#reverend carson

[July 10th/1975-Evening]

Megan leans against the wall, phone in hand, fingers idly threading through the loops in the cable. She holds her breath as the other line is answered. "Hello?"

"Kurt." She says with a smile, relieved that he was the one to pick up, she hesitates not sure where to start...

"Megan? Are you there?" 

"Yeah I-, I want to see you tonight, meet me at home?" She closes her eyes, heart racing as the line goes quiet, the pause stretching uncomfortably before he cautiously responds. "Is he expected to come home late tonight?"

"Not here," she says, pushing away from the wall and taking the few steps the phone cord allowed, "my home, not Carson's house." She emphasized, hearing him shuffle around on the other end. "Right, of course... Should I bring anything, what's the plan here? Are we camping out in the backyard or...?" He doesn't quite finish the thought, she smiles as he settles her nerves effortlessly, she knows what he's thinking and somehow the idea of going through with all those things didn't seem so terrifying. Not compared to everything before that...

"Look just meet me there in an hour, we can talk more face to face." They hadn't had much of a chance to speak after their trip, Megan had barely spoken a word since, Carson and her don't really speak much anymore, he didn't need words to express his disdain, his presence heavy, smothering silence... Nothing had dissuaded her from her path... God knows she gave him every opportunity to subvert this course. "Kurt, everything's going to be different after tonight," she watches the distinctive flash of headlights moving across the front window, highlighting the destruction, "I promise, see you later okay."

She hangs up the phone, ready to make good on her promise... If she survives.

__

[July 10th/1975-Morning]

Megan gets up earlier than usual, shuffling around the kitchen, it felt important to have a good breakfast today, there wasn't much in the house, they were due to grocery shop tomorrow... She didn't want to be wasteful, cooking the sort of breakfast one would expect for an anniversary or for a parent on Mother's or Father's Day, when was the last time she celebrated that? 71' or was it earlier? She was barely old enough to help those last few years... She remembers she picked out a keychain with her siblings, what did it say? 'number one dad'. She believed that, he'd held onto it until the day he'd died.

Megan is torn from her thoughts as Carson moves behind her, taking something from the fridge before stopping to observe, her hands tremble as he shadows her, she adds a little more cooking oil, that's one thing they aren't short on, the bottle is nearly full... her eyes locked on sizzling bacon and egg yolks staring back at her like wide, wild orange eyes on the verge of bursting... The visceral image fills her mind as she focuses on the task at hand and he moves on from the kitchen.

She set things out in the dining room, he was sitting at the table waiting, he seemed torn between questioning what prompted such a full breakfast, and the smug sense of satisfaction that she'd come around to making amends for her actions last month. She sat across from him, eating and waiting... For what? Maybe she wanted to give him one last chance to say something, anything, that could salvage things but no words came. Even in painful silence, everything's fine so long as she behaves...

She watches him walk out the front door as she gathers up the plates. He didn't even thank her. She stood still, eyes clenched shut as she gripped his dirty plate tightly before throwing it at the wall as hard as she could. Hitting a painting hanging over the mantle with a loud crash. Megan looked at it, making no move to pick up the pieces and she felt... Lighter?

She throws her plate next, more deliberately taking out a vase of flowers. She catches herself grinning as she shatters Carson's favourite mug on the floor. Crunching under the soles of her shoes, she'll never sweep this floor again, she steps around the table into the living room, selecting a record from Carson's collection, dusting off the colourful sleeve before tearing the record out of it, snapping it in half, and another and another before she turned on the television, it didn't matter what was playing so long as it was loud... Everything was in order, she scans bookshelves, taking one at random and ripping all it's pages out, scattering them across the floor, pushing things off shelves like a troublesome cat. 

There'd be no backing out now so why hold back? 

Megan pictured the look on his face when he sets foot through the front door, deciding on a whim to run up to his room and raid his wardrobe, dumping the majority of his clothes out downstairs, taking great joy on cutting them to shreds. It was a days work, soon joy burnt away to pure methodical destruction, and then rage... Rage at the life she had been forced to live, at everything and everyone she'd lost, at a world that dared to have Leonard Carson in it while other people move on from her family's deaths, at the expectation that she should too...

She sits on the now torn up couch catching her breath after it all. Everything she truly cares to keep is stored away in the shed, the hardest thing was choosing which clothes to keep, everything else was certain. She pushes herself to her feet, walking towards the staircase again, Kurt's baseball bat is sat on her now cleared bedside table, she'd have to return it to him later. She enters Carson's room again, taking his darkest secret and feeling more conviction than ever as she clutches the tainted bible, this is who he is, not the neat facade downstairs, she walks through the destroyed house, setting the old book down as she picks up the phone and dials a number she knows off by heart.

__

[July 7th/1975-3 days prior]

The drive back into town had been quiet, Glenn idled out front until Megan got back inside. As soon as she was alone again the weight became too crushing, she fell to her knees the second the front door was shut behind her. She didn't have time for this... If Carson saw her like this, if he knew where she'd been. She's not ready. Megan forces herself to her feet, she'd planned ahead to throw something all but ready to eat in the oven and clean herself up before Carson could be any the wiser.

She knew she was cutting things close, as she set everything up in the kitchen and raced up stairs to wash up. Megan scrubbed her face harshly, having yet to learn a better way to remove makeup. It was a challenge to remove the admission stamp from her wrist, skin burning from the water and stinging from the effort. The pain brought her back down to earth and she reluctantly steps out of the shower, wiping the steam from the mirror. Seeing herself, wet and flushed from the heat, black strands of hair sticking to her face and neck, curling down her shoulders and further, it could not have been a greater contrast from earlier in the day. She thought of that frightened girl in the fortune teller's crystal ball, looking at herself like this she drops her arms to the side, letting the tension leave her body and her face fall to a more neutral expression. She could be a woman in body and mind and have all the things women were supposed to have... but only if the scared little girl goes far far away.

Megan dresses, coming down stairs to find Carson already home, having intervened in the kitchen, the food was only slightly burnt but that didn't stop him from giving her an ear full about leaving the oven unattended... Not that she could make sense of a word he said, she was exhausted.

That night she laid in bed thinking of all the woman had said and how she would do it, feeling very little as she drifted off in the early hours of the morning. When she woke again she searched through the house for a place to keep her things. Contemplating what she must do, coming to terms with it as much as she was able... and waiting, for what? An out? That moment of clarity on which to act?

Megan bides her time... She'll know it when she sees it.

