Trigger Warning: If you are sensitive to the topic of sexual assault, feel free to skip over Danny's vision (the entire thing is in italics). Nothing actually happens, but the set-up is very uncomfortable and it does get summarized afterwards. Remember when I said I might have to bump up the rating? That vision is the reason. I actually altered it so that I could keep the T-rating. Rape does get discussed, but it's only in a speculative way because Jack has no idea what's really going on. Let me emphasize that nothing like that happens.
Chapter Five: Amelia
"Call me whatever you want. It's not going to stop me from trying to do the right thing." - Emma Watson
Danny
I feel guilty for ranting about my human parents' abuse toward me when my audience is a group of dead orphans. But, the waves of pity and understanding wafting from the the little balls of light tell me that they don't mind.
I sniff and swipe at the tears that slipped out. "My parents surprised me, though. Once I found the courage to tell them the truth, they accepted me, said they still loved me. Their whole view of ghosts changed. All because of me!" I get off the bench I was sitting on and look at each wanderer in turn. My eyes stay on the one with the bump a touch longer. "I got my happy ending. I'll do everything I can to make sure you guys get yours." I start for the stairs. "I'm gonna get my dad. Then, we can finish this."
I fly upstairs and into the dining room, where my father is sitting at one of the tables. His flashlight is resting on the table, shining on a random spot on the wall. Dad has one arm behind the flashlight and his head resting in his other hand.
He looks…really sad.
My first thought is that he was listening when I was talking to the kids. I really hope I'm wrong.
"Dad?" He leaps off the chair at my voice. The chair topples over from the force. "Are you okay?"
"Danny Boy!" He grabs the flashlight and sends me a big forced smile. "I'm fine. It's, uh," he rubs the back of his neck, "starting to catch up to me, I suppose. With the-the kids."
He didn't hear anything. I let myself relax. "It's getting to me, too. Thankfully, it's almost over. Let's head back down there and finish this."
He nods, and I turn around-
-and see the last wanderer floating near the hallway.
The pregnant girl, possibly named Amelia.
I'm about to know how it feels for a pregnant woman to die. What caused it? Did she die in childbirth? I know that was more common back then. But, given what I know about this place, that's probably a best case scenario.
Unconsciously, my hands move to rest over my stomach. What does it feel like? To have a life growing inside of you? It's something I knew that I would never experience, so I never thought that hard about it.
My imprinted son, Bub, flashes in my mind's eye. Chubby gray limbs and expressive red eyes and the tiniest fangs you've ever seen. Bub crawling around in the snow. Taking his first steps on his first birthday. Cuddling up to me in bed.
He isn't mine by blood, but for the way I feel, he may as well be.
If I lost him…
It's too horrible to think about.
"Danny? Yoo-hoo, Danny." The feeling of Dad lightly shaking me snaps me out of it. "Earth to Danny."
I shake my head clear. "Sorry. The-the pregnant one is here."
"She is?" He shines his flashlight around then remembers that he can't see her.
"Yeah," I say. "I was…thinking about Bub."
Dad hums in understanding. "When you told me one was pregnant, I was thinking of your mother. How excited we were when she was pregnant with Jazz and then with you."
I have nothing to say to that. So, give my father a hug, he squeezes back, and then I return my attention to that staticky ball of light with the bump. "I didn't know you guys could leave the cellar."
"Maybe they can leave the cellar," Dad suggests, "just not the orphanage."
We follow the wanderer down the hall. Dad sticks close to me as we make our way through the darkness. I'm sure there were light switches installed by whoever's in charge of the tours, but we've established that the wanderers want us to go without. Thanks to the broad daylight beaming through the windows, it isn't pitch-black, but certain areas are still pretty dark.
The bathroom is one of them. There is a tiny window on the wall near the ceiling, but that's the only light source. Dad turns off the flashlight and reattaches it to his belt in case he has to hold me down.
