspapers, way back when the public had expressed their sorrow and shared a collective grief for the tragedy of the fallen. And around the friends of her parents, Heather was pitied and looked down upon like an orphan child- No, yes she was, but there was hesitation on who had the honors of taking her in. For some silly, petty reason, no one stepped up to bat.
That was when Amelia Clemmons, the founder of a small orphanage she had a hand in creating singlehandedly since the earthquake in 1906, had taken her in for the rest of the decade, until she had scampered off and left the place. That was just a few months ago, and Heather, a firm teenager with no home or anything attached to her name other than the curse she didn't know about, wandered eastbound on herself. Tears, sadness, and an endless supply of emptiness- that had never kept out, no matter how hard she tried.
What was wrong with her? Why wasn't anything sufficient for her? Or... Fair... Why wasn't it fair?
"Excuse me, miss?"
Heather looked over the pier, starting at the far, reddish-orange horizon. Somewhere in this ocean, far from this spot, it happened. It happened to the parents White and so many others she didn't know. A large boat had sunk with many aboard... The thought of that had made her queasy and has given her heartache. She stared... And stared... And stared...
"Miss!" He who had been trying to get her attention had been there nearly as long as her, taking the endless view of the ocean. This man was a handsome devil with light facial hair that marked him as an adult if anyone doubted, but he looked young enough to be around his twenties, and early twenties by the looks of it. This man, Ray Robertson, had now been compelled to talk to Heather after seeing her gaze upon what was a dull scene, but more than that. Maybe something had troubled her mind, had her distracted. Injured. Cursed.
Heather felt his hand connect to her shoulder, and in that second, she snapped away from her mind and returned to reality. "Oh, excuse me-" Heather didn't know what the calm man wanted. "Yes, can I help you?"
"Miss, are you alright?" Ray had locked his eyes right into her beautiful blue pair, already noticing empty cries from deep within. Meanwhile, Heather herself moved her eyes about, failing to try and not return that stare he gave. "You look... Full of gloom."
Gloom... Gloom?
"What, gloomy?" Heather repeated. "You dare speak nonsense- I'm sorry, who are you and what does it matter to you?"
Ray chuckled, a chuckle calm as a tamed lion and as soft as a bird flapping its elegant, natural wings. "Let's not get all defensive, I'm just being rather observant. So, I take it that you are troubled, little one?"
"I- I am not little!" Her face, her height and that unnatural black dress she had on said otherwise, but she didn't care. "How dare you-"
"And you sound real young, too..." Ray pressed his hands along the railing on the pier, joining Heather. "It sure is amazing out here, is it not?"
Heather opened her mouth as wide as she could, but no sound had come out of it. "Uh- Well- Yeah, alright, I'll give you the satisfaction of humoring you."
"As if I made you give me a choice," the handsome man smiled widely, his perfect rows of teeth- the shine of which went duly noticed by Heather. "I'd like to know, what is it you see when looking over the sea."
"What I see?" Heather focused back on the watery canvas. "An ocean, long and deep, of course."
"Sun's setting, I guess you wanted to see it before nightfall hit, am I correct?"
"Well..." Heather ran her hand on the side of her face, running it down once she touched herself. "It does look gorgeous, but..." She wanted to describe the entirety of the sea as a place of loneliness, a place where one could go and sail in, to run away. To run from anything, everything, perhaps even nothing at all. To run the same way she did from Rennis Orphanage. A sea incompletely explored, and lacking of people. Suppose the beaches either here or on another coastline were packed with some folks, but those people would soon be leaving before the dark came to cover the day. They'd leave to make it empty... Empty. Happiness...
Heather, your parents drowned at sea. The place is a dead place! Sea full of sharks of all sorts! Come aboard a boat and see how lonely you really are!
Oh, you should already know what the state of your own, young life is by now! You are alone- whether or not you actually think about going to sea. But... You already knew that, didn't you? You already know that you are that runner, that runner who finished the race...
