Tales of Carmilla Daughtry (Chapter One)

"Sometimes I got frightened. Sometimes I would shiver alone, in the corner of the room. There was no light. Silence was the only thing I relied on. If I could've stood up to him I knew I wouldn't have been here, I knew I could've ran away. There was nothing I could do; I would live here alone until I died, or until I was somehow rescued. 1

I would stare out at a bleak sky through the only crack in the ceiling. There was nothing here except the ragged blanket I slept with at night, and the dead cockroaches drying up in the cracks of the floorboards. The tiny bit of light that seeped through shone across the room, blinding me every morning as I awoke to a line of flying dust particles, dancing in the air through the sunlight. 2

I hadn't eaten in four days, hadn't had a thing to drink since he last came to visit, throwing a bowl on the ground like I was a dog. I had had little sleep in the time he persisted to keep me locked in here. I slept on the floor, curled up in the corner, holding onto every warm moment as the cold winter air chilled the floor and gave me goosebumps. 3

Each day, the thought of Marion holding me again seemed to become an image so very unclear. I had vividly pictured his arms wrapped around me as we laid together under the sunlight in the fields on the other side of the river, the oak trees blowing softly with the gentle hiss of the wind. This fantasy was just that - a fantasy. Had I known I would be locked in here for weeks, I would have prepared myself for such an isolated incarceration. I did nothing all day but sit alone. Boredom was casting his curse upon me, and it was all I could do not to go insane. 4

The first hit. The initial instance of contact. I could've screamed, but I stood there and copped another smack. That was thirty-seven days ago now. He'd hit me again only a few days ago. Storming through and belting me to the ground. The bruising since then had gone down, but my tender face was more painful than any pain I had ever experienced. I feared to see my own reflection, I didn't want to face what I had become since becoming his victim. My white night gown, still on me from the night he threw me in here, was dirty and ragged now. It had long since gathered dirt in its fibres, and torn in multiple places. The lace on the collar and arms had loosened, and my once beautiful white linen gown was now a tattered rag that drooped over my shivering body. 5

I longed to see the light, to be able to breathe the fresh air of the country. Instead, I was in the attic coughing up blood from the lack of oxygen. My lungs were probably encased in dust and dirt, as I simply could not escape the musky air in this tiny room. 6

I looked over to the other side of the room, cuddled my legs in tighter and squeezed up against the wall.
"I know you're there!" I screamed, "get out!"
I heard the footsteps across the room. I saw nothing.
"Why do you come here?!" I wailed, tears rolling down my dirty face, stinging the open cuts he had left me.
I swallowed hard and choked as I breathed in a heavy breath as I heard his steps again. I sobbed for hours, waiting for him to leave me. I had feared this. 7

That night I fell asleep there, and awoke to the sound of a creaking roof. I looked up to the crack in the ceiling, and saw an eye looking in at me.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I am the messenger. Do not speak of me to anyone. I have something for you. I shall return tomorrow at the same time." He said as he slipped an envelope into the crack. I grasped onto it as his eye disappeared from the hole and I heard the roof creaking again. His voice was young and unbroken, and his eye was big and round. I did not recognise his voice, nor did I think to ask his name. 8

I looked down at the envelope, instantly recognizing Marion's handwriting on the front. I took a moment to admire his perfectly curved letters, the elegant swoop of the C and the flow of my name on the paper. I gently tore it open, and found a small quill. I unfolded the paper inside, and it read:9

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Carmilla,11

How I yearn to rescue you from this tragic horror of events, the chain of everlasting torture that you endure each day is to me as painful as it is you. Knowing that you are unwell and unable to see me pains my heart, as I live each day in fear that I might never see your face. I fear that I might never again be able to kiss your lips, hear your voice, gaze into your bright blue eyes. And how I long for you to return to me, for the days are becoming longer and seemingly harder to endure. 12

I promise you, Carmilla, that I will rescue you. I vow on my life that one day, when I am able to flee from my father's province, I will free you from this prison. 13

