The Girl in the Wych Elm (IX)

 

IX. No Stars Over Wych Elm (re-upload)

“Orion…go home…” The Watchmen told the stubborn man. They were tired of being pestered by him. Orion, however, refused to yield. He would get inside Old Cahawba one way or another. “We’re not telling you this again.” The first Watchman sighed frustratedly. That was Orion’s final warning. The Watchmen at the estate’s gate had given Orion too many chances; their patience was gone. They had refused Orion entry four times. And four times Orion pushed back, refusing to leave. If the man continued bothering them, the Watchmen would use violence instead of their words.

The second Watchman shoved Orion onto the ground and kicked dirt all over him. “Mayor Hightower doesn’t want to see your stupid ass, especially this late at night.” He told Orion to go, or he would put hands on him.

Orion refused yet again, to their annoyance. “I need to speak with him urgently.” News of the Rosenheims’ ascension to the High Families had reached his ears. The last son of the Morgenstern family was livid. He had to know why his family’s rightful seat was given away. And to a lowly family at that. The Rosenheims’ relationship with the DeSanguis’ infuriated Orion the most. That seat belonged to him, regardless of what others believed. That seat historically belonged to the Morgenstern family, and he wouldn’t leave Old Cahawba without an answer directly from Alexander’s mouth.

“You can take it up with Mayor Hightower’s receptionist in the morning.” That was all they would say about the matter. Orion wasn’t seeing Alexander that night.

Orion, tenacious, got back on his feet. He walked up to the first Watchman with his chest puffed out, trying to act tough. None of the Watchmen were moved by the performance. “I am the son of the Morning Star.” He told the guard arrogantly, speaking down on all of them. Though no longer a member of the High Families, Orion still belonged to one of Wych Elm’s affluent families. “The four of you will always be beneath me, no matter my status.”

The Watchmen merely laughed and belittled Orion. “You are stupidly audacious as they say.” The second guard struck Orion in the shin with his retractable nightstick. All four of them encircled Orion as he clutched his knee in pain. “Your father knew better than to challenge the High Families and foolishly did so anyways.” The third guard kicked Orion in the ribs with his steel-toe boot, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“You’re mad at the world for how you ended up when it should be you father.” The second guard spat on Orion. “The only reason you’re not dead in the street like a feral dog is because the mayor ordered us not to kill you, no matter how much you aggravate us.” Alexander said nothing about roughing him up, however. “Get’em on his feet.” He barked at his associates. The men aggressively snatched Orion up to his feet.

The first Watchmen pressed his nightstick hard against Orion’s face. “Final warning, Orion. Take your dumbass ho-” He kicked the man in the stomach and spat in the other guard’s face. “You son of a bitch…” The guard removed his taser and cranked it to the highest voltage. He tased Orion until the man’s eyes rolled back and he went unresponsive.

“Time to intervene.” Ishmael exhaled. He had watched the exchange between Orion and the guards from the shadows. While Orion deserved what he got, the man was Ishmael’s prey to torment and eventually kill. No one else would take that opportunity from him. “Enough before you send him into cardiac arrest.” The faces of the Watchmen soured when the Red Hound appeared. They released Orion; his limp body dropped to the ground. Ishmael stood over Orion as he smoked his cigarette. He nudged the man with his boot. “You better not be dead, asshole.” Ishmael flicked the ashes of his cigarette onto Orion.

“Don’t expect a thank you from me, Ishmael.” Orion groaned painfully into the dirt.

The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Don’t assume I intervened out of the goodness of my heart.” He replied mockingly. Fortunately for Orion, he lived to see another sunrise. But there was no telling how many sunrises he had left. “These nice gentlemen have asked you to leave several times. It would be in your best interest to do so.” Ishmael told Orion to go home and shower. “You smell like piss.” Those were his last words to Orion for the time being. Ishmael’s last act of disrespect was discarding his cigarette butt on top of Orion. “If I may.” The Watchmen begrudgingly opened the gate to Old Cahawba for the sheriff. Orion clawed at the dirt, watching as his enemy passed through the gates, he was denied entry into.

The third level of Old Cahawba was Alexander’s private floor. Access was heavily restricted even to his own family members. Not even the mayor’s own brothers or closest associates were allowed on the floor without prior authorization from him. Ishmael had been everywhere around the Crimson Hightower estate, except Alexander’s suite. He was allowed because Alexander requested him. “You know, I can come back another time, Alexander?” The sheriff came upon the mayor soaking in a hot bath drinking wine. That was part of Alexander’s nightly routine.

Ishmael was motioned to sit in the adjacent armchair. “It’s all right, Ishmael. I’m not bothered if you aren’t.” Alexander’s partial nudity wasn’t a huge issue to Ishmael. He treated the outlandish meeting like he did their usual interactions. “Wine?” Alexander raised the bottle. Ishmael declined the drink. Of all the alcoholic beverages he had tried, wine was not his preferred.