...Because you were the only one to make it to the end. The final White of the cursed family tree. And yet, you're already falling into the pit just as they did. I'll laugh at you for the next hundred years.
"I don't know what I'm expecting to see," Heather revealed. "It's just a long bathtub, and dirty at that..."
"Interesting words..." Ray pointed to the evacuating sun. "There's more to it than that, I believe. The sea is a beautiful part of the world, so full of fish and other types of underwater animals. Seahorses, crabs, rays..." He turned to her. "Speaking of rays-" And held out a hand to greet her. "I'm sorry, I lost my manners, my name is Ray. Ray Robertson. And you are...?"
Heather was reluctant to shake his hand but accepted his notion. "Heather White, mister."
At the time, she was a minor, but she wasn't. Victoria had kept wailing over a curse, rambles that made no sense to Helena. From wherever the vicious woman was, she was right, proving that there might just have been one all along, and said curse involved being possessed by immoral, lustful sirens who desired to sleep with men, any and all that they could get to through their vessels. It started with Helena first, so influenced by the soft murmurs and whispers of one, and maybe that one had possessed Maggie in the later years. For all anyone knew, maybe Maggie and Heather were truly possessed by siren ghouls without them knowing, their forces compelling them to act and give in to their primitive, dirty, sexual nature.
Heather, just like the women of the previous two generations, had spread her legs for Ray, wanting what he offered- Here was the funny part; Ray was not some pig, a man slavishly drooling over her body, most importantly her over-developed breasts, a pair that were just out there, the forbidden fruits ripe and perfect. Heather liked him, and maybe he did, too, a concept that formed right after Heather had been invited to his place, where they sucked face for a brief amount of time.
"Hold on-" Ray pushed her away, which confused her heavily right as she was in the midst of taking off her dress, her private parts exposed to him. "Let's not rush this."
"What- what's wrong?" Heather wanted it, primarily due to her actually liking the sensation of it. His touch, his kisses, his affection was worth her own, giving it right back and all that she could physically offer. "Did I do something?"
"No, it's not you," Ray tried to handle. "I just don't wanna-"
A very special guest, uninvited, had appeared from the back of the house, advancing to the living room where the two were. Heather felt terribly embarrassed, making an effort to cover herself up. The second figure, a cloaked man in a black, uneven robe and hood, ominously stared down at them, his face being near identical to Ray's, but more of a hostile and menacing look, and no facial hair at all, but it did not mean he was younger than Ray. "Good evening, dear brother. Sorry to intrude on your personal time-"
Ray got up and tried to push this man away from Heather's presence. "What are you doing, man?"
"Excuse me-"
"You are not welcome here, brother," Ray enforced. "Please leave."
"Listen, little brother," the cloaked man winced, cackling a smile. "I found it, I've found the book of the Coven. There is so much-"
"No, enough of this black magic craziness!" Ray increased his grip, now actually escorting the disturbed older brother through the front. "No more of this hunt for voodoo magic, or whatever it is!"
"Immortality! The secret power of the underworld can be ours!"
"Get out! Get out or I will make sure the proper authorities will collect you, brother! If I have to report you, I will do so!"
Heather only looked on, nervous and slightly afraid of this little altercation, one-sized at that. "Uh, Ray-"
Ray evicted the cloaked, deranged man out of his abode, and shut the door in between them with no hesitation. "Curses- Ah, Heather, my many apologies... That was not how I wished to introduce my older brother."
"You two...?" Heather did the math. "You're different from each other!"
"I am vastly aware, it eludes me as well, but alas, that man is my brother, no matter what levels pf lunacy he reaches." Ray stood there standing for a minute before returning to the couch with Heather. "Listen, I've just met you-"
"Ray, we were practically all over each other moments ago," Heather throttled back. "What hails you? Please, tell me, at least..."
She didn't know much about him, but after tonight, after he'd open up to her, Heather would truly feel like she knew him. And vice versa. "Listen, it... I meant it when I said it wasn't you, it just... It rather feels dull. I can't accept it if it's just invalid and meaningless."