__

 [July 10th/1975-Present]

Megan steps away from the phone as the headlights shut off. Burying a matchbox in her pocket and taking the tainted bible from the counter as the front door swings open. Carson freezes in the doorway, keys dropping from his hands as he's faced with the state of his house...

He barely pulls the door shut behind him as he looks around with wider eyes than Megan had ever seen, before he sees her... and the book in her hands. His eyes narrow as he steps further into the house, rage washing over him. "What have you done?"

"I'm not spending another second under your thumb," She says keeping her voice steady as she maintains eye contact with him. "I'd rather die," she opens the book to a random page covered in heretical symbols, running her fingers across for thin paper until it wrinkles, "you might have everyone else fooled, 'Father', but not me. Reverend 'Carver'."

She tore out a handful of pages, throwing them in his direction to emphasize the comparison. "You ungrateful little- after everything I've done for you!?"

"'What you've done for me?' What exactly have you done except prop yourself up by being so damn 'selfless', so 'charitable', but you needed me to stay just wretched enough so people in this godforsaken town would pity how hard you had it-"

"Enough!" He stalks closer to her, "You think this was easy? I have never let you go without, I have met all your needs, you expect me to give in to every childish whim, you cry about being so hard done by because I refuse to stand by and let you run rampant with that boy, is that it?" He seizes her by the shoulders, nails digging painfully into her skin as he backs her against the wall. She clutches the old book close to her chest, as she bites back the instinct to fall in line, to swallow the consequences and beg for mercy that he'd already promised wouldn't come. But she couldn't do that, not after everything she'd done. It was like her body was moving on its own as she swung the book against his face hard enough for him to let go. "This isn't about him, it never was and you know it!" Megan ducked under his arms and threw the book in his direction without looking as she darts upstairs.

Megan slams her bedroom door, unable to shut it fully before Carson is at the other side. Throwing her full weight into it, trying to brace against the door as he starts beating on it with his fists, yelling at her. "Get back here you-" Megan doesn't catch the rest as she's thrown back from the force of the door being kicked in. Her head hitting the floor. She doesn't even see her split lip nor the blood from her scratched up arms in the mirror as she scrambles across the room, crawling on hands and knees. Kurt's bat clatters to the ground as she fails to reach it, hands unsteady. 

"Up!" He barks cruelly, Megan takes it from the floor, as his hand comes down hard on the back of her neck, holding onto the wooden handle so hard her fingers ache as she's hauled to her feet. She kicks at his shin hard enough to take him off guard, breaking out of his grasp. Swinging on him she screams. "I'm not afraid of you anymore!" She cries as the first blow connects with his arm as he defends his head. "I don't care if it kills me!" The second lands squarely in his stomach. "I'd even accept eternal damnation!" The third splinters over his head as he doubles over. "I'll drag you to hell myself!" She yells desperately as he crumples to the floor.

Carson catches her ankle as she tries to step over him, causing her to stumble, but she maintains her balance as she flees from the room, cracked bat in hand. Megan bolts down the hallway, but Carson recovers faster than expected, running off god knows what demonic energy. She cries out in surprise as he grabs one of her braids, yanking her towards him and grabbing the bat with his other hand. "You'll regret trying to fight me." He hisses painfully. "Stop this petulant tantrum this instance!"

She struggles against him but he's so much stronger than her, easily ripping the baseball bat from her hands, tossing it down the stairs. Megan desperately grabs the closest thing she could, flinging it over her head with all her might. She pulls away as the vase shatters against his skull. Shoving him as hard as possible. Carson grasps for her, pawing at her, leaving long scratches down her arms as he fails to maintain his already unsteady balance. She clings to the railing fighting for breath as he tumbles... Staring at him on the floor. Heart pounding painfully in her chest but the pain has little time to settle in as the sight of him moving sets a fire in her veins and she descends as careful as she can. Megan runs past him, stumbling on the debris on her way to the kitchen. Taking the cooking oil and dashing back to the living room entrance, she stops, staring at him across the room, dead on his feet, covered in cuts, bruises blooming rapidly, nose bloodied, an arm hanging just slightly wrong by his side. She stands firm, legs trembling beneath her as the glass bottle leaves her hand, thrown with everything she has. Her heart stops as it shatters over his head, the contents spilling over him, splashing upon the floor, he's disoriented but doesn't go down. He steps back into a bookshelf near the fireplace and she doesn't waste the opportunity, rushing over and pulling the shelf until it falls on top of him. Pinning him in place.

She steps in front of him, keeping herself at arms length as she looks down on him, the glass had sliced up his face, blood pouring from a hundred tiny cuts, a gash somewhere on his scalp and a larger cut across his cheek mixing with his busted nose... He looked pathetic. "It's over for you," she says slightly above a whisper as he struggles under the shelf. "you can't bury this, you can't stand in front of the church and pretend this didn't happen..." He barely pushes himself to his elbows, his hand coming up to touch his destroyed face, she looks down on the blood soaked crown of his head as he pulls his shaky hand away, awash in red. "You..." He breathes out raggedly, craning his head up to stare at her, eyes full of malice. "I should have smothered you during your illness, or drowned you in the tub in those early days," Megan feels frozen to her core, burying her hands in her pockets, eyes blurring at the edges. The thought alone chills her soul... "Poor wretched orphan girl, passing in time to be thrown in the earth with the rest of her dammed family."

"Who would've been any the wiser?" Her breath catches and her eyes sting as he continues spitting his bile, she pulls the matchbox from her pocket with shaking hands. "I should have killed you!"

She slides the box open, pulling a match out... She blinks away tears, pain catching up to her she catches his hand inching towards the iron poker, she strikes the match and his hand stills. "Megan?" He says her name desperately as his face dissolves into terror. "You know I don't mean that, I wouldn't-" his hand reaches out, too close to her already stinging ankle for comfort, flame steadying her hands as she steps back.

"You know I would never hurt you." 

He bargains in the face of reality, as if either of them could take back the things they'd driven the other to, the only thing they share now is the bloody mouths of cruel wolves and lambs that dare to bite back... Megan feels far away as the match slips through her fingers, like it had nothing to do with her as it hit the oil soaked debris, lighting in an instant, she stands there as the fire engulfs his torn sleeves, tearing up his arms. Flames eating his skin and hair, he flails trapped, screaming in agony, frantically clawing the floorboards as if he had a chance, as the fire spreads out across the room. She doesn't move until it laps at her feet... 