“The detective’s dead.” He informed Alexander bluntly. The mayor responded with a nonchalant shrug. Ishmael wasn’t supposed to kill Hollis, technically. That wasn’t his directive. Alexander only wanted the man out of his town.

“Those men are long gone so, there wasn’t any need for more bloodshed.” Hollis’ death mattered little to Alexander anyways. “What’s done is done.” He told Ishmael in a cheerful tone. Alexander was a little curious about Ishmael’s reason for killing Hollis though.

Ishmael looked down at his hands, turning them over and back several times. “I didn’t like his energy.” The man didn’t elaborate further on his answer.

Alexander sipped his wine. “Is that so?” He watched Ishmael skeptically from over the glass’ rim.

The sheriff crossed his legs. “Anyways, you could have called me for a report.” It made little sense to Ishmael for him to come all the way to Old Cahawba.

Alexander waded to the other side of the sunken tub. “Aww… You weren’t interested in seeing me tonight?” He teased Ishmael with a sly smile.

Mortified, the Red Hound stammered to apologize. Alexander’s playfulness often went over Ishmael’s head at times. “I-I didn’t-I didn’t mean it like th-that, Alexander. It’s just… What I meant was… I know how important your personal downtime means to you, so-so I was saying-”

“Heel, Ishmael, heel. I was messing with you.” Alexander splashed the man with bath water. “Stop being so uptight all the time. It’ll kill you.” He wagged his finger. Alexander called Ishmael to Old Cahawba because he wanted his company.

“S-seriously?” Ishmael replied excitedly, wagging his invisible tail. Alexander meant what he said. He told Ishmael life in Wych Elm was about to change, specifically in favor of the Crimson Hightowers. The mayor’s gaze suddenly shifted from the sheriff to the window. What the hell is he staring at? Outside the window was an old Wych Elm tree, nothing else of interest. From Ishmael’s perspective, it appeared Alexander was looking at something he personally couldn’t see. Maybe he’s lost in thought or something.

Alexander informed Ishmael he planned to set in motion the five-year plan he had been meticulously fleshing out. “Only one…. There can be only one Hightower family.” They mayor had called Ishmael to his suite for a specific reason. The Red Hound and his cohorts were essential to Alexander’s scheme. “Solomon is plotting against me. It seems our ‘lover’s quarrel’ has run its course. Things are about to get rather ugly around here.” The irritants that were the Grand Families were no longer of Alexander’s concern. His attention and energy returned to his initial goal: the eradication of the Silver Hightowers.

The Red Hound, on the edge of his seat, salivated like a starving dog. The ecstasy in his eyes shone brightly like the Morning Star before sunrise. “Anything you ask or need of me, I’ll do it without hesitation.” The cunning smile on Alexander’s face pulled tighter. Ishmael’s devotion to him was unbridled.

“Grab me a towel, please.” Alexander requested. Not once did his eyes break away from the window. Ishmael pulled a fresh towel from the warmer and handed it to Alexander. He turned away while Alexander made himself decent.

“What about that jackass, Orion?” The name left a bitter taste on Ishmael’s tongue. “Has he outlived his usefulness yet?” Ishmael clenched and unclenched his restless hands. They itched for Orion’s throat, to take his life. He was tired of the idiot moving around Old Cahawba and Wych Elm unrestricted. Let me kill him. Let me kill him. Tell me I can kill him. Ishmael chanted inside his mind. He hoped Alexander would give him the green light.

To the Red Hound’s frustration, however, Alexander gave no immediate response. The mayor strolled over to the credenza where he kept his record player. The collection of vinyls was another inheritance from his late father. And while Thaddeus favored Alexander the most out of his four sons, the two men had very little in common outside their shared love of music. “Ah! Here it is.” Alexander presented the album art to Ishmael. It featured the silhouettes of two samurai against an orange background. “Her name is Minmi. I saw her perform in a nightclub one evening the year I turned eighteen.” Alexander played the record for the sheriff.

Ishmael, however, wasn’t interested in hearing the song. He wanted an answer to his question. The distraction only increased his annoyance. “She has a beautiful voice.” The sheriff dryly remarked. His taste in music wasn’t the same as Alexander’s. Ishmael enjoyed alternative and hard rock compared to RnB.

“Orion hasn’t outlived his usefulness…yet” had Ishmael madder than a stepped on snake. Alexander poured another glass of wine. He kept quiet while Ishmael vented his thoughts.

“Orion is not useful. He’s an obnoxious insect.” One that needed to be crushed. The sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t need him, Alexander. You need me and just me.” That also included the Red Hound’s merry band of thugs. Ishmael demanded to know what Orion did for Alexander that he as the sheriff of Wych Elm couldn’t. He beseeched the mayor to reconsider. “Orion is nothing more than an overdue lose end.” Ishmael didn’t trust the bastard. Orion was up to something, of that, the Red Hound was certain.

