OPHELIA: Chapter 54

Blurb

Elizabeth Lockwick wants one thing… to ensure Ophelia remains dead.

For years she’s weaved a life seen through rose-coloured glasses in idyllic Vermont with her husband Sebastian Lockwick, an alluring man with a broken moral compass, whose intent lies in protecting his wife. However, apart from her unorthodox understanding of Sebastian’s dark and gritty hidden nature, she finds herself slipping away from her sanity in maintaining this picturesque life.

After receiving a gruesome gift from an unknown sender threatening to expose her, she finds herself haunted and possibly hunted by her buried past.

In order to make things right for herself and ensure that her secret is hidden, she reluctantly travels back to her sleepy small hometown in Wisconsin. A town where young girls seem to be mysteriously disappearing. There, she reunites with the dysfunctional Pierre-Louis’, a French-American family who sheltered her in their manor in her time of need.

With time slipping away, she struggles with her guilt and a dangerous affair and realizes that perhaps Ophelia wasn’t dead after all these years.

Elizabeth suddenly finds herself caught in a game of cat and mouse, unsure of which she really is this time and who she can trust.

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Chapter 54

Her stomach split in two as she groaned from the impact. Before she could have even been able to process what was happening, someone yanked a fistful of her hair in their hands and roughly pulled her up. She felt the intense shot of pure pain needle like stabs into the pores of her head. If she hadn’t forced herself to stand, she was certain they would have pulled her head off her body.

“Father, let her go. Now isn’t the time.” Sebastian spoke calmly.

“Joseph!” The sheriff’s voice suddenly echoed through the room sternly, until she was released. Sheriff Gill Gomez stood along with Father Greywood who began to speak. They kept their gaze only on Joseph Lockwick, “You are no longer welcomed here, Joseph. You are no longer a part of what we built. You fed your soul to the wrong God. Look at you, look at yourself, pathetic. You can’t even hold yourself together without a drop of alcohol and a smoke. You cling to your only living son in order to maintain your stance with us but no more. We will not accommodate you anymore just for who he is.”

“You forget,” Joseph hissed, “You needed me.”

“And now we do not,” the Sheriff chuckled, “Leave before you further embarrass yourself.”

 Joseph Lockwick spat before them, hate iced from his eyes. He snapped his face towards Ophelia. This was the first time she had been so near to him. His eyes were as deep and heavy as Sebastian’s, his face plagued with weary and aged lines, and his skin was a direct reflection of how rotten his soul was. In a low, hushed voice, he said coldly, “I’m not even sure who I hate more.” With that, he walked away, ushered by two men at the door.

The room suddenly fell to a silence and all eyes were now upon her. Her eyes, however, scanned the room in hopes that she could take note of where Mya could have been.  

“Ophelia,” the pastor cooed her name into his mouth.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she hissed as disgust swirled like a tornado of puke and shit within her, “All of you. Your wives, daughters, sisters, they all look up to you. They respect you. You are expected to protect them. And yet here you are, here you all are sitting in your red velvet chairs, sipping red wine, behaving as if you’re done nothing wrong. You use stupid little girls like Sally to get your way. You manipulate them, rape them, kill them. Women are nothing but objects to you. You love instilling fear in them. Torturing them. Chasing us, hurting us; physically, emotionally.” She stopped to swallow her thickened spit, “You wouldn’t leave me. You wouldn’t let me live.”

“There are consequences for your actions,” Father Greywood spoke coolly.

A sudden nerve snapped within her as he said that. Rage filled her bloodstream mixed with a hateful disgust towards these monsters. “Fuck you, Father. Fuck all of you. For hurting these innocent girls, for hurting those I loved, for doing what you did to Monty, for killing my parents. You think I don’t know.”

Sheriff Gill slammed his fist on the table and pointed a finger at her, “Your parents! Your parents-”

“Wanted to leave and you didn’t let them!” She finished, “They knew too much, didn’t they?”

The sheriff was about to speak when suddenly Father Greywood raised his hand and silenced him. He neared Ophelia, cupping her both cheeks in his hands, as Sebastian held her hands firmly behind. “So impure. So unclean. We must do our God a favor and rid her of here.”

She struggled but Sebastian held her still as Greywood continued and stapled his gaze upon her chest, “We looked for you, always kept an eye for you, protected you, fed you, and now I will make sure my men do what they must with you, until you are nothing but blood and broken bones.”

“And may your soul go to a place worse than hell, Father.”

“Lock her up. I’ll send the men down shortly,” he instructed to Sebastian who nodded and pulled her along with him. The heavy door closed behind him as he walked along the hallway with her in a morbid silence. She was processing what had happened, what will happen, until Sebastian stopped abruptly to take note of the image before them.

His father, Joseph Lockwick, slumped at the corner of the hall in a pool of blood. His neck was slashed deeply, and he was far from alive. Ophelia dared to look up at the expression upon Sebastian’s face. It was one she did not understand, almost like a nothingness and yet too many emotions all at once. He took a shallow breath, she wasn’t sure if it was one filled with pain or relief. Instead of uttering a single word, he pulled her along with him. The hallway grew darker and darker, and they were soon walking down a staircase to what seemed to be the basement.

They came to a dimly lit room with a foul stench. The walls were unpainted, and the flooring was damp and dirty. The entire atmosphere was dusty and felt utterly impure. Ophelia scowled, feeling this sharp coldness iced into her veins. Goosebumps fluttered over her skin as they stopped before a row of iron cages. Each big enough to fit a single human.

Her stomach dropped. Had this been…? Did they keep the girls here? Most cages were empty. And those which were, were stained with old dark blood.

“Sebastian,” she whispered, unsure what to even think of this place. Ophelia always knew it was bad, but she hadn’t thought how sickly real and terrible this nightmare truly was.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” she answered quietly and turned to him who had already been staring at her.

“You trusted me in there,” he noted. “Why?”

She gave a soft, slow breath, and with a sad smile she answered, “I don’t know.”

His softened expression turned back to stone, “We don’t have much time,” he began, gave her a key and pointed, “The girl’s at the last one on the right. Just beyond there’s an iron door with two guards. While you get her, I’ll take care of them and come back for you. Understood?”

She nodded.

“Good,” he said and walked away, towards the iron door far ahead.

**

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