She steps away from him as the curtains catch and the ceiling is blackened and the roaring flames drown out his wailing until his voice dies down. Megan takes in the chaos, feeling... calm. Wondering to herself if it was like this for her family, she forces herself upstairs, grabbing the broken bat on the way. She swears she hears them when she reaches the top of the stairs, looking around like she expects to see them, somewhere in the fire, this is how it was supposed to go? Her burning to death at the top of the stairs? 'Megan you have to get out of there now!' She thought she heard Anthony calling her to escape and runs back through her room to the window pulling it open and climbing outside. She nearly misses the branch on the way down, slightly slowing her fall. Hitting the dirt hard and rolling over onto her back, she sees flame burst through the open window and she laughs as she lays there. It's over. She's free. She nearly sobs as she's overtaken by hysterical laughter until her throat hurts, mesmerised by the sight. 

Megan sits up as the tree starts to catch fire, she picks up the bat handle, broken in half now... Dragging herself to the back shed, she collects a long bag full of everything she owns, slinging it over her sore shoulders and taking one long last look through the living room window, unable to even see where Carson's body lay as the ceiling collapses in on itself... She holds onto the bat tightly, she has to return it to Kurt, she thinks, recalling that he's waiting for her, she leaves to go home. 

To Kurt.

__

Megan runs through the yard, through the open door of her home and into Kurt's waiting arms, she kisses him, deeply, truly joyful about how no one will ever hurt them again. She feels his arms around her, soaks up his warmth as she holds him closer than she ever had. She never would have dared to dream of being so openly intense with her affection for him but she's free now, and they don't have to hide or sneak around. His arms slide to her shoulders and he pulls away, she leans back in to kiss him again but he steps back, causing her to look up into his fearful face. "Megan? Is that blood? I-" he touches his own mouth in shock, voice trembling a little, "I can see the smoke from here, what happened? You're hurt." 

"It's okay," she smiles, speaking softly as she touches his cheek, "it's all over now." He looks confused, stepping back to run his fingers through his hair anxiously. "What? Oh God what is Carson going to do when he finds out his house got burnt down?" He looks down at the broken bat which she'd dropped to the floor on her way in before she takes both his hands. He turns back to her as she breaks the good news. "He's dead."

"Dead?" Kurt asks as if he misheard her, Megan let's go of his hands as she bends down to pick up the pieces of the bat and holds them out to him. "I'm sorry I broke it, I know it was your brother's..." Megan felt bad about damaging something so important to Kurt as he takes the pieces, putting them back together like they should be before suddenly dropping them like they were electrified. "Megan please tell me it's not true," he takes her hands again. "He's not dead, or... It was an accident, it had nothing to do with you."

"No?" Megan doesn't understand, "Carson's dead, I killed him." She feels her heart drop at the horrified look in his eyes, she pulls away from him as he shakes his head. "No, no, it's not true, you didn't, you couldn't.... Why would you do this?"

"So we can be free, it was the only way." She wraps her arms around herself as she pleads for him to understand. "We always said we would runaway from this place, Kurt, there was no other option!" She raises her voice sharply as he looks like he's going to be sick. "You could have come to stay with us, you could have-"

"I tried to ask, remember? You said your grandparents wouldn't like it." He stopped and stared at her, processing the seemingly inconsequential moment... "Megan... We can't just leave, what about Jen? What about Jo- she's gonna be a mom soon, we can't just leave?"

"They'll be fine!" She snaps unintentionally, "You said yourself that Jen's mom is closer now, Glenn and Jo have this baby thing figured out. I need you... You promised me." She begins to choke up, she doesn't even look at him when he speaks again after a minute. "We can fix this, Megan you have to tell the police that this was any accident, that- that it was self defence and things got out of hand. Please, there are people who care about you, one day we'll have all those things, when we're older, please." He begs as she shakes her head. "No, no no, you don't know what it's like, people already think I killed my family on purpose, no one is going to believe that, I can't live like this! I can't stay here!"

"Megan..." She backs up against the wall hiding her face in her hands, as he reaches out to hold her "I love you!" He pulls her tight to his chest, repeating his confession as if it would make everything bad go away. "I love you more than anything, I've always loved you." She sobs, her face burried in his chest, her arms are trapped between them. "You don't know me at all-" she cuts herself off with a painful sob, everything hurts, why won't he understand? Why did he ever indulge her? She tries to move but he holds her tighter. He's whispering something to her now but she can't hear him. Her body aches more and more. She feels trapped, pressed between the wall and him, his fingers lightly touch her hair in a soothing manner and she is afraid. She doesn't understand what he expects her to do, she can't stay in a place where she'll never be anything more than a wretched thing, where she can only ever be a monster or less than... She struggles to breathe as she begins to panic, thinking for a terrible moment that it would have been better if she died. Tonight? All those years ago? She wanted to scream, she couldn't take it any more. She needs to get far far away.

 She needs to escape. 

Megan doesn't quite understand what she did but suddenly Kurt was on the ground, and she was staring down at the crown of his blond head as his hands struggle against the unstable floor for balance and as he touches his bloody face and Megan felt sick. She looks down at her hands, still bloody scratches down her arms, fearing that Kurt would look at her the way Carson had. That he was right about her. She couldn't see him like that. It would kill her if his kind brown eyes looked at her with such hate.

...so she ran.

She didn't look back, she couldn't dare, she went as fast as her battered body would carry her, didn't even know where she was going until she found herself collapsing in front of her family's graves. She turns her head to them as she lay in the dirt... Tanya was the only one to get flowers anymore... She wishes she knew who cared about her that much, she digs her fingers into the dirt, as if she could close her eyes and be with them again, she wishes she could tell them she was sorry for everything... It was all her fault and there's nothing she could do about it. She lays still as if the earth would claim her stiff body, until she hears someone approaching...

 She's too exhausted to move as a gentle hand brushes over her head. She opens her eyes unsure of how much time had passed to the see a middle aged woman with long curly hair knelt beside her. Eliza has that knowing look and Megan wants to lash out at the Witch for her guidance but she's too weak... The woman hadn't told her to do anything, just that she must accept the risks and consequences... Megan doesn't fight as the woman pulls her into a warm hug, letting the blood and tears soak her chest as she offers Megan something she hasn't had in a long time.