Alexander took a swig of his wine. “Are you done with your tantrum now, Ishmael?” He asked in a condescending, deadpan tone. The Crimson Patriarch merely entertained the tantrum because of his wine. With the glass and the entire bottle gone, the mayor was done with the conversation. His decision was absolute.

Under regular circumstances, Ishmael never dared to question or argue against Alexander’s decisions, even if he disagreed with them. Ishmael was clouded by his jealousy, obsession, and his hatred of Orion. For the first time in forever, the Red Hound bit back against his master. “I’m sorry, Alexander but this is a foolish decision.” He confessed to the mayor his lack of hesitation to spare Orion the next time their paths crossed. “You’re the mayor, but I’m the sheriff. I’m the Law.” The silence that followed his words were deafening. Only the ticking of the clock was heard in the background.

The audacious statement awakened something dark and sinister inside Alexander. He twitched from his right eye down to his hands. Who was Ishmael to pull rank on the mayor of Wych Elm and the patriarch of the Crimson Hightowers? A burning sensation crept up inside his chest; Alexander massaged the area. Ishmael asked if he was all right. “Just some heartburn.” He winced out. Alexander directed Ishmael’s attention to the prescription bottle behind him on the table. Like an obedient dog, Ishmael hurried and fetched the bottle. But the second the sheriff turned around a wine bottle connected with his face. The strike wasn’t enough to knock the Red Hound out, but it did leave Ishmael bleeding and disoriented.

“You seem to have almost forgotten your place, my dear hound.” Alexander tapped the bottle against his palm. “You may be the law, Ishmael but your position inside this town will forever be under me. No one is above me.” Not Ishmael. Not Solomon. No one. Alexander assaulted Ishmael until the wine bottle broke under his strength. The sheriff of Wych Elm laid in a puddle of his blood, barely conscious. “Remember who helped elevate your position, Ishmael? Who gave your life a purpose?” He disrespectfully thumped the sheriff’s badge. “You were nothing to Oberon other than a disgusting reminder of his father. Now, you’re the sheriff of Wych Elm and head of one of the most powerful families in this region.” Which only happened due to Alexander’s involvement. The mayor leaned into Ishmael’s face. “Answer me this. Where is Oberon now? Fertilizer.” He whispered harshly into the sheriff’s ear. The next time Ishmael thought to challenge Alexander’s authority, he would find himself buried next to his father.

“I’m…I’m sorry…Alexander…” Ishmael deserved the punishment at least, in his own eyes. He had momentarily overstepped his boundaries. It was all for Alexander. Everything the Red Hound did was all for Alexander. The physical pain Ishmael felt in that moment was nothing more than a needle prick compared to the turbulent, emotional, and psychological abuse he experienced as a child. He was racked with sadness, anger, pain, hatred, and resentment towards his deceased father whose violent death never brought Ishmael satisfaction or closure.

Ishmael didn’t have the ideal childhood most children in the High Families lived. His birth was the unfortunate result of a predatory, sexual arrangement. The woman who gave birth to him was the neglected wife of a businessman more affluential than the five High Families combined. Oberon, who had recently turned nineteen and already engaged, found himself the object of the woman’s unwanted sexual desire. The teenager had no choice or say in the matter, sadly. He was pimped out by his own father under threat of violence and disownment. Ishmael was born four months before his brother Damiano. He was neither wanted by Oberon nor his mother.

Regardless, custody of the baby fell on the DeSanguis. Ishmael became a frustrating reminder of Oberon’s trauma. He was never allowed to call Oberon “father” or “dad.” The man couldn’t care less about what happened to Ishmael. His care and upbringing were managed by nannies who were ordered to isolate Ishmael from Oberon, his wife, and Damiano. The poor child didn’t get his name until he turned two. It was given to him by a nanny out of pity. Watching Oberon shower Damiano with love and kindness over the years while he was treated worse than a street dog impacted the trajectory of Ishmael’s life.

“Please…don’t throw me…away…” Ishmael weakly pleaded to Alexander. He had said the same thing to his father only to be cast outside anyways. Ishmael whined and begged to Alexander. “It won’t…happen…again…” He promised Alexander he would leave Orion alone at his request. Ishmael would do whatever Alexander asked of him from that moment forward. The Red Hound had been discarded by his father, his mother, his brother, and his family. That was the man’s greatest fear: falling out of favor with Alexander. The only person who saw value in him. “I’m-I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Alexander kneeled beside Ishmael; he caressed the beaten man’s face. The burning sensation in his chest intensified. He ignored the discomfort, but the longer Alexander held off on the medication, the worse the sensation and discomfort became. “You don’t have to worry, Ishmael.” Alexander gave the sheriff his word. No one would replace him. “Your loyalty means everything to me.” The mayor knew he could never find another person as devoted to him as Ishmael was. The Red Hound was his most valuable asset.

Ishmael smiled weakly before he fell unconscious. The beating he suffered took its toll. Alexander continued stroking Ishmael’s bloody face as the burning sensation in his chest worsened. “There’s nothing to worry about…” The Hightower winced out.

