Excerpt from the Journal of Christopher Paisley
May 21st, 1953
I should not be surprised. I did so much to ensure our family’s good name remained unsullied by my wretch of a brother and yet after all my hard work, his daughter comes and tries to ruin things anew. I wonder now if perhaps taking her in was a mistake. Not long ago, I had hoped that I might be able to marry Vera into a respectable family. Now, those hopes are all but dashed. She has made every possible effort to sabotage the good name of the Paisley family and so my patience is at its end.
She was caught with an old school friend of hers this time, a girl by the name of Sophie from some no name family. She can’t even choose her bloody indiscretions from good stock… I truly am at a loss for words. How am I to handle this? I took every precaution. I did everything in my power to ensure that my brother’s sexual perversions did not ruin our good name and now his daughter insists on repeating his mistakes.
I sent Mr. Moore to collect Vera this afternoon after I’d received a call about her behavior from the very concerned mother of her most current lover. When he returned with her, I was waiting in the sitting room.
“When we last had this conversation, you assured me that you would stay in line,” I said to her. “I have to ask, did you knowingly lie to me? Or was this simply the weakness of your character showing through?”
Vera did not answer me. She only stared, tense and afraid.
“Silence is not an answer,” I told her as I rose from my chair to pour myself a bourbon.
“I must know, do you do these things just to spite me? After everything I’ve done for you, taking you in, feeding you, clothing you, allowing you to live comfortably under my roof, is this the way you choose to repay me?”
“I didn’t mean to…” Vera said quietly, “I’m sorry…”
“Didn’t mean to?” I repeated, “So this was a mistake, then? An accident? If so, dare I ask how this happened? What contrived series of events led your hand up her skirt? Please, do tell me. I’m quite curious. And while you’re at it, I’m sure you’ll also explain the lipstick on your neck.”
Vera paused, pressing a hand to her neck and looking away from me in shame.
“My father, your grandfather, spent his life working for this family,” I said. “Every night, he slaved away to keep us comfortable. His hard work permitted your father and I to grow up in relative comfort. He was the one who built this family up from nothing. It is because of him that we are where we are right now. Do you understand that? It is because of him that the Paisley name is respected today. However just as our father built up our legacy, all it takes is one weak link in the family to tear it all down. I would hate for that to be you, Vera. What a sad legacy it would be for the Paisley name to die out because of you.”
I took a sip of my drink, watching as she shrank away from me.
“I promise, Uncle… It won’t happen again,” She said. Her voice small and meek.
“I’ve heard that before,” I replied, drawing closer to her. “Last time it was a lie. Why should I believe you this time?”
“Will you lay off the girl?” A voice said from behind me. I turned to see Mary entering the room. She went to Vera’s side, putting a hand on her shoulder. My eyes narrowed at the sight of her. I should have expected her to come running the moment she’d heard Vera’s voice. Why she’d taken such a shine to the girl was beyond me… but I wasn’t about to let her my fiancee’s brat of a sister interrupt a private family affair.
“This doesn’t concern you, Mary,” I said.
“It does now,” she replied. “I’m not going to stand idly by as you drag this poor girl in and tear into her like that. Treat her with some goddamned dignity.”
I caught myself grimacing as she talked back to me and had half a mind to strike her across the face for it. But from the corner of my eye, I saw Lara watching us from the door. My fiancee took a drag of her cigarette, her emerald eyes burning into mine and making me think better of striking Mary.
“When she can behave with dignity, I’ll treat her with it,” I said and Mary just huffed at me, draping an arm over Vera.
“Come on. Don’t mind him.”
She led her away, through the door, and past Lara who kept her eyes trained on me.
“You’re going to allow her to speak to me like that?” I asked once I was sure Vera and Mary were out of earshot.
“I saw no reason to stop her,” Lara replied, taking another drag of her cigarette, “We could hear you from across the house.”
“Could you? I didn’t believe I was being particularly loud,” I said.
“Oh, we have very good ears.”
Through the door behind her, I could see Mr. Moore out in the entrance hall looking in at us. The moment he realized I’d spotted him, he went back to pretending to work.
Good ears… rubbish.
“The girl needs to be disciplined,” I said. “If she were our daughter, you would want me to do the same.”