"I'll be your mother from now on, I'll take you away and this place will crumble into ruin and fade from your mind before you ever have to see it again," Megan looks up at her sniffling, bag still slung over her shoulder as the woman helps her to her feet. She looks genuine, cupping Megan's face between her hands. "You're my daughter, you understand? My precious daughter." She pulls Megan back into her warm coat and Megan raises her tired arms around her, she'd almost forgotten what that maternal warmth was like... 

As exhaustion overcame her and her mind went blank she felt truly safe for the first time in longer than she could say... Megan was finally leaving Little Hope behind her, it didn't really matter if the dying town thought her innocent or guilty... The last of the Clarkes was finally laid to rest, the family tragedy complete as the little girl goes far far away.

_end of era.

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[Mid May/1975]

Megan sits in the dark living room, knees drawn to her chest on the couch as she watches the fire, every candle she could find lit in the absence of artificial lighting... wax slowly runs down the side of a candle stick. The power had cut out a few hours prior, the night still, no wind or rain, no clear reason why. She lifts her head as headlights cast moving shadows across the room but she doesn't go to meet him at the door.

If even a single candle were to fall...

The front door opens, Carson enters again, more frustrated than last time, he tosses his keys with little concern as they skid across the table, falling to the floor. Megan turns towards him as he sits a bag on the table, running a hand slowly over his face and through his hair. "This rotten town," he hisses quiet discontent as she stands, Megan hadn't wanted to cook in the dark, "crumbling around us, so taken by vice... the church barely fills enough pews to justify keeping the lights on and now..." He grimaces, his face hard in sharp shadows, hiding part of him in the harsh orange candle light. She takes a heavy candlestick from the mantle, focusing on the flame and the slow red wax as she sets it on the table, afraid to shift the weight between them. He'd returned back late after work to a dark house and nothing to eat, greasy food from some place out of town sat on the table...

"I'm sorry." She says like it's her fault that the power is out and he'd had to go out again on top of his regular commute. Megan looks away from him, the fireplace blazing, she fears she has little appetite, fears his reaction if she rejects the food. He lets out a huff, sitting across from her, the house uncomfortably warm, the crackling fire prominent in the stillness. "No, don't apologise, I won't risk you setting the kitchen alight." Something digs sharply into her at his words, his face seems hollow and tired and yet... softer than it had been. "I don't like this," his voice stern as she quietly picks at the food. "I don't like it when you've no choice but to interact with fire." Megan freezes, they don't talk about that night, she looks down at her plate, nails digging into the palm of her hand to distract herself, she focuses on the smell of smoke and fried food, the cracking flicker of flame and the growing bead of shiny wax clinging to dull metal, she wants nothing more than to retreat but stays still, listening to him move across from her before he speaks again. "Sometimes I wonder how long this place will justify the commute... Megan, look at me." He reaches across for her spare hand, prompting her to obey, he looks her in the eyes very seriously. "I understand that you have complicated feelings towards Little Hope, that it's all you've ever known but... you could be happier elsewhere, if you allow yourself to." he grabs her hand more tightly before she could pull away. "What does that mean?" She tries to keep the panic out of her voice as she attempts to shrink away from this conversation. 

"It's just a thought but... You could be just my daughter,  no one has to know anything," she looks back to the fire, blurring together in a way that made the room itself appear to burn... She blinked away the starting of tears as he stands, still holding her hand, his other hand tilts her head to reestablish eye contact, his light touch unnerves her, the way he looks at her like it's really real and they really have that type of relationship disgusts her, "It's just a thought, nothing more but I want you to consider it, I could be around more without the extra hours of driving, it could be a fresh start." 

Her stomach turns at the idea, she's wanted nothing more than to put Little Hope behind her for longer than she could ever admit, to be somewhere people don't whisper about her, no pity nor condemnation, but not like this. Not as just his daughter. Not with him, never with him. His fingers remain under her chin as he leans closer to regain her drifting attention but the lights flicker on and he steps back, looking up at the brightened room, releasing her and smiling for a moment. "You don't even know what my job is do you?" She hesitates not wanting to dissuade him from the notion that she's anything close to deserving of his ire but she'll be caught in her lie if she pretends. He scoffs, shaking his head at the way the truth is written all over her face. "I suppose it doesn't really matter how a roof is kept over your head," he shrugs sarcastically at her lack of curiosity about his day to day life, crossing his arms. 

"Do something about all these candles if you would, it's hot as hell in here." He says putting out the fireplace, she stands trying to pretend that he hadn't said all that, it's just a thought, it doesn't really exist, she put out the candles, estinguishing the flames one by one once she's all alone. Opening the windows to clear the air, he'd finished and not questioned her leftovers. As she takes the candle from the table last, reluctantly blowing it out, wax drips onto the back of her hand as the candle tilts. At first she didn't register it as she returned the candlestick to it's place but the small blood like drop on her skin drags her abruptly into the present.

Megan stares, breath catching as she bites down the need to cry out, not wanting him to rush back to her. She grabs her wrist tightly to steady her shaking hands as she makes her way to the kitchen sink, taking a deep breath as she braces herself on the edge before running cool water over her hands. Shutting her eyes, that blurry image comes to mind, for that moment she could see her self surrounded by fire again and when she opened her eyes for just a moment she envisioned her hands covered in blood.

__

A few days pass and the subject of leaving Little Hope doesn't come up again, she struggles through the sunday service with the practiced mask of a true believer, finding precious little time between the end and when Carson can get away from the few people who still look to him as any sort of authority, finding Kurt behind the church and maybe if they were seen the stories would be more scandalous than two friends in this ambiguous haze between more and her own doubts. Some days her only friend goes away to his loved ones and she wish she could be a part of that but here she sits in an empty house, unable to strip the Reverends's presence in his absence from the home, like a stubborn stain in the flooring...

She sits alone in his house, in his room, on his bed, where she is little more than gathering dust as she holds that terrible thing. The holy word of God scrawled in sacrilegious symbols like the witch priest of old Little Hope, along with his seperate notes folded inbetween the pages, about himself, about her and the church and those long gone, she tries to read the verses underneath and comes up with only broken words and unrecognisable sentences... And when she tries to picture that evil man who accused, cursed and killed his way through every obstacle in 'god's name' she can only see him, Leonard Carson, as that man, and when she thinks of all that happened far far away in the late 17th century, she thinks of that little girl and imagines that the town would burn her too if they knew her thoughts and feelings... If they knew that she wasn't quite sure what she believed anymore and she blames him.