For no one was as loyal a hound to Alexander than Ishmael.

 

 

 

Roxanne Morgenstern kneeled quietly before the memorial altar, gazing into the eyes of her long-deceased parents and relatives. “I’m sorry mommy, daddy.” She bit back the tears forming in her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. You sacrificed everything to get us out of here, and this is how we’ve repaid you.” Roxanne couldn’t blame her parents if they turned in their graves. They had no business back in Wych Elm. The distraught woman wept. “We’re horrible children. We’ve failed and disappointed you.” Her parents’ disappointment loomed over her shoulders like a dark cloud. As the last daughter of the excommunicated and infamous house of Morgenstern, the guilt tormented Roxanne like a nightmare.

After what was done to her family, Roxanne should have stayed away from Wych Elm. Her biggest regret was also her greatest sin. Wych Elm was nothing more than a cage. Roxanne’s life inside that cage was one of endless misery. After a while, she began to view her life inside the town as a punishment. She had defiled her parents’ sacrifice. However, in Roxanne’s defense, it was all Orion’s fault. The only crime Roxanne was guilty of was trying to protect her foolish, older twin brother.

Unlike Roxanne, Orion held animosity towards his parents. “They should have never gone against the High Families” he often told his sister. “That seat is our birthright. We shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of our parents. We were children.” Orion returned to Wych Elm hoping to right his family’s past wrong and sold his services to Alexander Hightower.

Roxanne punched a hole in the wall above the altar. She was consumed with rage. Alexander had crossed her naïve brother like she told Orion he would. “Orion has always been the stubborn one. He wouldn’t listen to me.” She told her parents and relatives. The Morgensterns’ seat now belonged to the Rosenheims. “Just another Icarus who flew too close to the sun.”

Roxanne’s resentment of Orion finally surpassed her love for him. Seven years of their life wasted all because of a fool’s dream. Orion destroyed Roxanne’s life because he had been so absorbed in his own selfish desire to care about his sister’s feelings. “You can always leave. I didn’t beg you to come with me.” Orion told her many times previously. And as much as Roxanne desired to leave, she was unable to. She was stuck in Wych Elm, and it wasn’t because of Orion either. Roxanne couldn’t leave behind her beloved daughter, Vivianne.

Seven years prior, Vivianne was fathered by a childhood friend of Roxanne’s, though she kept her pregnancy a secret from him to protect him. Vivianne’s biological father was still unaware of her existence, far as Roxanne knew. The woman feared how her ex-lover would react if he knew their daughter was in the custody of the Silver Hightower family. “You’ll both burn in Hell, Christian, Horatio.” She cursed the men who stole her daughter from her. “Fuck you both!” She shrieked. Roxanne gripped the table tightly, holding back the urge to flip her family’s altar. “And you, Orion… You’ll be burning in Hell right alongside them.” She heavily breathed in and out. Orion was the reason Christian and Horatio took Vivianne.

The poor woman was faced with an agonizing decision: her daughter or her brother. She deeply regretted not letting the men kill her Orion

“I know you two would have spoiled her rotten.” Roxanne told her parents. “She was the sweetest baby. She was…my baby.” Roxanne laid her head across the table. The heartbroken woman hoped time would help her forget about Vivi. She tried to gaslight herself into believing she made the right decision. Orion and Roxanne had nothing to their names. They lived impoverished on the outskirts of Wych Elm, surviving off the paltry change Alexander threw her brother’s way. Vivianne would have lived a miserable existence just like Roxanne.

As a daughter of the Silver Hightowers, Vivianne had everything she would ever need. She received the most prestigious education, healthcare, and opportunities Roxanne and Orion never had outside of Wych Elm. Most of all, Vivianne was showered with abundant love by her adoptive parents, Christian and Rosalind, who couldn’t have their own children. Knowing Vivi was well taken care of gave Roxanne some consolation. Still, the sullen mother longed for her child. So long as Vivianne remained in Wych Elm, Roxanne did as well.

“…Roxanne?” Consumed by her thoughts, Roxanne hadn’t heard Lyra calling her name. “I’m sorry to bother you while you’re having time with your parents.” Lyra informed Roxanne she had guests.

Roxanne gawked at the woman. “Wha-what are you talking about?” As Lyra described the men’s appearance to Roxanne, a look of terror appeared in her eyes. “Ah…okay then. Thank you for telling me. Wh-where are they right now?” Roxanne asked Lyra to go back upstairs while she spoke with her guests. Lyra went without question or argument.

Roxanne wiped her tears and mustered up a courageous face. She took several breaths in and out to remain calm. Once she was ready, Roxanne made her way from the back of the house to the living room up front. She found three men reclining comfortably on their sofa and chairs. Horatio was the face Roxanne immediately recognized, though she was unfamiliar with the other two who came with him. Stay calm. Stay calm. Roxanne chanted. She wished she had a gun; she would have killed Horatio without hesitation.

“Where’s Christian?” She asked without pleasantries. Roxanne looked around as if she expected the man to make a sudden appearance.