“If you think I’d allow you to speak to any child of mine that way, then you’re painfully mistaken,” Lara said stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind her. “I feel I should be clear with you, Christopher. While I have no doubts that you understand the necessary mutual benefits of our engagement, I cannot help but wonder if you’re failing to understand the expectations.”
“What expectations?” I asked, “I will be your husband. You will be my wife.”
“On paper, yes,” Lara said, “And when we are married, you will eventually be able to add the Darling Fashion house to the list of companies owned by your family. However, that does not mean I will allow you will speak to me with that level of disrespect.”
“So long as you stay in line, I won’t,” I assured her. Lara’s brow furrowed slightly. She took another drag of her cigarette.
“An attitude like that will not get you very far in life, Christopher,” She said. “And it will not get you very far with me. We are not married yet and you are not the only means my family has of expanding into the English market. You are replaceable. Do not forget that.”
“Respect is a two way street, my dear,” I warned her. “Do keep that in mind.”
I left her there, returning to my office with my drink. I had work to complete and locked the door behind me so that I would not be disturbed.
Once again, I find myself complicating the necessity of marrying Lara Darling. I recognize that her family has considerable influence and a union between us would be beneficial to all parties. The Darlings have been looking for a way to get their product not only onto English shelves but onto the shelves of her colonies. My family can facilitate that. In many ways, we are a match made in heaven. I know that our marriage is not for the sake of love. In Lara’s own words, her family believes in blood ties. If I want to work with the Darlings, I must become part of their family. While I find the practice a little antiquated, I was not going to turn down such a lovely bride. Only a madman would say no to a woman with both fortune and beauty.
However in the month since she’s moved in, I’ve discovered that Lara herself is an incredibly strange and vexing creature. Outwardly she is quite beautiful with intense green eyes and honey blonde hair. Her face suggests Greek or Turkish heritage and in all ways, she is lovely to behold, yet she carries herself with a stiff posture that reminds me of a soldier. Her expression is usually cold and unsmiling. Her voice is low and almost always calm.
Her sister is even more baffling. Why Lara insisted that Mary come with her remains unclear to me. Lara stated that she and her sister are simply very close. That much is evident to me, but I’m not convinced that it justifies bringing her from America to England with her. Does Mary not have her own romantic prospects elsewhere? It seems odd to me that a woman of her age has not been married off already, although whenever I have brought up the subject, Lara has dismissed it.
In fact, she seems to dismiss most things when it comes to me. What use is a beautiful wife if she’ll have nothing to do with you? She sleeps in my bed and yet will not permit me to lay a hand on her. She eats my food but rarely speaks to me. Now she and her sister seem to be involving themselves in my private affairs with my family, questioning my methods of handling Vera’s indiscretions. Indiscretions that could well ruin their good name too if they came out! Where does one draw the line, I wonder?
As I stew in my doubts, I find myself thinking back to the spring evening two months ago when I was first introduced to the sisters. One of my late father’s business partners, Miss Bianca Lucia Di Cesare had arranged the introduction over dinner. Perhaps I may have been better off wedding one of Di Cesare’s daughters. Lord knows, she has girls to spare. Twelve, most unmarried, one deceased. Perhaps I might have been better off. Perhaps I may still be better off.
No, no… It would not look right to call off the wedding. I will simply need to be stricter with my betrothed and her sister. I’ll simply need to teach them their place within my household.
Excerpt from the Journal of Christopher Paisley
May 23rd, 1953
Lara continues to test my patience. Last night, she returned home around midnight. The sound of her entering our bedroom roused me from my slumber.
“Where have you been?” I asked her as she crossed the bedroom, discarding her handbag and her shoes.
“Mary, Vera, and I were simply enjoying the culture of Belfast,” She replied, not even looking at me as she spoke, “Bianca is back in town. W had some drinks with her and a few of her girls.”
“Where?” I asked.
“A casino in town? ‘La Sogno’. You were there once, I recall.”
La Sogno. I recognized it. Owned by the husband of one of Di Cesare’s daughters.
“What gives you the right to take my niece out on your little excursions?” I asked.
“Your niece is twenty two. She’s entitled to make her own decisions,” Lara said, “Besides, Mary and I are still unfamiliar with Belfast. We enjoy having a guide and Bianca enjoys her company.”
“You took her to a bloody casino with your friends, you hardly needed a guide,” I snapped. Lara finally looked at me, her expression stern and disapproving.