"Meaningless...? My... My affection is-?" It attacked her on a personal level. "What- You-?"
"With all due respect, is this all that we're going to be?" Ray pondered. "Heather, I like being around you, I enjoy your company, but we'd ruin the connection if we engaged in... Well, what you want to dive in-"
"Are- Are you accusing me of-?!"
"No, good Lord, heavens no!" Ray denied. "I mean to say that I'd love a real relationship with someone that isn't primarily founded by sex, by something so easily obtainable. Heather, I don't want to feel bored with you if this is all we're gonna do."
And for a second, she was mad, widely infuriated, yet she felt that he made the most sense when he put it like that. To found a relationship via sex and deep kisses wasn't a real one, and yet she knew she'd enjoy it, to be laid down and go to town. She'd love to have a man come over and visit the home of her young, steamy-hot body. But he was right.
"I..." Ray gently placed his hand on Heather's face, right on her cheek. "I want to fall in love with someone the right way, that's all."
Her heart rate elevated at his gentle touch, and the sound of his voice, it was real and deep on an emotional level. It couldn't have been faked- and if it was, he was an expert con man. And that didn't make much sense as it was, she had wanted to give him her body at the start. What could he have hoped to gain if it was a real ruse? But- No, in his eyes, Heather sensed him being true to her and to himself; this was a man who wanted a real relationship with someone who shared his interests and ideas. Someone just like him...
The perfect type of man Maggie would have definitely approved of if she were still around.
"Y-you're- You're really sweet..." Heather formed a curvy, yet awkward smile. "I had no idea-"
"Forgive me, I do not mewn to suggest that you aren't- Well, capable of such a commitment, I believe you do, but there's a lot of room for you to grow. You're young, you're free and you've got parents who I'm sure love you-"
Heather shoved his hand away and stood up, nerve struck. "No!"
Ray only looked on, confused as to what had set her off. "I'm sorry?"
But he didn't know, so there wasn't a true reason for her to rage out on him. "No, I don't- I don't have-" This wasn't how she imagined the night to go either. Not deep or painful, yet here it was. "I lost them, Ray. I have no one."
"You..." He shook his head, still trying to unravel. "Sorry, you'll have to explain-"
"I lost them at sea, to that ship- You know-"
"Ship- Shi-" Ray understood what she meant. "What- They were on it...?"
Silence.
"My sincere condolences, Heather," Ray let out, voice soft as ever. "I see now."
"I have tried to picture them when I've looked upon the waters," Heather went on. "The reflection of the sea, but it's always my face. It's just myself that I find every time, reminding me that I made it here... Here, without them, alone-"
Ray bounced to his feet, moving to console her. Heather radiated some serious emotional pain that could only go undetected by the most dense of people. "I can't imagine what you're going through."
"Ray..." When he hugged her, she wrapped her arms around him and dug her head onto his chest. "Make me feel something- I really liked what we were up to-"
"H-Heather-" The last thing he wanted to do was to take advantage of this poor girl, but deep past that, Heather was really a girl with minor experience on living affection of any sort. Ray here had been able to offer what she wanted; a mere distraction, a sort of medicine to heal some of the scars. The partial decline of her pain, alleviation to return to a healthy state if it ever existed. "I don't know."
"Please- Ray, I want you- I want to have you-" Heather leaned up and kissed his cheek softly. Either it was the real Heather or the siren at true work, either way, it was desired in her. "I want to make you love me."
He fulfilled, still harboring some reluctance to make a move with this girl, still a stranger, but alas, one that had come damaged from a broken heart and a length of loneliness. He brushed the hair off her face with such ease, a graceful swipe from his hand, and, hand in cheek connecting, he grabbed her beautiful face and leaned in to kiss her when she made it clear she wasn't going to stop throwing her affection at him in bits and pieces. They kissed, pulled back, and kissed again like explorers afraid to go into the uncharted lands that were likely to be hostile. They were slow and cautious for some reason, but maybe it was the felt sympathy that ensured they didn't rush in like lovers of today's world.