It was never this hard as a child because her parents really believed what they were teaching but for the first time she stops looking away from the fact that Reverend Carson is a witch, a liar and hypocrite who uses the guise of conviction to spread his true faith, only different to the child burning Reverend Carver in his inability to control anything other than herself... Maybe he would burn her too, maybe she would burn him first... If she goes to hell for his blasphemous teachings stealing away her innocent faith then she wouldn't let him escape, she couldn't be like that girl, forced to play a role in service of a corrupt man's image. All The affection he claims to have for her is nothing more than vanity, she reflects, shutting the tainted bible and carefully returns it to its place behind his headboard so that he would be none the wiser... 

Megan briefly thinks to collect clippings from his latest haircut, following his own instructions to curse him, to 'let him win' by taking on the corrupting nature but she stops herself, not because she's above it. She lightly touches the small healing burn on her hand. No, to her great discomfort she finds that she's already there... 

No, she couldn't, because he would know.

__

[Late May/1975]

In the weeks since Kurt's birthday Megan has been playing catch with him, she'd lost both of her front teeth the last time she'd done this... Mom had been furious at the time but looking back no punishment would have matched Anthony's guilt, He'd snuck her some of his ice cream well after her adult teeth came in out of shame for it... She can't say the experience endeared her to baseball but she wants Kurt to know that his interests are important to her too. Wants to help him practice and spend time doing something he likes.

So she throws the ball and he hits it and she runs around trying to catch it and on occasion it's the other way around and that seems to make him happy enough but not today. "She just showed without any warning," Kurt shrugs, frustrated over his aunt's surprise attendance at Jen's 10th birthday last Saturday on the 24th "She acted like she was expected and got Jen this ugly dress that looks like it came out of the museum, or that lame prairie show no one actually watches." He describes the dress with visible disdain as she throws the ball again. "She used to live here, she has to know that Jen can't be expected to actually wear that, she'd be practically begging to be bullied if she did." he hits the ball harder and she just barely dashes to catches it. Stumbling in the process as she manages to keep up. "What did Jen do?" 

"She thanked her, but like she was a distant relative and not her actual mom... the worst part is that it wasn't even the right size and it was dark green, I don't know if I could pretend to be happy with that." Megan looked at him with the glove on her hand and the ball in the other, if this woman had known her own daughter at all she would know what colours she likes and what she hates, she should know her... It's a nice day behind the house, a bird flies from the tree near her window and she looks at her feet to avoid saying everything on her mind. "So do you think she'll be around more?" Kurt had mentioned that his aunt's job had transferred her in state, the distance would be considerably smaller now, she could visit more. "Maybe, I just... I don't want Jen to get hurt if it doesn't happen," Megan holds her tongue, not wanting to make it about herself by pointing out that Jen at least still has a living parent, throwing the ball and letting him vent. Kurt sighs continuing. "Dad and Her are just the same," Kurt sends the ball flying in his frustration, "she knew how hard it was when he left for work but she still-" 

The sound of shattering glass sharply interrupts him. "Shit!" He almost drops the bat, he'd broken a window in the back garden shed, Megan drops the glove running to him, trying to calm him down. "Father Leonard is going to kill me." She shakes her head, taking his hand and turning his face to hers, "No he won't, he never goes near the shed, he doesn't have to know." Kurt takes a deep breath but still seems shaken up, Megan continues to reassure him, pulling him by the hand as she pushes the old shed door open. "We'll be okay, sometimes I hide stuff out here, he's never found out."

Kurt laughs a little nervously, setting down his baseball bat as she flicks on the light. "Well maybe we should just hideout here," he takes her other hand, jokingly saying. "They'd never think to look for us here." She smiles, swinging their arms like they were dancing to lighten his mood before He steps back, losing his footing on a stray shard of glass, pulling them both down with a thud. She can't help but laugh, holding on to him on the grimy concrete floor, he sits up unscathed if a little flustered and she can't help but wish that it was that simple. "I used to think that about my home, that if I just stayed put I could pretend I still lived there... but we can't hide forever."

"Megan I..." He looks away for a moment, concern written all over his face and she knows she's ruined the moment. She leans back, releasing his hands, unsure how to fix it but then she spots the baseball, tucked away in a corner behind him. She reaches past him to get it with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it, it's going to be okay, just like I said it would be." He smiles back, accepting the ball before suddenly remembering something and digging through his pockets to present her with a folded up flier, that reads 'Harum Scarum: sideshow spectacular' in big bold letters across the top. The image of a beautiful fortune teller with long curly hair and sharp eyes stares directly at her from the page. "I saw these all over town when I was at Glenn and Jo's, the sideshow will be out that way from the end of June through to July."

"Carson would never agree to that." She says pulling him to his feet but already she can't help but get caught up in the excitement at the prospect. "He doesn't have to know." Kurt retorts and she laughs, hand in hand, "I've trained you well."

__

[Early June/1975]

The first time Carson took her to the town he works in it was to buy groceries, the list of essentials the local whitmart didn't stock anymore had gotten too long and he stubbornly wanted her to see how far his commute is and she assumes how much time and money they could save if they moved. A tiny part of her that only exists in small children and animals pushes her to bolt in the unfamiliar place, but she knows better, so she loads the cart while listening to the songs playing on the intercom more than him and she imagines how she would disappear amongst all those people, imagines the light and sound, the music and performances she would witness in a month and it didn't end there, in the long ride back to Little Hope she desperately lived in that escapism.

On a whim she moves more of her things to the shed, Carson attempts to play friendly with her but she's smarter than that, she won't risk having him take advantage of the increased time he's around her to trick her into thinking he wouldn't go through her things just as punitively as ever. One day she works up the nerve to pick the lock on his filing cabinet, finding all the letters that were addressed to her, for birthday's and holidays, some relatives were more diligent in their correspondence than others... The return addresses must have been on the original envelopes, try as she might she finds no way to contact any of them, so she sits in the living room reading every word they'd commited to ink, some addressed to her and some to him and she can't say for sure what he wrote back, if he wrote back...

One after the other she takes it all in and she feels... Quiet inside, she should feel but... The gaping chasm between herself and her extended family broadens card after card, she tries to remember, she hadn't seen them in...? She wasn't sure how long, what must she be like to them? A blurry memory of a girl who doesn't exist anymore? They write like she's older but frozen, like she must be just the same despite it all, unwilling to cause upset by talking about how whoever she was going to be died all those years ago and she feels it boiling inside but not anger, it was more like... Grief?