I didn't expect the bathroom to look so much like the ones of the modern day. The toilet has some kind of box that stands near the ceiling and is attached by a pipe, but that's the only particularly weird thing. Shows what I know about the history of indoor plumbing. Even in the 1860s, we'd come a long way from the days when people did their business in a bucket and dumped it out the window. (Gross.)
The wanderer hovers over the bathtub. This sends a jolt of panic through me, as I now have the mental image of a girl with a round belly slitting her wrists in the bathwater.
I wonder if Dad has the same image. He comes up behind me, takes me by the shoulders, and bends down to kiss my temple. "I'm here, son."
I choke down the lump in my throat and walk on shaky legs to the bathtub. I climb in and sit so that the faucet is across from me. There's a tingling in my limbs as the wanderer directs me into the correct position. My head rests against the wall of the tub. My arms are up in the air. My legs are spread and also up high.
I should feel ridiculous. Instead, all I feel is fear as that same dizziness washes over me.
"Let me go!" I scream, struggling as Shawn and Christopher hold my arms and legs in the air. "Let me go!"
"Shut up, whore!" Roderick shouts from where he is blocking the door, preventing anyone from coming in to save me.
Cold defiance makes me keep screaming and trying to break free. The stick boys had managed to rip off my bloomers as they manhandled me into the bathtub. I fear that rape is imminent. Why else would they be doing this?
My mind flashes to Nicholas. Kind, intelligent, handsome Nicholas. Sneaking off in the dead of night to see him was always worth the risk. When I confessed to him about my condition, he didn't turn me away like I feared.
He proposed on the spot.
The stick boys grabbed me while I was in the middle of packing my things. Nicholas and I are going to run away to his uncle's home in Pittsburgh. Nicholas is going to work in one of the factories while I care for the baby.
At least, that had been the plan. What will Nicholas think when he discovers that I've been desecrated by such vile men?
The babe wiggles in my belly, spurring me on. I can't give up. Nicholas is surely on his way to the train station by now.
I hear the door open then close. For a brief moment, I think that someone has come to my rescue.
Then, Ms. Carmichael looms over me with her hands behind her back.
I still at the sight. A twisted part of me would prefer to be raped, because one look at Ms. Carmichael's face tells me that she knows.
"Disgraceful," she drawls, utterly disappointed. Her shoes click on the floor as she stands closer next to the faucet, almost directly across from my exposed privates. "I had high hopes for you, Amelia. You were my brightest and most well-behaved charge."
Fear was the reason for this. I made one mistake while trapped under her thumb, and only she considers it a mistake.
"It's my own fault this happened," Ms. Carmichael says, shaking her head. "I was too lax with you."
"It's not your fault, ma'am," Christopher says to her. He turns to me with a sneer. "She's just a filthy whore."
"That's the second time I've been called that," I snap. "Are you boys so stupid that you can't come up with a better insult?"
Christopher opens his mouth, but Ms. Carmichael cuts him off. "That's enough out of all of you. I'll fix this. We can't have this…sinner," she spits out the word, "destroying the homestead's reputation."
I lunge forward as much as I can while still being held down. "You've been doing that since you came here!"
"Be quiet!" Shawn snaps.
"Devil woman!" I scream. "Spawn of Satan!"
"Enough!" Ms. Carmichael shouts, finally showing the anger hidden below the surface. She breathes, composing herself. "You can only hope that the Lord is merciful, Amelia. Until you can find out, I will have to deal with this myself."
"You got the herbs, ma'am?" Roderick asks.
My blood runs cold. I have heard that there is a special blend of herbs that will remove a babe from the womb. I will not eat them. If they are forced down my throat, I will throw them back up. I will not lose my and Nicholas's child. Not like this. Never like this.
"Herbs are too good for someone so," Ms. Carmichael wrinkles her nose in disgust, "unclean. I have a more appropriate means in mind."
Already chilled, my blood freezes solid when Ms. Carmichael reveals what had been hidden behind her back. She slowly, deliberately uncoils the spool of wire. The stick boys giggle in malicious anticipation.
This is not a practice I have ever heard of.
And, not one my child will be the victim of.
"Hold her still," Ms. Carmichael commands.