And just like that, in near the same way as grandma Helena and her mother Magdela, Heather stripped free of her clothes at long last, with no interruptions, no strings attached. She laid in his bed, the perfect form of her bodily state out there in view. Her breasts of pointed nipples, her clit, her cream-white skin- and it had only begun when Ray took his clothes off from top to bottom. The body language was positive, acceptable and romantic between them. He kissed her lips gently, tasting the flavor of her lips. From there, he went down to her neck, chest and flat stomach, delightfully making her moan right before he inserted his woohoo into her yeehaw, giving her tehe. And he gave slow, steadied thrusts, pushing right deep into her and then back out. Heather got wet, loving the sensation of the special guest going in and out like nobody's business. She moaned, then placing her delicate hands on the side of his hips, pulling his lower body deeper when he thrusted to get it as deep as they were able to. Heather opened her mouth, emitting sexually-oriented exhaled, one major sign that she was enjoying the sex.
When his energy had diminished, given out after eight long minutes of pounding on Heather, she had the honor of rotating positions with him, taking over where he had finished. She rode him fast and hard, her moist skin making fleshy slap sounds every time she came down. Her breasts bobbed up and down, bouncing about wildly and freely. Had you been there to see her jugs jiggle about, you'd have a genuine boner- and Link-A would totally be wet if she ever saw the majestic scene happen. "Ohhhh! Ohhhh, yes!"
No, Heather's period hadn't started again, so this was safe sex. Unprotected, but safe to engage in. She didn't know as much as her generation predecessors, so pregnancy was highly likely with her should she keep riding him until he came and filled his load into her. Either way might've just been okay by her standards. I'll make you fall in love with me, Ray. I'll make you do so, and I promise-
He did just that, he came inside her and filled her womb of his seed, and Heather loved the feeling of that warm liquid fill her.
I could fall for you, too. I could know what love is if you let me... If you let me, with you.
She rode him at a fast rate, going as fast as she could, sweat forming at the temples. She tilted her head back high, moaning longer, in her high-pitch womanly squeal. Oh how she loved the sinful company of a man and his pet mouse, and at this age, too. Whatever anyone would dare say, she gaveth no such fuck.
I could fall in love with you... I could even marry you...
In the following four minutes of fucking him, Heather Eleanor White had given out, falling onto his chest and given a romantic pampering by him, who wrapped his arms around her, kissed her forehead and stroked her long, black hair. Neither one was cleaning up for sex just yet, but Heather wanted to remain here in this spot forever. Forever meaning until the next morning.
And neither being made it to the end before the sun came up.
Hours Later
Maybe there was a curse, and it had gone well past a simple curse of an endless cycle now. Heather was still bare naked, but now lying on the cold, hard ground, placed right over a satanic pentagram made of black powder. Her hands and legs, spread out and tied to an individual stake just outside of the circle. An upside down cross marked on hwr forehead in blood, possibly her own. Then, there was that insane, heavy screaming near her, voice of the source loud to startle her out of her sleep. "Mmmmm...?"
"HEATHER!" Ray's voice, hoarding out the screams to shake her bones. "HEATHER, TRY TO GET UP-!"
She saw Ray, battered and bleeding severely from a lot of places, most notably from his head. He was immobile, huffing among the wall he leaned on, a face of dreaded shock defining the moment Heather knew a great sense of fear. "RAY!"
And it was before she noticed the familiar cloaked figure again. The cruel older brother of this man she had just been in bed with a good few hours ago had hovered over her, and this time, he sported a white theatre mask, eyes and mouth painted a light red. "Hello, my sweets."
"H-Hey..." Heather went near dead quiet at the sight of him, breath shaking away. "What- What are you doing?"
In the cloaked man's hands was a blade of a rusty brown color not like any knife Heather had ever seen. Ancient, perhaps, from an era that long passed. "The coming of the Dark Lord arrives through a self-sacrifice and a trial..."