Tears run down her face, heat filling her up and threatening to spill over, she has cried for her family, for the parents she lost and the ones she never knew, for her siblings and how it could have been if she got to be older with them... but this? Burning tears fall uncontrollably as she's struck by fresh, illogical grief... For herself?

__

[June 16th/1975]

"What did you wish for?" Kurt asked as Megan blew out a single, hastily relit, candle on an already cut cake, Carson had rushed the whole thing on his way out the door this morning and Kurt agreed that it doesn't count. She smiles coyly, digging into a slice. "The same thing I wish for every year." Kurt rolls his eyes, sitting across from her, a nervousness to him. "And that would be?" She slides a plate of cake to him, the image comes easily to her, she pictures herself, hair flowing freely in the breeze, vast sky above, smokey wisps of clouds floating away... It feels like... Freedom. "For Carson to drop dead." She jokes.

"Come on, Megan, I was asking seriously." He laughs and she finds his smile contagious, the cake tastes all the sweeter with him, she keeps the spoon in her mouth, like she's thinking long and hard about her actual answer. "I was thinking about the future." She says thoughtfully, in truth it was some version of her able to stand on her own, she used to wish for her family in that future but she can't reconcile that blurry image in her mind... Kurt rests his chin on his free hand. "Describe it to me, am I in it?" He asks with certainty that he is while they both know his ability to plan ahead doesn't extend past the Harum Sacrum trip in a few weeks time. "Maybe," she teases as she finishes her cake, "but if I tell you it'll muck it all up, besides, I don't recall hearing what you wished for on your birthday."

He raises his hands in front of himself like he'd been caught as he gets up from his chair. "You got me, but I think I have a few more cards up my sleeve," Megan gets up to follow him as he he takes something from his backpack in the living room, "Happy birthday." He says handing her a small wrapped gift, the shiny paper has Christmas motifs of holly and stars, Kurt had clearly wrapped it with the first thing he could find, warmth spread through her chest as she tore the wrapping away to reveal the cover of a TS Hartley book, she'd seen it advertised in the back of a different volume but it hadn't been available in the school library, she remembers her defeat over failing to find it anywhere in town, but... he'd found it for her. Megan throws her arms around him in a tight hug, her lips crashing against his cheek in gratitude. Kissing him as she feels his hands on her arms, but when she pulls away he seems... Unsure?

"Megan," she steps back, uncertainty flowing through her as she holds onto the book, "I need to know what this is too you," he looks away, a little flustered, that was the closest they'd come to a second kiss since... "If it's just friendship, if it's not going anywhere, I... I just don't want to be led on." Megan's heart starts racing, entirely unprepared to talk about everything today, she wants to tell him what she's said before, that she wants things to stay exactly the same but she knows she can't, god himself would have run out of patience with her by now... She knows this would be one time too many, now that she'd given him something as unambiguous as a kiss on the cheek. "It's not like that." She manages, holding the book tightly to keep herself grounded as she tries not to mess it all up. 

"What is it like?" Kurt asks, trying to keep his voice calm, as he realises he'd upset her but there's no backing out of this conversation now. "Carson would never allow it." she defends, trying to explain herself but he takes a deep breath, running a hand through his blond hair. "That's never stopped you before." He points out the obvious, he's perfectly aware of how often she goes behind the Reverend's back, usually with him specifically but he doesn't understand, she tries desperately to think of a way that would make him understand what she's dealing with and then it hits her. Carson is a witch. She smiles to his confusion. "You're right... actually I've got something to show you but we have to trust each other." 

"Okay, I can do that." He says, the smile returning to his face with a playful sense of curiosity as she sits the book down and takes him by the hand, leading him upstairs. They went past her room straight into Carson's. Megan let go of Kurt's hand as she flipped the light on and approached the bed without looking back at him. She heard the door shut behind her as she sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning forward to better see behind the headboard. "Are you sure about this?" Kurt asks carefully but before she can process what he was asking she feels him sit on the opposite side of the bed, Megan nearly jumps out of her skin in surprise as he lightly takes her free hand. She freezes, looking at him, seeing the unexpected flaw in her plan. The look on his face is nervous and expectant of an answer, she doesn't pull her hand away from his, says nothing as she considers how to approach this situation she's walked herself into... Kurt would be absolutely shattered, she sits back against the headboard, the proof is right there, but... She holds his hand a little tighter as he shifts closer, she doesn't want him to think she's rejecting him, not even for a second, she wants this. She does. She nods deciding to explain everything after...

 "I'm certain." She confirms, relief visibly washes over him, she shifts to make a little more space as he leans in, lightly touching her cheek before she closes her eyes, the kiss barely more than a slight press of lips, as if making sure before she wraps an arm around his neck to steady herself, prompting him to continue. The last time she just stood there not really doing anything, she's not exactly certain what she's supposed to do so she tries to do it like it's done in fiction, which helps a little, she feels his hand tangle in her pigtail slightly, the other finding it's way to her waist. Kurt leans over her more, stopping to look down at her... If either had anything to say to the other it had long since fled their minds, her heart beat too loudly for the presence of thought and she could have sworn she almost heard his too as she took his face in her hands and continued, opening her mouth a little like in the movies... Kurt liked that a lot and reciprocated as her hand went into his messed up hair. Megan leans back comfortably until she's fully resting against the pillows and let's her mind drift so much so that she almost didn't hear the door open-

She sits bolt upright, unwittingly shoving Kurt off, sending him tumbling to the floor in the process. Megan's eyes lock onto Carson's in the doorway. Rage simmering within him in realisation of what he is witnessing, unable to look away as Kurt scrambles to his feet. "F-Father Leonard-" he starts, Megan won't turn her head, won't see him scared and dishevelled, "It's not what it looks like-" his desperate pleading cut short as the Reverend raises a hand to silence him, not even looking at him as he speaks. "You." He points to Kurt who timidly approaches him, Megan hides her face in her hands as Carson roughly grabs his shoulder, the door slamming hard enough to rattle a framed bible verse on the wall. She doesn't move an inch as Kurt's marched down stairs, no yelling echoes as they leave the house, the front door sends a further shock through the bones of the old house. The frame falls to the floor and she gets to her feet with her heart in her throat as she looks down at the verse staring up at her, John 8:7... Her trembling fingers pick up the frame. Undamaged. Her memory recalls the verse and it's context in cruel mockery as she returns it the the wall... As if it would spare her.

