Blackened Read Online Free Page B

your Father is unwell. Charles' mind is a minefield. You can never be too careful around him and you most certainly cannot trust him. He is more often swayed by the devil on his shoulder than by the angel.
    Often, his mind would play tricks on him, tricks persuading him that you, Eddie and I were dangerous. That, perhaps, is why he was crying. He was probably afraid. One of his delusions probably took hold and made him concerned for his own safety.
    Indeed, though I loved him once, your Father has always been tinged with selfishness. He will always put himself first. This is what concerns me most; were he to get the idea that you were out to injure him...well, who knows what he would do to protect himself?
    As I said, his mind is a minefield, with each mine presenting a slightly different danger. 
    Please heed this warning Lisbeth. I care only for your safe passage through this difficult life.
    Lovingly,
Mama
     
     
    *
     
     
    Back in the cottage I pause outside Father's study. His quill scratches furiously. I move away and the floorboard creaks loudly. The scratching quill ceases. Silence.
    I freeze, my breathing turning shallow and fast.
    The scrape of a chair. He is getting up! Moving towards the door, towards me.
    I try to step away but my feet will not respond. I am rooted to the spot by thorns of fear. Rooted to the floorboard directly outside Father’s study. Driven down, helpless.
    Unable to flee, I wait with thundering heart for him to appear, but he does not. He stays on the other side in his room, his breathing slow and rattling. Serpent-like, he stands on the other side of the door, his body inches from mine separated only by a slice of wood, his stale breath flowing out of the small gap between the door and its frame. The door between us is my only protection.
    I try to swallow. Cannot. A bead of sweat trickles into my eye. My palms are moist and algid perspiration settles in my armpits. I cannot help but wonder what debauched things he might be thinking. I dare not move for fear that he will hear my foot upon the floorboard. If I move, he may dart out and grab me, drag me inside and…
    Abruptly, the door bangs shut and he locks it, making me jump.
    Swallowing thickly, I stand there for a few moments quivering uncontrollably. The sweat on my skin evaporates turning the cold air sour.
    Finally, I pull myself together and hurry upstairs to wake Eddie.
     

C HAPTER 4

B ETHAN
    Night comes. Father is in his study, Eddie is tucked in bed and I am outside waiting for Bethan to arrive.
    This night is tepid and the stars are shrouded. No hooting owl or fluttering bats, just darkness and pulsing shadows and strangling entrails and nude trees and licking grass.
    Peat explores the air. It is very very dark. Meek light escapes Blackened Cottage, but its journey is short-lived. It is so dark. Too dark by far.
    My resolve to stay until she comes begins to ebb. I am disappointed at myself but I am also afraid. Afraid of what, I know not. Consciously I know that it is silly, childish even, to be scared by shadows. There are no monsters or ghosts; it is all in my mind.
    Nonetheless, I cannot control my instinct to flee the darkness. The pressing, tightening sensation in my chest and the crushing pain in my temples warns that I can stay no longer.
    As I hurry back into the cottage, I hope Bethan will not be upset. I yank open the kitchen door and glance up into Bethan's dreadful face.
    “What are you doing in here? If Father sees you...”
    She laughs lightly and whispers, “I felt like giving you a little surprise! And it was worth it – you should see your face.”
    I shake my head. The stabbing pains in my skull are getting worse. Grabbing her forearm I drag her past Father's study, upstairs and into my bedroom. Hurriedly I shut us in and she helps me drag a heavy chest of drawers in front of the door.
    Laughing, Bethan collapses on the bed and wipes imaginary sweat off her brow.
    “How dramatic!” she