"ENOUGH OF THIS MADNESS!" Ray wailed. "YOU ARE ILL-WORTHY-"
"The trial must be this ordinary human, haaaaaa!" The demented Ryan Robertson bent down and picked at Heather's left hand with the weird blade. "Your wrists will be sliced as I summon the presence of the Dark Lord to lay witness to... Madness."
And he sliced open her wrist while speaking in what could only be a Latin language, some demonic incantation that called upon an unnatural dark force. Heather screamed with great pain, her arm bleeding out on the floor. The candles around them suddenly died out all at once, the feeling in the back of Ray's neck giving him bad vibes. "NO, BROTHER!"
"Now for the other one," Ryan giggled menacingly, moving the blade to Heather's other arm. "Only the Dark Lord wills what your fate will be."
"DON'T DO IT!" Ray beckoned with all of his might. "DON'T KILL THAT INNOCENT GIRL!"
"It is a necessary endeavor," Ryan assured, cutting up Heather's other wrist from hand to joint. Again, the poor nude girl of pale skin emitted an injured cry again. "Scream for him!"
"All this nonsense!" Ray gasped out. "And for what?!"
"The coming of the Dark Ages is upon us! I will be reborn by his hand to become a ruler of the Tiramakkuri, the Shadow Demons, and the Gouelgarrie! I live to serve-" The cloaked man placed himself in the middle of the pentagram, sitting right over Heather, arms extended outward and the knife pointed at him as Heather died underneath him. "In his name, I hereby give my life to the cause!"
"YOU CRAZY FOOL!" Ray watched helplessly as Ryan stabbed himself right in the abdomen to intitate the final step of the conjuring. A few moments passed after he toppled over Heather's naked body, his blood dripping onto her and the floor. "WHY HER?!"
"For the good... Of the Dark Lord," Ryan weakly grumbled out, dying right over the naked girl. Heather would then go on to bleed out right underneath, frail and powerless to even budge. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but her other features had slowed down. Mouth perfectly still as time itself, hands and feet no longer squirmy, neither was she trying to cry for help in these last moments of life.
Heather was dying. Dying young, a key factor in the endless curse's cycle, and younger as the generations stacked up. Ray was helpless to give critical aid to the dying Heather, and as such-
She closed her eyes, not opening them again.
I see you and the burdens of your past mothers... Your soul is but a dirty one I dare not take. To relieve you of the curse would be too lenient, too merciful of me, and I will not allow this. I will return your soul to your vessel, but keep in mind-
The opened slits in Heather's arms closed slowly, regenerating inexplicably and unnaturally.
-Your corpse is no longer alive. Your heart- Your entire system has been shut down, but I will grant you life beyond the living, the essence of a darker life force to be one with you, my dear. Only then will you suffer forever, only then will you walk among the living, to watch them live and die while you do not.
Heather averted her eyes again, which had then upgraded to a darker red color.
You will have an insatiable hunger for human flesh, and you will devour the innocent. You will become one under me, a true monstrosity. A carnivore.
She pushed away Ryan's body, then smelled the blood his body leaked out.
You are a vampire.
And she liked it, instincts not of her own compelling her to lay it flat and then dig her hands right into the body, taking a handful of the innards. She devoured the meat, drank the blood, scene too graphic and gritty for Ray's eyes. And she was pleased by it, the taste, the bloodthirst of it. The new and improved Heather White, reborn as a vampire.
AN: I've told people this was happening, I just never said where it was to be incorporated in. There you have it, the White family tree takes place long before the present, and it's been long since I've come up with this. Magdela White, AKA Maggie, a victim lost in the Titanic tragedy, proving that historical events have, and will happen in this fic. And as for Heather, yeah that's the girl who will become Gloom. You know, the Gloom you're familiar with, just altered tenfold.
And make no mistake, Gloom is currently roaming within the shadows in the present. Her time will come.
Also glad to have a more added to my OC Ray Robertson/Mister Mystic, seen before helping Lucy and Carly. There's more for both brothers in the future, I can assure you of that. I love expanding the world of Dawn.