She steps back, turning to the door. Not knowing if she should stay put, waiting for Carson to return, her body is full of ice from her finger tips to the soles of her feet, in her lungs and upon her lips, warmth chased away by his cold deadened eyes. Her stomach churns as she knows how long it takes to drive to Kurt's house and when twice that time passes she fears for him, but not as much as she does herself... Swallowing down the dread she approaches the door, in her mind he'd be on the other side as she opened it but the house is empty. She crept like a small thing down the empty hall, locking herself in her room would not save her. Step by bitter step she knows the truth would be worse, Carson could not know what she had intended... But what is she to do? She stands at the bottom of the stairs, part of her justifying that she was merely a bystander to the situation she had created, that it wasn't her intention but she can't plead innocence without guilt falling all on Kurt's head, the thought alone nearly causes her to retch, she takes a few deep breaths, putting the thought out of her mind.

Megan clears the mess from the table, taking the dishes to the sink, she drops a plate, cracking it down the middle, causing her to be ill, leaning over the sink for a minute before pushing herself to clean herself up and pick up the pieces, throwing them into the trash. She steps into the living room, Kurt's backpack is gone but his gift remains, she wants to take it, quickly hiding it away but there's no time as Carson pulls back into the driveway and she freezes again. 

She straightens up as he steps through the front door, closing it eerily calm, her heart drops as he turns to her, all pretence that he'd ever had love for her stripped away, she instinctively steps back as he approaches. "Don't move." He commands sternly, barely an arms length from her, she wants to look away, but she fears giving him anything less than her full attention. 

"Do you think you can talk your way out of this?" She cranes her head to maintain eye contact as he looms over her. "I should have seen it sooner, the way you risked life and reputation to claw your way into that boy's room... I took pity on you then, foolishly believing you could be fixed." He says it with disgust, as if she's too broken or too feral, as if he saw some abborant part of her that he'd tried to carve out of her. She trembles on the spot, arms wrapped around herself, nails digging into her own flesh, painfully grounding her.

"But I see you now, taking advantage of my better nature while you take pleasure in humiliating me, degrading the very core of my house... of everything I stand for!" She can't help but step back as he gets in her personal space. He grabs her wrist, leaving searingly painful scratches as her hand is torn away from her arm, "Letting that boy fuck you, in my bed no less," she winces at the sharp sting in her arm, his grip bruising, "who else?"

"I didn't-" 

"Don't lie to me." He shuts down her pleas, yanking her forward so she stumbles into him. "Who else has have you brought to this house?" She puts her free hand against his shoulder to steady herself. "No, no one else!" She raises her voice defensively as he lets go of her, she cradles her sore wrist as he takes a deep breath turning away he stills. She stares at his back, nerves knotting up, twisting and fraying. He reaches down and takes something off the table, she tenses more than she knew she could as he turns back with the book Kurt gifted her in hand, he scoffs disdainfully. "'Shroud of innocence'," he reads the title with disgust, as if it perfectly encapsulates her, Megan's heart beats rapidly as he stalks over to the fireplace, taking matches from between the candles on the mantle. Striking one and lighting a fire he turns to her book in hand. "Well?"

The fire begins to crackle in the momentary silence. "It was just a kiss..." She confesses in a small voice, trying not to cry. "A 'kiss'? I explicitly forbade you from going near that boy!" She jumped as he yelled at her, "you deliberately went behind my back and you expect me to believe that's 'all' that happened!?" He throws the book into the fireplace, Megan wants to beg him to take it out before it's destroyed, wants to beg him to believe her, wants to run away and disappear, he stokes the flames with a an iron poker, burning up the book, pages never turned, turning black as she tries to breathe, keeping a lid on the inevitable breakdown lest she damns herself further... 

He turns to her, poker clenched white knuckled as he stares at her, eyes furious, he is all there is in her vision, blurriness encroaching on the edge of her eye, her heart pounds painfully in her head, as he takes another deep breath. "Kurt Mathis," as ever he says the name like a curse, "I knew he was a bad influence, I knew it," he shakes his head, "I thought the sister could be a positive force, she was such a sweet girl, so well liked, from a respectable family." He scoffs, the thought of the tutoring Jo short changed him on comes to mind as the fire casts grotesque shadows over his face. "How wrong I was... I've been too lenient, I won't have you turn out like Joanna Mathis," the sound of Jo's full name felt wrong, he moves closer, looking her dead in the eyes. "Do you understand me?"

"No child of mine will end up some drop out teen slut, knocked up by the devil only knows who," he tilts her chin up when she tries to look away, she had no idea that Jo was... "There'll be no mercy, I raised you as my own daughter and I won't tolerate a child living under my roof behaving like a whore, not for that boy, not for anyone. Am I clear?"

"I am not your daughter!" Megan blurts out without thinking and he steps back enraged by her defiance, "Sorry! Please, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry..." She can't get any more words out, choking on the verge of tears. He clenches the poker in hand for an excruciating breath before letting it drop from his hand. Megan's nose bursts in white hot pain as she's struck. Her hands and knees come into focus on the floor as her head reels and she comprehends what had happened.

"Do you think I enjoy this?" He berates her as she stares at the floor under palm, "No one else was willing to step up and take you on, no one else wanted you, not your aunts or uncles or grandparents. Not. One. Single. Person... Except me." He offers her the hand that hit, knuckles reddening from the hurt he'd inflicted and she can only look at it dully. "You should be grateful  for my correction, a little discomfort now will spare you greater suffering in the end," he impatiently withdraws his hand, placing it on her head, fingers threatening further harm, she looks up at him and he appears genuinely hurt by her betrayal. "I forgive you, Megan, but make no mistake," he reaches down and hauls her to her feet, his grip too tight on her shoulders, "there won't be a next time." Carson's words fill her with dread, she nods and it's enough to make her feel dizzy, she's vaguely aware that her face is wet, she may have imagined it but she thought she saw him smile... He'd never hit her before today but the look on his face held promise of greater violence, if only what she was given proved to be too small a portion. "Good."

He steps back and she tries not to lose her balance as he retreats into the kitchen... She carefully bends, taking the heavy poker in her hand, returning it to its place, Kurt's gift, the thing for which she kissed him, the thing she took so much risk over... Gone. She turns back to Carson as he returns with something in hand. "Go put ice on it, I won't have you shaming me on Sunday." 

She stares blankly down at the ice in hand, unable to process how unsurprised she is by his priorities.