I scream and struggle with all my might. Ms. Carmichael bends over the tub and brings the wire closer and closer to my femininity.
An image appears in my mind's eye. Dearest Nicholas holding a babe with his eyes and my hair, gazing at the child with such raw, unabashed love. The image gives me strength.
I rip my arm from Shawn's grip, startling him enough that his hold on my ankle slackens. I roll over and bite down hard on Christopher's wrist. He shouts in pain and releases me. I spit out his blood as I climb out of the tub.
What follows is a blur of bodies and my own terror turned red hot fury. All three stick boys try to grab me. I kick one in the nethers. He falls. I scratch one in the eye, and the blood pouring down his face fuels me.
The Lord can say whatever he wants about my violence, about my baby. I don't regret a thing.
Ms. Carmichael backhands me across the face. I stumble back and into another stick boy's arms. Ms. Carmichael reaches for me, and I bite her hand as well. She screams and pulls back, scattering drops of blood on the floor. This distracts my captor enough that I am able to spin out of his grip and rush for the door.
I don't see the other children crying and yelling for me. My mind is only on my escape.
An escape that is thwarted when Ms. Carmichael catches up to me. How can she be so fast? She must be well over thirty!
She grabs me from behind, her grip iron-clad no matter how much I flail in her arms. Her scathing tone does nothing to quell my panic. "I should have known there was a demon lurking inside of you! Very well. We'll finish this somewhere more suitable."
The dungeon, she means. She's dragging me toward the dungeon. She'll chain me up and beat the child out of me. Or, she'll trap me in the pit and force me to give birth in the dark, cramped space.
Nicholas is waiting for me. Our child is counting on me. It can't end this way.
At last, I break free of Ms. Carmichael's grip.
Only to discover that I am at the top of the dungeon's staircase.
I lose my balance and fall backwards.
A blast of pain rings through my skull.
Then, there is nothing.
Jack
"Let me go!" Danny screams. "Let me go!"
I hold his head in place so he doesn't bash it into the tub as he writhes under the grasp of whoever's holding his arms and legs. I don't know if a head injury can hurt him in ghost-form, but I have no desire to find out.
(Lord knows, he's taken plenty of hits to the head since getting his powers, and they never seemed to affect him much, but...)
"Easy, Danny," I say as gently as I can while panic creeps through me. He can't hear me, but I need to hear myself say it. "I'm here. You're okay."
As Danny continues screaming and struggling, a horrible thought enters my mind. The wanderer is a young woman who apparently died in the bathtub with her legs spread apart. Could she have been raped? Is my son learning what being raped feels like?
I try to push the thought away, but it lingers, threatening to unravel me.
Danny stills. His too-white eyes stare in horror at something only he can see. The wait is agonizing, especially with that terrible thought refusing to leave.
My son's face twists in rage. "That's the second time I've been called that. Are you boys so stupid that you can't come up with a better insult?"
My heart stops. Does that confirm the rape theory? God, I hope not.
Danny's head and torso lurch forward, but he is still locked in place by invisible restraints. "You've been doing that since you came here!"
Who is he talking to?
"Devil woman! Spawn of Satan!"
Is it Rosa Carmichael? Does that mean he's not being raped? Or…is she the one…
I choke down a wave of tears. Knowing what I know about Rosa, I wouldn't put anything past her.
After some more writhing and grunting, Danny freezes in place. His eyes are wide and his face is strained in terror. What else is my son being put through?
(It's my fault. I killed him. I'm the reason he's a ghost. I'm the reason he's putting himself through this. I shouldn't have brought him here.)
Danny screams and writhes twice as hard. It's a struggle to keep his head in place.
He pulls one arm and one leg free and rolls to the side. The suddenness of the movement makes me let go. His teeth gnash into presumably his captor. He spits and leaps out of the tub.
Whoever this wanderer is, she went down fighting.
Danny spins and twists and lashes out at his invisible attackers. Without context, I might think he had either totally lost it or was doing one of those weird fad dances. I grab him from behind and hold him tightly so that he doesn't hurt himself.