“Have you read the papers, lately?” I asked, changing my approach.
“Have you heard about the bodies that have turned up across town? In that same neighborhood. Grown men found with their throats slashed. One of them was even found not even a block from La Sogno. Think practically, Lara. It’s dangerous to be out so late at night. I’ll not allow you to risk your life or Vera’s!”
She actually chuckled at that. It was a humorless, hollow sound.
“Oh, does my husband worry for my safety now?” She asked, “How sweet. My heart flutters.”
“I’m simply saying, that part of town is hardly safe. I’ll be willing to bet that those men who were killed, were killed by thieves looking to steal the winnings of some lucky gambler. Were they to chance upon you, they would see you as an easy mark.”
Lara looked me in the eye now, her expression as calm as ever.
“I can assure you, Christopher, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” She assured me, “Mary, Vera and I are perfectly safe with Bianca. Now please. Go back to bed.”
I was inclined to argue with her about this more, but she turned away from me to remove her earrings. With those off, she departed to the bathroom to change into her nightgown.
I read in the paper this morning that there was another death last night. A man was found with his throat slashed two blocks away from La Sogno. His blood had been completely drained. I’ve contemplated showing the article to Lara, but what good will it do? She does not seem interested in listening to my concerns. I’m not sure if she’s simply foolhardy, or if there is some other reason for her confidence.
Excerpt from the Journal of Christopher Paisley
May 24th, 1953
Is there no respite to be had from Vera and her childish behavior? When I awoke this morning, she was gone. She did not come down for breakfast when called and when I sent Mr. Moore to collect her from her bedroom, she was absent.
I sent Mr. Moore to drive out onto the road looking for her, before searching the grounds of our estate with Mary and Lara. Shortly before ten, Mr. Moore returned with Vera in the back seat of his car. I had him bring her to my sitting room immediately so I could better understand what exactly it was that had gotten into her.
“Where did you intend to go?” I asked, “Who did you think would take you in? That whore from a few days ago? Someone else? Or did you perhaps think you could make it on your own? Is that it?”
“I was going to Bianca’s,” Vera said, her voice cracked and trembling with impotent rage, “And if she didn’t take me, I’d find someplace else. Anywhere that wasn’t with you.”
I struck her with the back of my hand for that. She collapsed down onto the couch, clutching her cheek in pain.
“It’s because of me that you have a roof over your head,” I replied sternly. “It’s because of me that you live so comfortably. Your father? He did not have what it takes to maintain the business that our father started! Even if he had lived, he could not have ever provided for you as I have provided for you! You should be thanking me with your every breath! Do you know where you would be if it weren’t for me? Dead in the streets! Throat torn open and bleeding into the streets!”
“Fuck you,” Vera snarled and I raised my hand to hit her again.
An iron grip caught me by the wrist, and I turned to see Mary standing beside me.
“Enough,” She said. I tried to pull my hand out of her grasp, but she refused to let go.
“I will discipline this girl as I see fit,” I growled at her.
“Then I will discipline you, as I see fit.” Mary replied, eyes locked against mine. In fact, her expression almost perfectly mirrored the icy glare of her sister. Her attention shifted to Vera.
“Upstairs,” She said. “I’ll talk to you afterward.”
Vera didn’t wait around. Giving me one last bitter glare as she left the room. As my eyes met hers, I saw something in them that I hadn’t seen before. Not just anger. I knew what Vera’s anger looked like. This was something deeper. Something crueler. Hatred. Our eyes only met for a moment, then she was gone. Mary waited until her footsteps faded away before speaking again.
“And you wonder why she runs away from you?” She asked.
“I have treated that girl with nothing but kindness!” I snapped.
“Yes, that was very kind of you to leave that bruise on her cheek. Would you like me to do the same for you?”
Her grip on my wrist tightened, easing a cry of pain out of me. I hadn’t thought Mary was quite so strong before.
“You know the other night, all she talked about was you… How much she despised you, how every day living with you is a fresh new hell. I have to say, having spent the past month with you Christopher, I’m inclined to agree. Maybe it’s time you learned your place in this family… what do you think?”
She twisted my wrist, forcing me down onto my knees. I could see a cruel smile on her lips as slowly, she began to bend my wrist backward. The pain I felt grew more and more intense. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming and then…
“Leave him.”