__

Megan lay on her own bed, staring at the ceiling, the ice had melted and ran down her face, having dried with her tears as a small clock ticks away in the painful silence... She rolls towards it and sees that it's past midnight, her birthday is over, next to the clock is an old family photo and beyond that is the doll she had been gifted two years ago. Sitting upright with it's blue eyes open, blonde hair neatly combed, what else was she supposed to do with it? 

She shifts the picture, resting it face down as she reaches for the doll. She sits up slightly, placing the doll on her lap to face her, she'd called her old doll Mary but this one never got an official name other than the general 'baby', although it was more recognisably a toddler... what is the intended purpose? She had kept the doll presentable and pretty, no scuffs or cracks like her older toys had in the past, but that's not it, she runs her fingers through the soft hair, feeling the eyelashes brush across the back of her hand. Bruising spread from her sore wrist up to her hand... as she props herself up, the doll leans back until it's eyes close, laid on her bare legs. 

...the intended purpose of a baby doll is to play mother...

Her hands trail to the dolls blushed cheeks... She misses her mom and in a way her birth mother too, she wonders what it was like for Tanya at her age, what their mom would have said to her, she wonders what her mother, Penelope, would have wanted for her, having passed long before the rest. Not this. Megan leans over the doll, looking straight down at its sleeping face, it didn't make sense to her, moving on from dolls was moving away from innocently playing at motherhood, but Jo is going to be a mother and that's the height of scandal? Her parents married when her mom was Jo's age and they had kids as soon as they could by any means they could... It all made her head hurt more than it already did. 

A single red droplet fell to the dolls face, just under her eye, Megan wipes it with her thumb, causing it to smear across the cheek. How could a desire be innocent but the action both forbidden and expected? Blood drips from the tip of her nose to the back of her hand, Megan wipes her face coming away red, the doll is tainted, she brings her knees up and it's eyes pop open, unaware of the bloody reality ruining the perfect childish image. She presses down the lashes, to shut the eyes, putting her head down on the doll, she thinks about Kurt, about the unfairness of it all and her own inability to make him understand, of the frustration at the situation she'd put them in, of guilt... She presses down harder as she wishes she had been smarter, but can't regret what they had done, only the consequences... only him.

She tilts her head back for just a moment before looking down at the doll, face bloodied, it's eyes had given away under the pressure. She stands, removing her thumbs from the sockets, and looks at herself in the mirror, partially dried blood smeared across the lower half of her face, her hair dishevelled and eyes lined by dark circles. This is what Carson had made of her. She holds the doll like it's supposed to be held but the image is twisted, horrifying, she closes her eyes, turning away to throw the doll through the adjacent window, opening them to see it lodged in a branch, too close to feel really gone, she unthinkingly wipes her hands down her shirt as she walks to the window. 

Looking out she sees the edge of the roof, she sits on the sill, the doll may fall onto the roof where it slopes away from the window, she turns placing a tentative foot on the cool surface... The sound would surely wake him if it fell... She stands again, hand on the window frame as she thinks of Tanya's white shoes before reaching forward carefully, eyeless face staring through her, she must let go to reach, must risk... Megan crouches down as she releases hold of the frame, testing her movement as quietly as she is able. As her fingers brush the doll it comes loose and all she can do is prepare to catch it, she struck her hand out to the doll as it's jostled in the tree, falling to the ground... Holding her breath until she's sure that the ground had been the safer landing place for the toy, she looks down to see the earth blanketed with fog clinging close to the ground and just barely that the doll had broken from the impact...

Megan steadies herself against the branches, fearing a similar fate if she lets go to return to the window, maybe she could climb down? There are no low branches but the fall would be less dangerous... the back door should be unlocked. Megan carefully climbs down as far as she could before dropping to the ground, her hands covered in blood and bark, dirt under foot, she raises slowly breathing deeply as her heart runs a million miles an hour at the idea she may be caught. The doll lays in several pieces at her feet, she picks up the broken limbs and shattered doll body, gathering the remains to hide away with the rest of the garbage so that she won't be found out. She walks around to the front of the house to dispose of the doll and when she looks out on the road, the night painfully silent, the empty road disappearing into the thickening fog, she steps out onto the street, gravel beneath her feet... 

She takes a deep breath as she focuses on the soft glow of the street lights in the darkness, then she takes a step, then another and another until she's running as fast as she can down the desolate street, she goes until she falls to her hands and knees and her sore body reminds her of all the pain inflicted upon her. She stays still in the middle of the road as the night remains silent and she asks herself what she is trying to do? Run far away from Little Hope forever and never look back? She thought about walking all the way to Kurt's house half dressed in a shirt and pyjama shorts, bloody and dishevelled, with scraped knees and bare feet... She feels frozen to the spot, what if it wasn't enough? What if Carson could convince his family that she'd hurt herself to avoid punishment for her actions? That she was attention seeking and trying to ruin the Reverend's reputation? Megan holds herself and sobs for longer than she thought could, her body aches and her tears dry before she pushes herself to her feet. Opressive fog closes around her and she sees nothing but the far off glow ahead of her and she could not will her feet to move any further as if she'd reached the end of an invisible tether. She turns back to see the house clearly through the haze and it becomes clear to her as she steps back towards it that she can not flee from this place... Can not run from him. 

She steadies her heart as she creeps through the back, taking the candlestick from the mantle, thinking of how brazenly he once flaunted his sinful practices, keeping the occult bible where everyone could see and assume he was faithful, stopping only when she was getting too old to risk her seeing through him... well she saw him and there was no unseeing it. Carefully climbing the stairs, feeling the weight of the cold metal in hand as she holds her breath and turns the doorknob, she can't look away from it any longer, the door slowly opens and she catches a glimpse of the back of his head. 

Sleeping soundly after all he had done to her. Megan steps up to the side of the bed, thinking of all that had happened mere hours ago, she tightened her grip on the candlestick, staring at the crown of his head in the dim room, dark hair unkempt in sleep, she holds it above him, thinking of baseball and of one solid swing. As she raises her hand she freezes, the air knocked from her lungs as he shifts. She backs up against the wall as he rolls to face her, eyes closed, an arm hanging from the bed. She clamps a hand over her own mouth to keep quiet as she slides to the ground, holding the candle close to her chest to prevent it clattering against the floorboards. She stares at him, eye level with his sleeping face, begging him not to wake in her mind his eyes would open and she would be doomed. Don't move, don't breathe, don't make a sound lest the devil himself drags her to that firey pit. She resigns herself to this terrible truth, she must remain here... Tethered to this hell so long as they're both alive.

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