The First Night

I live in perpetual confinement. A body, the cell, and this town. A prison, within the prison, within this prison.

Lucky though I may that one of those recently released its hold on me, I still yearn to be free from the other shackles that bind me in place.

My existence has been lonely and incomplete since I first arrived in this forsaken glue trap of a town. While this has been the reality from the moment Scarlets committed their original sin, it was increasingly true these last two decades.

The truth is that part of me is missing. It was an unfortunate necessity that forced us to stay separate for so long. Ultimately, it will be a small price to pay for our eventual freedom.

Upon the passing of Pearlanne Scarlet, the disparate parts of my plan began to shift into place. Finally.

…

The moment my missing piece crosses the threshold, I feel the shift. The pull grows from an indistinct tug to an incessant dragging sensation. Long have I toiled for this. Soon, my plans will come to fruition.

My missing piece has returned to me. They are home.

It is easy to enter the barrier, of course. The trouble is trying to leave again. It is similar to a fish hook—a gentle entrance, manageable so long as you don't try to pull it out in the wrong direction. Only in this case, the town pierces everyone with a bevy of hooks—and there is no correct way to pull these hooks. Trying to leave only results in inadvisable suffering.

I cannot greet my ward yet, so patiently while away the time as Tabitha guides them around the Estate. Once she is gone, I allow myself some time at the piano bench. It is safe for me to indulge in this distraction. They won't be able to hear me play from here, no matter how keen their senses are.

Perhaps if they were stronger or more cunning, they could have caught me unawares, or even made me scramble into the shadows to obscure the ruined face of this vessel. But no, this is merely a passing flight of fancy to entertain me as I restrain myself from approaching them. I must be patient.

I am brought from my reverie when the sound of the front door closing echoes throughout the house. I rise and observe them through the cracked windows.

Once it becomes clear that my charge is heading into the town proper, I move to follow at a distance to keep watch. I would rather not be outside right now, but their leaving the house has forced my hand—I must keep them safe.

My ward meets a few of the town's residents—our fellow prisoners—and tries to get a lay of the land before heading home. Unfortunately, I had not accounted for them being dragged into the wilderness by factors outside of my control. Of course something had to dash my hope that they would return easily to the Estate.

…

It frustrates me to no end that I have to keep my distance. Clearly, I cannot allow myself to stay too distant, though. While observing my charge eating snacks and talking with their new companion, I move closer.

Briefly, they look directly at me and I freeze, even momentarily forgetting to make my vessel breathe. Surely, this agonizing period of prolonged eye contact was unintentional. My ward should not be aware of me yet—at least, not consciously.

Once more I become acutely aware of the bond between us and move to distance myself, hopefully disengaging whatever pull my other half might also be experiencing. Safely out of range, I inhale sharply after remembering the body's cry for oxygen.

As the twilight progresses into proper night, my ward is thrust further into chaos and uncertainty. There is no doubt that their senses have been screaming throughout the evening, warning them that someone would die tonight. This is that moment, and they are forced to make a difficult choice.

Perhaps if they were stronger, this choice would not be as harsh…but that is not the reality in which we live. In the end, death takes one of their companions.

They are left shaken, it is easy to tell even from a distance. Their thoughts are mostly likely disjointed and confused thanks to the adrenaline coursing through their veins.

I can't help but empathize somewhat, even from my position...though my perspective diverges in key ways from their own. There is no doubt in my mind that all too human concerns pile onto their conscience after this brief brush with mortality—not theirs, of course...I would never allow it—but mortality nonetheless.

…

Before they are able to return to the estate, I find myself becoming increasingly impatient. It doesn't take much to finally push my waning restraint over the edge. I can no longer hold back, and step closer—close enough for my presence to be noticed while still keeping the details of my vessel obscured in the darkness.

I watch a slight shudder pass through my ward's body. They should not yet be aware of me, as I am still masking my presence—and yet...it is clear that some perception of theirs is trying to warn them of my approach. This confirms my hunch from earlier that they are unusually astute—perhaps in more ways that one. How curious.

I call out their name. It is challenging to use the voice of this ruined body. The tissue fights me, the vocal chords straining after a prolonged period of disuse and inflammation. The voice that calls out to them does not resemble the voice belonging to this body's original owner.

My ward turns, startled. Our eyes meet, and for a moment it feels like time comes to halt.

I study their visage, struck by the thrill of seeing and being seen by them in turn. They certainly are a Scarlet—the resemblance to their forebears is uncanny. It hasn't escaped my notice how stubbornly persistent certain features are throughout their lineage.

"Welcome home," I force the words from this broken shell's ragged throat. This simple greeting will have to do. Someday, they will know my meaning—the true depth of these words—but that is not today.

They're finally where they're meant to be.

Despite my deep desire to bask in their presence, I disengage from them, slipping back into the shadows. I don't even permit myself to fully observe their reaction.

I am comforted by the knowledge that we will speak again—there will be plenty of time to do so in the future. They need to rest and recover from the day's trials. I must content myself with keeping vigil...for now.

Just six more days, that's all it will take.