After a while, all his thrashing makes me lose my grip. He runs for the door, mimes opening it - it must have been closed in his vision - and takes off running. I call his name and run after him. Normally, there would be no hope of me catching up to him in his human-form, let alone his ghost-form. However, Danny seems to be limited to the girl's speed, though he's still faster than me.
The rooms and hallways are small, and Danny sprints through them so fast that I only have the sound of his footsteps to guide me. When I find him, his arms are pinned at his sides. He is kicking and wiggling as if pinned in place. He is partially floating, as if someone is dragging him away.
Dragging him to the stairs. To that steep stone staircase that leads to the cellar.
My insides curdle. I know how the girl died.
I scream my son's name and move faster than I ever have. Danny spins around as he falls backwards.
At the last second, I grab his arm, pull him up, and crush him against me. My whole body quakes. My breathing is heavy and ragged. Silent tears drip down my cheeks.
My son gasps back into reality. He is in my arms, and he is safe.
"I have a son." Danny's words confuse me until I realize he's not talking to me. "If something happened to him, I don't know what I'd do."
That makes two of us.
Danny sniffles, and I reluctantly release him so he can cup the wanderer in his hands. "And, I have a girlfriend. I'd love her no matter what happened. I know Nicholas felt the same way about you. Amelia…I wouldn't have done a damn thing different."
So, the third wanderer is Amelia. Amelia…and her baby.
"Do you…want to tell me what happened?" I ask.
Danny takes a long, shaky breath. He swipes the back of his hand over his eyes and under his nose before turning to me. "It's the worst one. But, you probably figured that out."
The good news is that Amelia wasn't raped, which means that Danny didn't have to go through that.
The bad news is what he did have to go through.
Amelia had fallen in love with a boy named Nicholas, the baby's father. The two of them were going to run away together, but Rosa had somehow discovered Amelia's pregnancy. Amelia was screaming and struggling in the bathtub was because Rosa was going to abort the baby by sticking a wire up Amelia's vagina. The very idea sends tremors up my spine.
Luckily, Rosa didn't get that far, because Amelia was able to free herself in time. She fought off the stick boys who had been holding her down and tried to make an escape. But, Rosa caught up to her and started dragging her down to the cellar. Amelia managed to break free of Rosa's grip, but it happened at the worst possible moment. As I'd gathered from what Danny's body was doing, Amelia died by falling down the stairs and cracking her head open. She was only sixteen.
By the time the story is over, Danny is hugging himself and trembling in my arms. Or, maybe I'm the one who's trembling.
I can't get over how brave my son is. Nor how long it took me to notice.
Danny blows out a breath and steps away from me, facing what I can only assume are the wanderers. "So…what now? We know your stories. Are you…ready to go?"
That's right. I completely forgot that the sole reason we were doing this was to help those kids pass on.
When Danny doesn't say anything else, I ask, "Are they ready?"
There's a pause, then Danny turns back to me, shaking his head in disbelief. "I have to be misinterpreting this."
"What do you mean?"
"The kids can't give me, like, actual words outside of visions, but they've been sending me…emotions, I guess? Like they're trying to turn my thoughts in a certain direction? I-I don't know how to explain it. But, they're not ready to go yet."
"What else do they need?" Hopefully, it's something we can provide quickly and painlessly. The sight of my son living through so much torture and almost falling down the stairs is going to stay with me for a long time.
Danny massages his forehead. "They want to talk to Rosa."
I should have known it wouldn't be easy. "Rosa? Why would they want to see her again? Even ignoring everything she's done, the woman is long dead. We don't have any way of knowing if she's a ghost."
Danny bites his lip and doesn't meet my gaze. "I, um… When I was talking to them down there…something I said made them wonder if-if Rosa changed her ways."
My heart breaks for the umpteenth time. How could Danny's tearful confession to being afraid of me have inspired this?
"As for whether or not she's a ghost, Reaper can tell us that. But," Danny turns back to the wanderers, "you guys do realize that if Rosa isn't a ghost, there's nothing we can do."
They understand.