Mary paused, looking over to the door as Lara stepped inside. She sauntered past us, going straight for my liquor and pouring herself a gin and tonic.
“Why?” Mary demanded.
“Would you like to spend the next week or so listening to him complain about his broken wrist?” She asked, “Because, I suspect it would get very annoying after the first day or so.”
She took a sip of her drink, before pouring another one for Mary.
“The decision is yours of course. I just feel that it’s not very practical.”
Mary scoffed before letting me go. I collapsed to the ground, clutching my wrist in pain.
“Lay another hand on her, and next time I will break it,” She warned me before going to the bar. She snatched up her drink, took a sip, and then left. Lara watched her go before staring down at me. Then, she took a third glass and poured me a bourbon.
“This is the part where you say ‘thank you.’” She said.
I just picked myself up and took both the glass she’d poured me and the rest of the bottle.
“Piss off,” I said breathlessly before leaving her.
I called Mr. Moore into my office almost an hour later.
“Mr. Paisley, is there something I can do for you?” He asked, prim and proper as always.
“Sit,” I ordered and took another sip of my drink. Mr. Moore did as asked.
“Did Vera say anything when you found her this morning?” I asked, “Anything that might give you an idea as to why she left?”
Mr. Moore was silent for a moment. I wasn’t sure if he was struggling to recall what was said or trying to think up a lie.
“She said she needed to ask Miss Di Cesare some questions,” he finally said. “Regarding her father.”
“What would Bianca know about Julian?” I asked, “I don’t believe they ever met.”
“If I recall, there were some… rumors around the time of Julian’s death,” Mr. Moore said. “Specifically regarding the nature of his injuries. Miss Di Cesare would have been quite aware of those, wouldn’t she?”
“He dove into the pool and hit his head. It was an accident,” I said dismissively.
“Yes, of course,” Mr. Moore said. “I told Vera as much myself. Although… I have always found one thing a little suspicious…”
I paused, looking over at him.
“He died so suddenly after telling you that he and I intended to leave together, didn’t he? Was it the next day, perhaps? Or maybe two days. I can’t quite recall.”
“An unfortunate coincidence,” I replied bitterly.
“Was it?” Mr. Moore asked, “All these years and I’ve wondered…”
“Whatever you’re insinuating, stop it,” I warned. “If you’d like to accuse me of something then you may find yourself unemployed and unwelcome on my property. Need I remind you how dangerous Belfast has been lately? I imagine an older gentleman like yourself might not fare well out on the streets. The next body they find out there could easily be yours.”
“Of course, sir.” Mr. Moore said, “I meant no offense.”
“Then don’t offend me again!” I snapped, “Keep your suspicions to yourself. You don’t need to share them with Vera and fill her head with stories of some inane conspiracy about her father’s death… am I clear?”
“Of course, sir.” Mr. Moore said, “Is there anything else?”
“No, get out of my sight,” I said and watched as he left.
Excerpt from the Journal of Christopher Paisley
May 24th, 1953 (Evening)
I did nothing wrong. I did NOTHING wrong. Julian was a disgrace. He didn’t deserve to be fathers favorite. He would have ruined the business. He never had the head for it. Ah, but since he was the eldest, father placed all the expectations upon him.
Oh, how he would have rolled in his grave if he knew what Julian was! He would have disowned him, he should have disowned him! That dirty little bastard.
I knew something was wrong. Even before he’d gotten married, I knew something was wrong. The ‘friends’ he’d bring home. The obsessions that came and went. Something never quite fit with them. Not until after I realized what he was.
I’d caught him the first time when he was engaged. He’d brought home some man from a party and I heard them in his bedroom. Father never found out about it, I couldn’t bear to tell him. I couldn’t bear to tell his wife either. Oh, his wife… poor sweet Eileen.
I’ll bet he cheered the night she died. I’ll bet he held baby Vera in his arms and thanked her a thousand times for killing her own mother as she came out of the womb. Because in doing so, she set him free. Free to unleash hell upon the good name of our family. Free to destroy the legacy our father built!
I tried to be patient with him. I confronted him with the truth and begged him not to continue these indiscretions of his. But he refused to listen… and when he told me he was leaving with Moore of all people, the fucking butler, I couldn’t sit idly by anymore. He would have destroyed us. Our family, our legacy. He would have destroyed everything our father worked for.