Horatio casually slang his arm behind the chair. “Christian’s busy with actual important matters.” He regretfully informed Roxanne the man wouldn’t be in attendance. “I’ll make sure to tell him you asked about him.” He clicked his teeth and pointed.

Roxanne cut her eyes. “What do you want, Horatio?” The two men with Horatio smirked at each other which made Roxanne uneasy.

“We’re making a house call.” The man closest to Horatio answered. He had a square face, broad nose, and mischievous eyes. Roxanne ignored him. Her eyes remained focused on Horatio. The two lackeys weren’t of interest to her; they were lowborn members of the Silver Hightowers. She figured no one else of real importance was available. Highborn members of the twin families such as Horatio, Christian, Victor, Virgil and so on, were recognized by the brooch sigils they wore. Pinned to Horatio’s lapel was a soaring, silver eagle while for the Crimson Hightowers it was a rearing, golden lion.

“Thanks for dropping in but you all can-” She was interrupted by Horatio.

“We’re not done here yet, Roxanne.” Horatio leaned forward. He stared menacingly into the woman’s eyes. “Have a seat. Let’s enjoy each other’s company for a while.”

Anger replaced Roxanne’s fear. She clenched the skirt of her dress. No one, not even a Hightower, would bully Roxanne inside her own home. She coldly replied, “I’m fine where I am.” The thick-browed man jumped to his feet.

“It’s fine, Gerald.” Horatio raised his hand. “We’ll proceed as is.” The man sat back down. “I have something for you, Roxanne.” Horatio sang cheerfully. Roxanne had a dreadful feeling in her stomach. The air in the room became heavier. Horatio, smirking, pulled out a decorative box. It was teal, the signature color of the Silver Hightowers. He recklessly tossed the object onto the coffee table. “Open it, Roxanne.” He demanded. Roxanne noticed the darkness in his eyes.

“Wh-what’s inside that box.” She asked trepidatiously. Horatio shrugged off the question. Roxanne had two hands and two eyes; she could open and look for herself. “No… No, I’m not opening it. I’m not playing into your little intimidation game, Horatio.” Roxanne demanded they get out of her house.

Horatio sank down into the chair and crossed his legs. “You don’t have a choice…not anymore, at least.” The man reminded Roxanne of the rules of Wych Elm. “The second you stepped foot back in Wych Elm again, you left yourself at the mercy of the High Families.” Horatio told Roxanne she would open the box, or they would force her. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” He threatened, glaring ominously at her.

Roxanne shuffled over to the coffee table and hesitantly grabbed the box. Her hands trembled uncontrollably. Horatio watched her with an empty stare. Gerald and his companion continued snickering from the couch. Roxanne unwrapped the present, the ribbon fell delicately onto the floor. She paused for a brief moment. The anxious woman feared something horrendous awaited her inside the box. She looked over at Horatio who only motioned for her to continue.

When Roxanne removed the lid, she released a blood curdling shriek. Staring back at her were a pair of human eyeballs. She began retching violently. Despite the macabre sight, Roxanne carefully sat the eyeballs back on the table. “Who-whose eyeballs are those?” She gagged in between her questions. “Why…Why? Why would you-?”

Horatio interrupted her again. “It’s a shame too. Vivianne really adored Gemma. Too bad she turned out to be a fucking snake.” In shock, Roxanne covered her mouth. She refused to believe what Horatio said. Gemma. Those eyes belonged to Gemma. “Imagine how we felt, telling Vivianne her beloved nanny ‘won’t be coming back.’” Horatio rose to his feet. He stalked around Roxanne, like an eagle circling in the sky. Roxanne noticed tears in his eyes. “I love that little girl more than I love being a Hightower. I would move Heaven and Earth to raise Hell for her, Christian, and Rosalind.” Horatio stopped moving. He leaned into Roxanne’s space. “This is your fault, Roxanne.”

Roxanne struck Horatio over the accusation. He raised his hand to Gerald and the other man. They weren’t to intervene. “Don’t you dare put her death on me, Horatio.” She bared her teeth at the man. Horatio wasn’t moved. “You did that to Gemma, not me.” She pointed at the eyeballs. “You’re a disgusting, monster, Horatio. You, Christian, them, everyone in that goddamn family of yours.” Roxanne shrieked erratically in his face. “I didn’t break Vivi’s heart; it was you.” Terrified as she was of Horatio and the Hightowers, Roxanne stood her ground. The burden of Gemma’s death wasn’t hers to carry. She wouldn’t let that fall on her conscience.

Horatio gazed into Roxanne’s angry eyes. She saw the pain deep within his. She saw the numbness too. The love Horatio had for Vivianne was intense. “I don’t ever want to hurt Vivi in that manner again.” He told Roxanne remorsefully. Horatio gave her one warning: stay away from Vivianne. “You made your decision Roxanne, and you need to live with it.”

“Vivianne is still my daughter, Horatio!” Roxanne argued.

