The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall
By: Katie Alender
“Be my guest,” I said, crossing my arms in front of my chest. His easy, casual manner made me uncomfortable and self-conscious. I would have preferred a harsh taskmaster or a vicious bully—someone I could fight. But he didn’t seem interested in fighting.
“Ah, but you are my guest.” He leaned casually against one of the tall shelves and proceeded to start pulling off his gloves, one finger at a time. “And that is why we need to speak. I confess that I am … troubled. While I do feel quite a bit of admiration for what you’re doing—what you think you’re doing—I’m concerned that it may have unintended consequences. And I see that you’re concerned, as well.”
I didn’t understand what he meant, and my expression must have telegraphed my cluelessness. He gestured around the basement.
“You control your own sense of time,” he said. “Judging by the fact that you’ve created a distortion in this moment, I can only guess that you were apprehensive about your course of action. It’s understandable that you must be dreading the choice ahead of you.”
“What choice?” I asked.
“You face a terrible decision, Delia,” he said, frowning. “It was very clever, employing the blood of an innocent to quench the dark fire. I’m gratified that you show an appreciation for Lord Lindley, a truly fine man and poet. But the time has come now to choose, dear child … Who will survive?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He sighed, as if he was regretful to have to deliver difficult news. “When Jane’s blood touches the dark fire, it will ignite a fuel that has been accruing for nearly one hundred and fifty years. This old incinerator simply won’t be capable of containing the explosion. Therefore, you have two options, the first being to pull your sister away and seal the hatch closed. It will hold, sending the bulk of the force upward through the chimneys, which as you and I both know are already compromised. These particular chimneys go through the wall bordering the lobby—and unfortunately, their weakest point is located just on the other side of the room in which your dear mother and father are, at this very moment, desperately trying to reach your sister. The faulty chimney will no doubt fail at that exact point, effectively destroying the lobby and everything contained within it, including your parents.” He paused. “Your other choice is simply to leave the hatch open, thereby sacrificing your sister in the resultant blast, but saving your parents.”
There was a long silence during which I tried to figure out whether he was lying and came to the conclusion that he wasn’t.
His voice became gentler. “I don’t mean to offer advice, but in your place, I would save your sister. Your parents would most certainly prefer to perish in order to spare her life.”
“I can just get my sister to safety,” I said. “I’ll take her out of the basement—how hard is that?”
“Ah,” he said softly. “But you see, you are at a crossroads—as you always are when you distort time. One must choose at a crossroads; one cannot simply plunge forward, off the path. Simply put, your subconscious would return time to its normal state before you were able to get your sister to safety. Of course, you’re more than welcome to try. But even if you do, I would still close the hatch. As I said, I believe your parents would much rather your sister survive than themselves.”
“Shut up!” I said, gritting my teeth. “You’re evil—of course you’re going to come here and torment me—”
“Torment?” he repeated, a sympathetic lilt in his voice. “Oh no. Delia, I’ve come to help you. I bring an alternative to both of those tragic outcomes.”
The room seemed to be growing warmer, as if the supernatural smoke was already being transformed into blisteringly hot real smoke.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “Why would you help me?”
“You’re smart,” he said. “And you show initiative, which I appreciate very much. My own daughter never quite did; her passivity gave her a lifetime of unhappiness. Therefore, I’m here to offer a compromise. One I think you’ll agree is exceedingly fair.”
“What?” I asked.
“All you must do is reach over and intercept that drop of blood before it makes contact with the fire,” he said, delicately demonstrating in pantomime. “Catch it in your hand and drop it anywhere outside of the incinerator.”
“Why should I do that?” I asked.
“Because if you do, I’ll let your family live. I’ll release them from captivity here … and I’ll release you as well.” He stepped closer, hand pressed to his heart. “I know that your fondest wish is to return to your home and live among them. To belong. To be loved. This way, your wish will be a reality.”
“Like you’d let me go,” I said. “After you murdered me to make me stay.”