I had no choice. It needed to be done for the sake of the family name.
Julian had already handed the business off to me. I’ve raised his daughter for ten years now. I’ve tried to save her from going down the same path he did. What more can I do in penance? What more can I do?
I need another drink.
Excerpt from the Journal of Christopher Paisley
May 27th, 1953
I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel as if I’m slowly losing control. Lara was out late again tonight. I sat up waiting for her to come in. She didn’t return until past three in the morning.
“Where in God’s name have you been?” I demanded when I saw her coming in through the front door, Mary in tow behind her.
Mary shot me a look immediately, although Lara dismissed her with a wave of her hand.
“Enjoying my evening,” she said to me. “At La Sogno.”
“Until three in the morning?” I asked.
“Time slipped away from us. I would assume that you know these things tend to happen when you drink with friends, although I suppose you would first need to have friends in order to know that, wouldn’t you?”
“Enough!” I snapped, “I have asked you time and time again not to go out like this. Yet time and time again you have ignored me. I will not stand for this any further! If I tell you not to do something, then you do not do it, am I clear? Do you understand? I am your husband and you will respect my wi-”
Lara’s hand shot out, catching me across the face. Her expression didn’t change from stoic disinterest as she slapped me.
Before I could recover, she’d grabbed me by the chin, forcing me to look into her eyes.
“Your wishes mean nothing to me, Christopher,” She said. “I am not obligated to defer to your requests. You and I may soon be husband and wife, but do not make the mistake of assuming this relationship is anything more than a business transaction. Do not assume that I can love you, because I feel nothing. Do not petition me for sex, because I have no interest in it. Once you and I are wed, then you and I will only see each other when it is necessary. Is that clear? You may keep as many mistresses as you please. Treat them as disposable pleasures or start families with them. It truly does not matter to me. But understand that from my perspective, you are simply a means to an end and with God as my witness, if you ever speak to me like this again, then it will be the last time you ever speak. You are not in control here, Christopher. I am.”
She let me go and turned away, heading for the stairs and leaving me shellshocked in the entrance hall.
“Who is he?” I finally asked.Lara paused a the top of the stairs, looking back at me.
“He?” She asked, “You think I’m having an affair?”
“Are you?” I asked.
“Christopher, if I was having an affair, then why would I be bringing my sister with me?”
I had no answer for that.
Without a further word, she disappeared down the hallway toward the bedroom. I watched her go before following her to bed.
As I reached the top of the stairs, I heard a door close to my left. I looked down the hall to see the light underneath Vera’s door go out. Had she been watching us? I wasn’t sure. A little closer to the stairs, I could see the door of my office hanging ajar and paused before deciding that I wasn’t ready to face Lara again. I wanted bourbon.
And so I sit here now, scribbling down my thoughts beside this empty bottle. Reading back over my past entries, I can’t help but wonder if the events of these last few days are the symptom of a greater illness. I no longer feel like the master of my own home. I no longer feel like anything at all.
Excerpt from the Journal of Christopher Paisley
May 28th, 1953
I was in my office when Vera came for me. I’d topped off my bourbon and was in the middle of some work when I heard the door open. I looked up, expecting Mr. Moore to be standing there, and was instead greeted by the sight of Vera, staring at me with those hate filled eyes of hers.
“Can this wait? I’m busy?” I asked before I noticed what it was she held in her hands.
A book. A book I recognized. My journal. This very book.
I checked my desk only to find the drawer I kept it in empty. I looked back at her feeling my pulse start to race in my chest as I did.
“I found this last night,” she said. There was a coldness in her voice that reminded me of the Darling Sisters, “I’ve been thinking a lot about something Bianca said to me the other night. About my father… about how she always thought his death sounded suspicious…”
“I’ve told you this before,” I said trying to keep my voice level. “Your father had an accident. He fell. He hit his head in the pool and fell unconscious. When we found him, he’d already drowned.”
“Did he?” She asked, “Mr. Moore didn’t seem to believe that when I asked him about it. In fact, he said that you probably knew more… so I thought I’d find out for myself.”
She held up the journal shaking it lightly before opening it.
“I didn’t think I’d find anything but, I guess you were really drunk the other night. The handwriting is messier than usual but I can still make it out. A few days ago, you wrote: ‘I had no choice. It needed to be done for the sake of the family name.’ What exactly did you have no choice but to do?”