“No!” Horatio’s deep voice echoed throughout the house. “Vivianne is Christian’s and Rosalind’s daughter. She is a daughter of Hightower.” That last sentence almost sent her spiraling. Horatio reminded Roxanne that she chose Orion’s worthless life over Vivianne’s. “You’re foolish just like Orion, just like your parents.” His tone was riddled with disgust.

Roxanne spat on the man’s sigil. “Fuck you…Horatio…” She then smiled at him smugly. “You Hightowers-all of you-think you’re untouchable. But you are.” Roxanne stood tall. She and Horatio were locked in a hostile stare-down. “Every tower burns down eventually.” Their time was nearly up, she proclaimed. “All of you are going to burn like the night my family’s estate was torched.” Roxanne promised that every evil act committed by the Hightowers and High Families would come back to destroy them. “Maybe I’ll get the chance to witness it.”

Horatio laughed manically in Roxanne’s face to her annoyance. “Know this then, Roxanne.” He leaned into her ear and whispered. “Should the tower burn down, there will be no more stars over Wych Elm.” Horatio summoned his men. “We’re headed home now.” Their visit was over.

Roxanne crouched down in front of the table. She forced herself to look at Gemma’s eyes. Her body shivered; she held back the vomit threatening to escape. “Did she suffer?” Roxanne asked Horatio without meeting his gaze.

Horatio remorsefully answered, “No. No she didn’t.” His answer brought Roxanne some relief. “I made sure her death was painless and swift out of respect for Vivi.” Horatio opened the door. He let the two men exit first. The Hightower expelled a deep sigh. “Have a good night, Roxanne.”

 

Lyra waited patiently and quietly on the other side of the wall as Roxanne wept hysterically on the floor. She heard every word of the conversation between Roxanne and Horatio. She reckoned that was why Roxanne had her go upstairs. It was to spare Lyra from the appalling reality of the twins’ lives. My grandparents were right about this town. It’s truly full of wicked people. The stories she heard about Wych Elm growing up weren’t mere exaggerations as she believed.

Lyra had no immediate ties to Wych Elm, unlike Roxanne and Orion. She had never stepped foot inside the town until seven years prior when the siblings made their return. Lyra was a distant relative of the twins. She hailed from the Morgenstein family, a long-exiled branch of the Wych Elm Morgensterns. For simplicity’s sake, Lyra was their “cousin.”

Lyra’s family was nothing like their affluent counterparts. For about eighty-something years, they lived humble, blue-and-white collar lives. They wanted no part in the politics and power struggles of Wych Elm. They went so far as to alter their surname to distance themselves from the infamy that preceded the Morgenstern family. Before the Morgensterns were all killed, contact between the two families was non-existent. Regardless of their tumultuous past, Lyra’s parents took in Roxanne and Orion at the request of their parents. The High Families would have punished the children for their family’s sin. An example to those who sought to challenge their authority.

“Roxanne… May-may I come in the living room?” Lyra politely asked. She was gentle, kind, and soft-spoken. A person like Lyra didn’t belong in a cold environment like Wych Elm. “I heard everything.” She revealed to Roxanne’s dismay. The walls and floors of their rickety house were thin like paper. “Do you want some company?” Lyra happily offered her shoulder for Roxanne to cry on.

“Yes, please.” Roxanne placed the lid back on the box. Lyra didn’t need to see a traumatizing sight. The woman was committed to protecting her cousin’s innocence as long as she could. Although Roxanne feared she could no longer do so. 

Lyra plopped down beside Roxanne on the floor. She took the crying woman’s hands into her own. “I see now why my grandmother was against me coming here with you two.” Roxanne and Lyra burst into laughter. Against her family’s wishes (and the twins), Lyra accompanied the duo back to their hometown.

“She was always about to stroke out over every little thing.” Roxanne commented. “How is Miss Poppy doing nowadays?”

“Same as always: neurotic. She told me the other day on the phone she won’t die until I’m out of this place.” Lyra’s grandmother was ninety-one. Roxanne knew the woman didn’t have long.

Roxanne caressed Lyra’s cheek. “Lyra, maybe it’s time for you to head home. A beautiful flower shouldn’t have to bloom in a wild, abysmal place like this.”

Lyra, however, disagreed. “I believe the prettiest flowers can sometimes flourish in the wildest places.” She wouldn’t leave Wych Elm without the twins. An only child prior to their adoption by her parents, Orion and Roxanne were more siblings to Lyra than they were distant relatives. The thought of returning home without the twins bothered Lyra.

Her resolve to stay annoyed Roxanne greatly but she knew she couldn’t force the woman to leave. “Until I find a way to get Vivianne back, I’m never leaving this insufferable place.” Lyra had already wasted seven years of her life in Wych Elm. Roxanne didn’t want her to waste another seven.

