A House Filled With Night

The pages were thin and brittle. Runa lifted them gingerly between two fingers and smoothed them out one by one. Words floated up to her gaze like pictures of the past. She could almost hear the woman’s voice, like the cry she had heard in her dreams.

March 20th, —

No matter how much I try to remember, I cannot remember exactly how I ended up here. Did he take me in a dream? I was asleep and then I was here. Even the memory of where I slept that night has become as foggy as an old dream now.

This house is no less terrifying than when I first arrived. I believe it is enchanted. It must be enchanted. It seems to change sometimes. Unfortunately, it has yet to create an open door for me. There is only one, and it is forever locked.

I must go now.

April 13th , —

Today he called me “Adelie” instead of Brielle. Who is she, I wonder? I remember when I thought he truly wanted me as a wife. That is probably what “Adelie” thought, as well. I was so scared, but I thought I loved him. Where is this Adelie now, I wonder? It is a terrible question to ponder. It is a useless question to ponder, because I know the answer in my heart. Dwelling on such thoughts will only do me ill.

It is truly a strange thing to know that life is growing inside of you. Life, but not only life. It is my life. Since it is my child, it is a part of me. It is his child as well, which is no less strange but much more awful. My child will be born into this horrible place, and I pity him for it. He has done nothing to deserve it. I fear he will face many cold and terrible nights here. I don’t want to bring a child into this place, but what choice do I have?

It occurs to me that I have been assuming the child will be a boy. I wonder why? I feel quite certain of it.

May 2nd, —

There are other children here. I have long been hearing voices in the distance, but I feared they were only wicked tricks, or perhaps my imagination conjuring up fantasies to make me feel less alone. Today, I was relieved to find both these to be incorrect.

Earlier this morning, a small child came to my window. He was a peculiar little thing, with hair as white as snow, but clearly young and strong. He was in fact very small, and at first, I thought he might be too young to speak. He stared at me for a long time with his big eyes, without saying anything at all. Finally, he asked me who I was. I gave him my name, and he gave me his: Sylvain. After this, he seemed excited to talk and proceeded to tell me all about himself, his toys, and his new baby brother. He stayed at my window until he heard Cenred coming.

I can only assume he is one of Cenred’s sons, although he never mentioned his father, not once. I wonder now…if Cenred is even that man’s true name. Everything else he told me was a lie, perhaps his name was, as well. It makes me feel like a fool for using it, but I know no other way in which to refer to him.

If there are children living in this house, will my son join them? Who was their mother? What happened to her? Perhaps this Adelie gave birth to all of them. I have a horrible suspicion, however, that this is not the case. From what I have seen of Cenred, that man, he seems easily weary of women. He has not visited me since I arrived here except to see how the baby is faring. I hate to give him any satisfaction by it, but I cannot help but fear him. These days I feel little else but fear, anger, and sadness.

But I’ve felt something new today. This child, Sylvain, cheered me somehow. Maybe seeing his smile made gave me hope my son could smile in that way as well. He’s growing stronger—my child is. I feel it.

May 16th, —

Sylvain continues to visit me, although I am sure he is doing it without the knowledge or permission of that man. He shows me the figures he makes out of clay or brings me flowers he picked in the gardens. Once he brought his little brother, a pale babe called Casimir.

Sylvain is so kind and gentle that it truly breaks my heart. His is most likely dead, and I do not even know if he realizes that. He is so terrified of his father. He is always on the alert, fearful that the man could appear at any moment. Still, there is something strange about that child. Not only his snowy hair. Sometimes I’ve noticed his eyes sparkle like diamonds, like a fairy child. Sometimes he tells me strange things about the house that do not make sense. He speaks about paintings as if they spoke to him, or about dreams where he has already met my son. At first, I thought it was only the imagination of a child. Lately, I am not so sure.

June 7th, —

Sylvain and I became too careless in our little visits. He is being punished, and it is all my fault. He is only a child. I should have been more careful. In truth, his visits are the only comfort I have in this place. Because of me, that man, that despicable man, found him out, and he

I don’t want to describe it. I don’t even want to remember it. I cannot stand to be in this cursed house another day! This is a perfect hell he has made. Oh, dear little Sylvain. He is only a child. I wish that man would have taken out his anger on me instead.

I can think of this no longer. I cannot stand it. Will my child have to face this one day? No. I cannot leave my son to this wicked man.

June 29th, —

I feelI am tired. This place is Sylvain

I do not know what to write. I cannot take this anymore.

August 25th, —

I have been sick and unable to write. That man watches me more attentively now. He is not worried about me. He is worried about the child.

I intended to give up this journal entirely. In truth, I intended to give up on life as well. But something has happened since I last wrote. It is something so entirely unexpected and remarkable, I could not have foreseen it.

I have fallen in love. So much so, that I fear I cannot find the heart to leave this life yet. I did not think it was possible to love something you cannot hold, or even see, and yet I have never been more in love than I am now. This beautiful child living in me…I can feel his little hands pushing for me, his little feet kicking for me. I long to see his face. Even if it is only for a moment, Living is worth it, if only for the chance to see him. My greatest wish is to hold him in my arms, to kiss his eyes, his nose, and every little finger and toe.

He is my fellow inmate here. We will have to look after each other from now on. If only I could keep him from coming to harm. I want my child to be happy. I want him to see the stars from the hills. I want him to taste the sweet apples at the city festival. I want him to play in woods while it’s still dewy in the morning. I want him to laugh every day. I want him to have a hundred friends. I want him to know true love. I want everything for him.

But all I can offer you, my darling, my child, is my blood, and my heart.

September 1st , —

He will be here in little more than a few weeks. I may have finally gone mad, but I am decided. My child will not be born in this house. I am leaving tonight. I have found a way out. I cannot take Sylvain and his brother with me, but I will come back for them with an army when I reach the city.

I am afraid that I will fail. I have become so much weaker now than I was when I first arrived. I do not care if I die. I only hope my child may make it safely into the world first. I want to see him at least once.

I do not care if that man finds this journal someday. I hope he does, so he will know how much I despise him, and how much more I love my son. If you ever read this, I want you to know that he is, and always will be, my son. My son, and not yours. I love him even more than you love yourself, you despicable spawn of hell. One day, his goodness will overcome yours, and you will come to regret every wicked moment of your life.

This will be my last entry, because I will be gone by morning.

As she finished these words, the paper fell from Runa’s hands. Her heart stuck in her throat. It really had been her last entry…but not because she had escaped. Her son was still here. And he was still trapped.

“Runa…”

She looked up. Torin’s wide eyes met hers. He was standing in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob.

“How…how did you find this place?”

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~ A/N ~

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