“Vera, I was drunk!” I cried, rising up from my desk, “If you must know, Julian and I got into an argument. Yes… I never approved of his choice of romantic partners and I will admit, I was not happy when he announced he wanted to abandon this family to eke out a modest, miserable existence with the goddamned butler. But I did not murder him! It was an accident!”
“Then tell me what happened to my father!” Vera snapped, her voice cracking as she did.
I glared at her, and she returned my glare with pure venom in her eyes.
“Our altercation got physical…” I said, the worst drifting out of my mouth. I couldn’t stop them. Then again, was there any point in lying to her anymore?
“I may have pushed him at one point. He fell. He hit his head. That much was never a lie,” I said, “Something needed to be done, he was already dead! Would you have preferred I hid the body? Left him in the walls to be wondered about and discovered by accident years later? I let him die with dignity!”
Even as I said that, I remembered the way Julian had spoken my name as I’d dragged him toward the pool. I remembered hitting him again as he’d started to struggle before I rolled him over the edge and into the water.
Vera still stared at me, her breathing growing heavier.
“Dignity…” she repeated.
“I did what I had to do!” I said, “If Julian had left, if people had found out about him they would’ve mocked us! We would have lost their respect! Everything our father worked for would have been ruined! Do you understand that? And if people thought that I had killed him, then things would have been even worse! I protected this family, Vera! I took you in. I raised you as my own! I have cared for you and done everything in my power to keep you from repeating his mistakes!”
“You murdered him,” Vera said. Her voice trembled and I could see her fighting back the tears of rage.
“Did you not listen to a WORD I just said?” I snarled. In my rage, I hurled the bottle of bourbon at her. It shattered against the wall behind her, making her flinch, “I protected him! I protected us!”
She just shook her head, taking a step back.
“I’m taking this to the police…” she said, backing toward the door. “I’m going to burn you to the ground, you miserable bastard… I swear to God…”
“You’ll do no such thing!” I hissed, rounding my desk and storming toward her. She turned to run, but I was faster. I caught her by the hair as she burst out into the hall, dragging her back into my office and throwing her against the nearby wall. I pulled the door closed and stood in front of it, blocking her escape.
“I have done everything for this family! You will not destroy everything my father built!”
She scrambled away from me, her feet scraping against the broken bottle I’d thrown. I saw her eyes dart down toward it and snatched the jagged neck of the bottle, holding it between her and I.
“Don’t touch me!” She cried.
I lunged for her. I felt a sharp pain against my cheek as she slashed at my face and I caught her by the wrist before she could cut me again. I forced her arm to the side before catching her in the face with a closed fist. Vera let out a pained cry, dropping my journal as I forced her up against the wall. I ripped the bottle neck from her hand and buried it into her stomach, over and over and over again. I could hear her muted gasp of pain. I saw her eyes widen as she realized that this was it. This was the end of her life.
With one final grunt of rage, I slammed her against the wall, driving the broken bottle deep into her stomach one last time before ripping it out. I took a step back, panting heavily and watching as she slid down onto the floor, her hands clutched to her bloody stomach and her eyes fixated on me and filled with terror.
“Now look what you’ve made me do…” I said before picking up my journal off the ground. I stuffed it into my jacket pocket before looking down at Vera again. She wasn’t dead yet, but she would be soon. Her skin had gone an entire shade paler. I knew then that I couldn’t stay… I couldn’t hide this, the way I’d hidden Julian’s death. I’d need to leave Belfast. I could never return.
But first, I wondered if it would be kinder to slit Vera’s throat to finish her off or let her drift off as she bled out.
Before I could decide, I heard the door to my office open and froze.
I looked over to see Lara standing in the doorway, her hands folded behind her back and her cold green eyes focused on me.
“Lara…” I stammered, “I-”
“Quiet.” Her voice was as calm as ever. She stepped into the office, with Mary following in her footsteps. Lara’s eyes shifted down to Vera and I saw her lip pull back in disgust. Her attention returned to me and the silence between us suddenly seemed deafening. I could hear my very heart racing in my ears.
Without saying a word, she looked at Mary who nodded before taking a step toward me.
“Stay back!” I warned, holding up the broken bottle, but before I could do much to react, Mary had me by the wrist again and this time she didn’t hold back. I felt the bones snapping as she twisted it, forcing me down to the ground again. The bottle slipped out of my hand and crashed against the ground. She let me go, staring down at me with a satisfied smirk on her face.