Lyra laid her head upon Roxanne’s shoulder. “I’m content where I am as long as I’m with you and Orion.” She said with a cheeful smile. Lyra’s answer only worried Roxanne more. Wych Elm possessed a corruptive influence. The longer Lyra remained in the town, the more susceptible she became to its dark energy.

“I just thought about something Lyra.” Roxanne owed the woman an apology. She lied to Lyra about Vivianne, telling her the child was stillborn when in reality, she gave her baby up to save Orion. “I just wanted to shield you from the horrible realities of this place.” Roxanne didn’t expect forgiveness from Lyra.

However, to her shock, Lyra forgave her for the lie. “You don’t need to apologize to me, Roxanne. I’m sure the guilt you have to carry over giving up your child is worse than lying to me.” The support, comfort, and conversations were the only positives about having Lyra in Wych Elm. Had it been only her and Orion, Roxanne would have lost her mind a long time ago.

Orion barged through the door, fuming. He was covered from head to toe in dried blood and dirt and wreaked of piss. Lyra jumped up and was at his side immediately. “Don’t worry about me. I’m all right.” Orion smiled. It wasn’t enough to fool Lyra. She chastised him.

“You’re not all right, dummy. I’ll be right back.” Lyra told Orion she would grab the First Aid kit. It was upstairs somewhere.

As he waited for Lyra’s return, Orion hobbled into the kitchen and pillaged the cabinets until he found the half empty bottle of Brandy. He thumped away the cap and chugged several swigs of the brown liquid. “Oh God…!” He cradled the near empty bottle like it was a child. “I’ve been looking forward to you all day.” Orion slid down in the chair, threw back his head, and closed his eyes.

Roxanne watched her brother from the doorway. Her eyes were sunken and swollen from crying. Orion’s nonchalant entrance and demeanor irritated her. Feeling the burning stare of his twin sister’s eyes, Orion told Roxanne to speak plainly. “And what did you learn from this?” The man expelled a loud, annoyed groan.

“Roxanne, please.” He raised his hand, wanting his younger sister to be quiet. Roxanne became furious. She stomped over to Orion and knocked the bottle to the floor, spilling the dark liquid everywhere. Orion shoved her away. “Fucking hell, Roxanne! Why would you-?”

“What did I fucking tell you, Orion?” Roxanne wouldn’t let him get a syllable out. “You incorrigible dumbass.” She flicked his nose. “I told you- I told you nothing good would come of this. Alexander played you like the stupid ass fool you are.” She slapped her hand. Roxanne would rather stomach another hour with Horatio than another minute with her brother. “Do you remember what daddy used to tell us as kids? ‘Better to trust the Devil himself than a man of Hightower.’” Those words had been drilled relentlessly into Roxanne’s head from the day she became conscious of her existence. There was no such thing as a good Hightower.

Orion rubbed the back of his head where a knot began to form. “I never once trusted, Alexander.” Orion clarified his sister had always been wrong about that. “I know-I knew he could never be trusted.” Orion’s plan from the beginning was to buy Alexander’s favor with his loyalty. “We’re Morgensterns. We belong at the table with the rest of the High Families.” He pointed. “We were meant to live a life of luxury and ease, not slaving away at some blue collar or white-collar job. You may be content with living that life Roxanne but not me.” Orion desperately missed the life he had in Wych Elm before he was sent away. He wouldn’t rest until his family’s position was restored, even if it killed him.

“All you are Orion is an ungrateful child that refuses to grow up.” Roxanne was offended and insulted. Lyra’s family took them when they didn’t have to. They showered the twins with love as they did Lyra. Not once were they mistreated or left to fend for themselves. While their life outside of Wych Elm was unremarkable compared to the life they once had, Roxanne understood how fortunate they had been all those years. Orion wasn’t interested in hearing none of that. He told Roxanne to leave him alone because he wasn’t in the mood to argue with her. He had a rough evening.

Roxanne’s fists clenched tightly. “You had a rough night?” She expelled a short, mocking laugh. “Mine was so much worse than yours.” Roxanne told Orion about Gemma’s murder. His response sent her over the edge; she lashed out. “Are you serious right now, Orion?” A veil of red was all Roxanne saw. Orion asked who Gemma was. He had forgotten all about her and their prior relationship. “How could you even fix your mouth to ask me that? Gemma was our nanny when we were children. She helped raise us.” Years later, Gemma helped raise Roxanne’s very own daughter while employed with the Silver Hightowers. As each second passed, Roxanne became angrier. Before her unfortunate demise, Gemma was the last connection Roxanne had to her deceased family.

Orion dismissed his sister’s emotions. “That was so long ago, Roxanne. You expect me to remember the names and faces of everyone who worked for our family?”

“No, but I expect you to at least remember who Gemma was. She wasn’t a nobody.” Roxanne wept hysterically which made Orion uncomfortable; he stood there and watched Roxanne like an awkward bird. “They… They c-cut out her eyes!” Orion’s horrified eyes widened. The weight of Gemma’s murder crushed Roxanne like a boulder.

“Wh-why did they do th-that?” It was a message and a warning to Roxanne.

