In the Eyes of a Child - part 9/9
“Rose?”
The soft breath against my neck made me smile, barely conscious. “Mmmm?”
“I think it’s morning.” Cybil’s voice was no louder than a whisper, but I could feel the vibration against my ear. I could feel her, pressed against my back.
Blinking my eyes open in slight confusion, I turned my head just to have it almost collide with Cybil’s.
Whoa, close!
She pulled her head back a little, allowing me to study her face. Her blue eyes were still rimmed with red, but other than that she looked calm. I smiled at her, feeling relief wash through my veins, and then promptly closed my eyes again. Morning? No way. I felt no need whatsoever to move from my current position. With hazy satisfaction, I noted that her arm was wrapped snugly around my waist. Cybil was okay for the moment, and that was all that mattered.
“Hey! You’re not supposed to fall asleep again!”
“Ugh, go away.” My brain belatedly caught up with my words, and I gripped her wrist. “No wait. Stay, but be quiet.”
“You’re hopeless.” She grabbed hold of my shoulder and turned me over onto my back in the bed.
I blinked up at her. “Um… morning.”
She grinned down at me, and I couldn’t help but smile in return, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “Feelin’ better?”
She nodded and brushed her lips over my palm. “Now get up before your daughter starts asking questions.”
“Perhaps she wants to be a police officer?” I sighed as a still fully dressed Cybil followed her own advice and disentangled before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving me to drift off to sleep again.
--
I ruefully let my fingers play with the cross around my neck as I watched three monsters in nurse uniforms come into view in the garden below, hunting our newly acquired leg creature with scalpels raised high against the grey sky. Part of a foot already lay twitching in the listless grass behind them. It was obvious that the hunted one had no chance in hell, and I had to turn my head away when it spun around, legs flailing as it made one last stand. The nurses reminded me of when I went into the heart of Silent Hill to find Alessa in the darkness, but they also scared me for a wholly other reason. Memories of white walls, painful shots and leather straps around my wrists flashed before my eyes and I quickly got to my feet, leaving the balcony. Clenching my jaw, I managed to cut the memories off before they could begin replaying in earnest.
It was just as well that Cybil wasn’t around at the moment - she wouldn’t have been able to handle this very well.
The sounds of rusty scalpels parting dead flesh followed me inside the house.
Cybil
Cybil, no matter how brave or amazing she was, didn’t belong here with me. She didn’t deserve to share my own and Sharon’s twisted existence. She didn’t deserve being bound to the growing darkness that was me.
Do I deserve staying here?
I rested my palm against the cold wall in the corridor, frowning as I noticed I was shaking, and stood absolutely still until it subsided. Yes, I actually did. I had chosen. I was a murderer, and on top of that I had been unfit for the real world even when I was actually in it. I knew that I would never be able to pretend if I went back, never again be someone that anyone could truly love. Could I really look Christopher in the eye and tell him that I had changed, that the need that had bound me to him was gone along with the last shreds of my sanity, and that our daughter was the very same? Crazy, that’s how it sounded. And even if I could avoid Chris, I wouldn’t be able to stand the look on Cybil’s face once she realized what I had become, and how much I liked it.
Images from the night at the church invaded my mind following that thought - memories of me standing at the edge of hell like a vengeful demon as the screams of the dying filled my ears, the taste of blood in my mouth and the wounded Alessa’s twisted body as she smiled at me through a mayhem of bodies ripped apart by barbed wire come alive.
And I liked it.
I leaned back against the cold wall and squeezed my eyes shut, gasping for breath as I tried to control the tears running down my cheeks.
--
I found my daughter in her room, building a Lego castle with the deep concentration only young girls and autists seem to master. Kneeling before her, I studied her dark hair, her long eyelashes and her pale cheeks. She was a beautiful child.
“Hey mommy, what is it?” She looked up at me, tilting her head to the side.
I smiled faintly at her, stroking my hand over her hair. “Nothing really… I just wanted to ask you something, honey.”
She looked curious now, putting a Lego piece down before shifting to mimic my kneeling position. “Ask what?”
I took a deep breath. “Could you let Cybil back out into the real world?
“Would you really want me to, mommy?”
I had a strong feeling of having had this conversation before, but I could tell that my answer this time surprised her. “Yes.”
“You love her.”
“Yes.”
She studied me for a long moment, and I looked down, gripping the hem of my brown skirt.
“When do you want her to go back, mommy?”
I swallowed, my throat closing up. “T-tomorrow morning? When she sleeps?”
“It shall be done.” She nodded once, solemnly, and then suddenly grinned. “Wanna help me with my castle? I need to build a bridge.”
--
The day passed. When Cybil returned from the basement, sweaty from having used Christopher’s equipment, she found me curled up on the couch, my clothes and my skin smeared with ashes. Seeing the look on my face, she came closer and knelt by my side, her black t-shirt clinging to her broad shoulders. She was stunning.
“Rose?” She looked at me with worried blue eyes, and I reached out for her, wrapping my arms tightly around her neck, pulling her close. I could smell the fresh sweat on her skin, and I knew she could smell the ashes on mine.
Cybil gently circled my waist with her arms and pulled me down from the couch onto her lap, stroking my sides soothingly. It was sweet. It was excruciating.
She was so close. All I had to do was tilt her face up towards mine, and then I was pressing my lips desperately against hers, feeling the familiar electric current pulse through my veins at the contact. When she shyly returned the kiss I let out an involuntary sound and buried my fingers in her short hair, closing my eyes against the unbearable tenderness I could see in hers. I could feel her arms tightening around my waist, and for just a moment I let myself forget the world around us. When she finally pulled back to look at me I hid my face against her neck, breathing hard, but trying as I might I couldn’t keep my tears from wetting her skin.
“Rose…”
“You’re not happy here, Cybil.” My voice was a hoarse whisper, lips brushing against her earlobe.
She stroked my hair, my neck, my shoulders. I pressed closer and trembled as she held my chin, forcing me to meet her gaze.
“And you are?”
--
We lie in bed, my arms wrapped tightly around your sleeping form, my nose in your messy blonde hair. Your breaths are heavy, warming my chest, and I stay completely still, filing away moment after broken moment into my memory to keep. Once again, I have chosen. I never told you, Cybil, but I’m sure you will be happier out there. You will meet your mother, return to work. You will settle down, forget all about Silent Hill and me. I will not forget you. In the end, it is all about fear. And love.
I feel tears burning in my eyes again and I hug you closer. You mumble something, nuzzling softly against me, and time grinds to another halt as I let myself drown in the sensation. When I look up again, Sharon is standing in the doorway.
“Ready?”, she mouths, and I nod, squeezing my eyes shut as I press my lips against your forehead one last time.
I will let you go now, Cybil. Please, be happy.