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, Christopher,” Lara said as she approached Vera. Vera just looked up at her, struggling to breathe. She watched as Lara crouched down in front of her, studying the wounds in her stomach.
“I had hoped you would see this opportunity for what it was. A necessary formality. Our company’s product would enter a new market through your company’s storefronts. You would be free to enjoy your life, free from the obligations of a marriage for as long as you chose. My sister and I would have moved on, leaving you to your own private affairs. If you’d asked me, I would have even granted you an amicable separation once I had everything I needed.”
“I was protecting my family…” I stammered.
“From what, Christopher? Idle gossip? Fulfilling relationships? What?”
She scoffed.
“Well, it hardly matters now. My sister and I will be ‘protecting the family’ going forward and you… you will be protecting the gentlemen at La Sogno once Bianca departs next week. With you here, we won’t need to bother feeding on them.”
“What?” I asked and Lara looked at me again, baring her teeth at me. For the first time, I noticed just how long her canines were.
Suddenly it all clicked into place. Their late nights at La Sogno. The corpses that had been appearing around town. Oh God… They’d been feeding on people. They’d been living under my very roof and feeding on people, killing them!
And now they had me.
Looking at Lara and Mary, I felt a primal terror swallow me whole, draining the color from my skin and making my heart race a thousand miles faster in my chest.
“So long as Mary and I pace ourselves, I don’t see why you couldn’t last us months or even years,” Lara continued. “I must confess, I have been wondering just how you might taste. I’ve been very generous in restraining myself so far. No more… but first things first.”
Her attention shifted back to Vera. She was still hanging on by just a thread. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly.
“He’s done such a number on you, hasn’t he?” She asked.
Vera gave a slow, half nod.
“How would you like to return the favor? I can save you Vera if you want me to.”
Vera’s eyes drifted over to me, watching me closely. Slowly, she nodded her head. For the first time, I saw a gentle smile cross Lara’s face.
She held up her own wrist to her mouth and sank her teeth into it, drawing blood. Then she offered her bleeding wrist to Vera.
“Drink,” she commanded.
And Vera drank, pressing her mouth to Lara’s wrist and swallowing greedy mouthful after greedy mouthful of her blood.
“Don’t worry, even with three of us I can assure you that you will make it to our wedding,” Lara said, watching as Vera drank from her. “I can also assure you, that when you wake up every single morning, you will ask me to kill you and I will say ‘No.’”
Vera pulled back from Lara’s wrist, gasping for air. Her eyes were wide. Her shirt was still covered in blood but there was something different about her. She sounded like she was in both pain and ecstasy at the same time. She was changing. She was becoming one of them.
And she would be feeding on me first.
The door to the office hung open before me. Mary was watching as Vera tuned. I had one opening and I took it.
Scrambling on three limbs like an animal, I raced for the door. I saw Mary grab for me, but saw Lara reach a hand out to stop her. As I burst into the hall, cradling my broken wrist to my chest, I heard her voice call out after me.
“By all means, run, Christopher! Hide if you must! But we will find you.”
As I tore down the stairs, I saw Mr. Moore watching me from the sitting room, a glass of my own bourbon in his hand. He raised it to me as a toast, smiling as I tore through the door and out into the night.
I have found refuge in a small halfway house and in the time since I have escaped, I have written down all that I can remember. I will leave Belfast tonight. God willing, I will never see Vera or the Darlings again. I will not let them have me!
Note:
The preceding journal was found during the demolition of the former Paisley Estate outside of Belfast, Northern Ireland. Records show that Mr. Paisley was married to Lara Darling in July of 1953. They had two daughters together, Mia and Lia Darling who would go on to operate both the Darling Fashion House and Paisley Menswear. On the recommendation of his wife as a result of concerns regarding Mr. Paisley’s failing mental health, he remained confined to his home until 1956 when he passed away due to an unspecified illness.
Due to Mr. Paisley’s history of mental health issues during his later life, the validity of this journal is still a matter of debate with many believing some of the later entries were symptoms of Mr. Paisley’s growing instability.
Vera Paisley left the UK in 1953 and records show she worked for the Di Cesare Jewelry company up until 1962. Curiously, no further records of her exist after that.