During those seven years, Gemma kept Roxanne in the loop about Vivianne’s life among the Silver Hightowers. She wrote letters, sent pictures, and even managed to send Roxanne some of Vivi’s possessions to have. Some of her baby clothes, strands of hair, a baby doll she no longer played with, artwork, and so on. Those items were the closest Roxanne ever felt to her daughter. Gemma knew what she did was risky, but it was  all out of love for Roxanne. The poor woman lamented over the fact she would never get the chance to repay Gemma for her bravery and kindness.

Orion shifted in the chair. His sister was an emotional wreck over Gemma. Orion truly felt bad for his sister. He never liked seeing her so broken and hurt. However, Orion couldn’t help but feel like Roxanne blamed him indirectly for Gemma’s death. “It’s unfortunate what happened to her.” In the end, Gemma’s brutal death was her own fault. That’s what Orion audaciously told Roxanne.

The red veil over Roxanne’s eyes darkened even more. The anger she fought to suppress exploded. “You are a heartless bastard, Orion. You’re no better than Alexander! How can you of all people stand there and say that?” Roxanne reminded Orion that what he did seven years ago was no different than what Gemma did. Except, Orion’s life was spared thanks to Roxanne’s sacrifice. Gemma had no one to save her.

Orion was tired of Roxanne throwing the situation back in his face. “Should have let them kill me then.” He shrugged unapologetically.

“Yes… I should have…” Roxanne wouldn’t make the same mistake a second time.

Lyra heard the heated argument from the stairs. She clutched the First Aid kit tighter to her chest. I wish we could go back to those peaceful days. This town and its people are tearing us apart. The rift in the family grew wider. Lyra had reached her breaking point with Roxanne’s and Orion’s fights. Even though she desired to stay with them, she contemplated on whether it was wise for her to leave Wych Elm as advised by Roxanne.

“I think it’s best I sleep somewhere else tonight.” Lyra overheard Orion say to Roxanne. She hurried downstairs to the kitchen.

“Let me clean you up first-”

Orion kindly dismissed Lyra. “Don’t worry about it, Lyra. I’ll be all right.” He pinched her cheek gently. “I’ll see you later.” He told her sweetly but sneered at Roxanne. “Good night.” He coldly told his twin. Lyra pleaded with Orion to stay but he ignored her.

“The Red Hound’s gonna put you in the ground if you keep sleeping around with Priscilla.” The woman was Ishmael’s lover. She was neither wife nor girlfriend, just a warm body for his pleasure when the Red Hound needed it. Priscilla, in turn, didn’t care about not being loved by Ishmael. She used him to her benefit as Ishmael did with her. The nature of their sexual relationship was strictly transactional.

“Why do you even care?” Orion snorted. “You just told me you wished Horatio and Christian had killed me. It shouldn’t matter if the Red Hound does.” Orion bumped Roxanne with his shoulder on his way to the front door.

It was only Lyra and Roxanne.

“Well… What should we have for dinner tonight?” Lyra sat the First Aid kit down on the counter. “I should clean up this glass and liquid first…” She looked down at the floor. “Do you have a taste for anything in particular, Roxanne?”

Roxanne didn’t have an appetite. “I’m good tonight.” Lyra was disappointed. She longed for the moments when they had meals together. Lyra felt a sense of normalcy, even if only for an hour. They hadn’t sat down and eaten together in months. Roxanne wished Lyra a good night. She left her cousin in the kitchen, grabbed Gemma’s eyes and returned to the room where her memorial altar was.

Roxanne kneeled before the altar, holding the box with Gemma’s eyes in the palms of her hands. Her tears stained the box, turning it darker in certain spots. “Thank you so much, Gemma…” Speaking the dead woman’s name felt so wrong to Roxanne. “I appreciate everything you did for me. I-I… I’m so sorry…” She wept hysterically again for the third time, nearly dropping the box on the floor. In the end, the burden of Gemma’s death fell on Roxanne’s shoulders like Horatio had said. “Why?” The enraged woman shrieked at her parents’ photo. “Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?” Roxanne’s left fist struck against the floor. “Why did you do what you did? Why did you have to turn against the High Families?” The most painful part about her question was the fact Roxanne would never get an answer from her parents.

The Morgenstern family had everything they could buy or want but lost it all in their attempted coup. Roxanne was certain her parents had good reason. The High Families should have been equal to one another, a perfect circle. No family should have been above another. That wasn’t the case, however. There was a hierarchy even among the High Families. The ones who sat at the top were the twin Hightower families. She suspected her parents, and family had grown tired of being treated less than by the Hightowers.

“I despise them too, but the effort wasn’t worth the gamble. Even if we were miserable under them, everything would have still been okay.” Roxanne went from apologizing to her parents earlier to cursing them for their foolish pride.

Roxanne, with trembling hands, placed the box with Gemma’s eyes on her family’s memorial altar. “This table isn’t big enough anymore.” She said on an exhausted sigh.