Until I am able to see your face and stroke your hair from your eyes, I will forever be burdened by the knowledge that I have let you down. I will write you everyday if it means you smile at least once, knowing that I will come for you. 14

Doubt no longer that you will see me soon, because until I know you are safe with me, I will continue to live each day with the thought that you might not be okay. I have enclosed a quill and some writing paper, in hope that you will write me and let me know you are fairing well. 15

With love, always and forever,
Marion. 16

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I was overjoyed, I had finally heard from him."18

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For the rest of the day Carmilla thought about Marion, and how she longed so much for his touch, just to see him smile. She fantasized about the day they'd meet, and wondered what that moment would instantly feel like once their eyes met. Would they run away together and make a life of their own, or would he take over his ill father's palace and they would live there? 23

She thought about what she might like to do, and she yearned for nothing more than just to be with him, and concluded that no matter where they lived, anything was better than here. Her humble obligation to succeed in her life under the control of her father was extreme, there was nothing she could have done but abide by his laws. She figured if she no longer lived under his roof, he would not have the same control over her. Running away was the easy bit, but being found was even easier. 24

If there was one thing Carmilla knew, it was her father. She knew how to get around his antics, how to avoid confrontation, how to get her way. But there were times, she had noticed, over the past year where she simply could not figure him out. The recent turn against her had slowly occurred over time, and she had dreaded this for months. As a little girl there was no one in the world she loved more than her father. She felt safe in his arms when he held her tiny body against his seemingly bear-like figure. Each day she would reminisce the days where there was nothing else better than being with her father. As a child, the safety and affection that he provided was vital, and she only wished that even a portion of that love was still shown towards her. 25

The journey to begin with to escape and run away was long and painful, but perhaps this was the easier way out. Being found and tortured may have been the best thing to have happened to her. She had nothing but her legs and feet, where Marion had horses to travel on and guards to protect them. When he was to rescue her, there was nothing her father could do about it, since he would not find her under the protection of Marion's father's personnel. The arranged marriage to a somewhat wealthier individual would no longer be necessary, since her presence at her father's family home would be no more. His plans for a wealthy daughter and noble son-in-law would be crushed under the demise of her occupancy under his roof. 26

She pondered that thought for longer, and realised that by marrying Marion and making a life in his father's estate, she would have no choice but to be found and captured again because of the family's reputation and status in the area. She feared her death, and hoped for both hers and Marion's sake that they would perhaps be able to escape without a trace. Continuing her thoughts on a living situation, she decided that it might be best to move to a completely separate province, and, if need be, country. This didn't scare her as much as she thought it should have. It excited her, if nothing else. 27

That night, it was a cold evening, and so she huddled herself up in a corner and closed her eyes for just a wee moment. The next thing she knew, she was at Lord Treating's charity ball in the town hall, dancing to the most exquisite of music. She wondered how she had miraculously escaped the attic, but soon decided it was not important at this time. She glanced across the brightly lit room and Marion's eyes caught hers. Oh, how she had dreamt of this moment. 28

"Marion!" She exclaimed, before running toward him, pushing through the crowd of people dancing on the newly polished dance floor. She reached him and thrust herself at him, only to have found nothing there, as though his body was just a figment of her imagination.29

As she plunged toward the floor, she heard him speak, "Carmilla, you must wait. There will be time." A look of fear and sadness and confusion overcame her, and in response she exclaimed, "But when?" 30

Lying on the floor in tears as he walked away from her, seemingly careless of what had just happened, she tried to gather her thoughts and fight back the salty droplets streaming down freshly powdered cheeks. 31

Suddenly, she heard the sound of tin rattling. She opened her eyes and saw that her weekly dose of water and leftovers had been tossed in to her. What did the dream mean? How peculiar and saddening it was to think of such a dreadful thing. She hoped everything was all right with Marion, but of this she was not sure. 32