Page 29 of Hellebore

“Cole? Why?”

“Because,” Isabel mutters, the word drawn and cautious. “S-she was wearing his jacket, because he had taken the bow. B-because there was a witness to his brutality,”

She hiccups a small sob, twisting her fingers in her collar.

“A witness, who?” Francesca asks, brow deepening, eyes razor sharp on Isabel’s face.

“Me,” Isabel whispers, tugging against her lace collar to reveal her throat. Bruises trail her skin, indents of fingertips that had pressed violently against flesh.

“What happened?” Francesca breathes, stepping forward with curious fingers.

“Cole, I, uh, I let him lead me into the woods. I let him… have me.”

“Excuse me?” Francesca says, stilling. “You allowed Cole to fuck you while I waited in the woods? What are you thinking, Isabel!”

“I was thinking about how… if someone told the police how rough he behaves, how he preys on the women not yet of age… how his eyes turn dark when he sees the hurt on our faces… maybe they’d wonder if he were the ones in the woods that night.”

A moment of quiet tickles the air as Francesca draws a breath, before a laugh escapes her. She shakes her head, a smile fracturing her stern face with joy. She grips Isabel’s hands in hers, kissing my sister’s knuckles with rapid speed, excitement radiating from her.

“Oh, you clever fox,” Francesca cries, tears glistening across her face. “You clever, clever fox.”

Traitors. The forest whispers through the breeze.

“We’re free, Francesca,” Isabel whispers, pulling Francesca to her. Their faces linger a breath apart, as my world begins to spin. The forest rumbles beneath my feet, understanding wrapping through me like vine work – clenching and suffocating me from the inside.

“You and me, my love,” Francesca says, gently placing her fingers against Isabel’s jaw.

“I love you,” Isabel whispers, pressing her forehead to Francesca’s with tenderness.

“I love you,” Francesca whispers in return, slowly drawing her lips to Isabel’s with quiet reverence. A moment of unbridled devotion between them. The moment that should have been mine, that I’m now forced to witness as the old gums whisper of my death through the breeze.

Iwatch them sometimes, still trailing the woodland hand in hand, their faces aging, their smiles dimming as the years slip through their grasp.

Isabel now wears a simple golden wedding band, her belly swelling with unborn life. Francesca’s eyes are dark as she turns to my little sister, sadness woven through the veins beneath her pale skin.

Anger festers somewhere inside me, though it’s dulled to near nothing as my feet silently press to the earth. I’m tethered here, in these trees, doomed to watch the ones who killed me continue their lives as if I meant nothing at all. A ghost of the fables, tied to the forest.

“I’ll always love you,” Francesca whispers, her hand gripped to Isabel’s jaw, forceful in her consumption. She plants kisses to her jaw, her lips lingering against my sister’s skin as her fingers grip tightly to her neck, holding her in place. Urgent and possessive.

“I’m sorry,” Isabel whispers in return, tears clinging to her cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter now,’ Francesca says, drawing back from her, wiping away the wayward tears and trailing shaking hands down Isabel’s arms.

“I really did want to go, Frannie. I did.” There’s a fracture in Isabel’s voice, and for a moment, it’s as though I’m watching that small girl again. That baby sister who followed me around, longing to be involved in everything I did. My heart cracks beneath the weight of it. The knowing that it will never be that way again. “But I couldn’t leave mother alone. I was all she had left.”

“She doesn’t deserve you, Isa. You deserved better than this.”

Francesca’s eyes blaze with hardly contained rage, her jaw clenching as she recalls the hopeful plan that slipped through her fingers.

“It’s not so bad, truly. I’m excited for the baby. Excited for the future.”

“A future of being a wife, slaving to your husband? What kind of future is that, when you could have been free, with me?”

Isabel blanches as Francesca spits at her, disgusted by the choices Isabel made. She can’t understand it, the roots that tether us here. But I do, I understand how it feels to want to leave, to long for it, but feel bound to the earth when our feet stray from our path.

“That’s not fair, Frannie,” Isabel sighs, her eyes red and swollen as she blinks through tears. “This life may not be for you, but when Heather died, something changed in me. I realised I wasn’t cut out for more than this. This is who I am, this is my blood. I’m meant to be here.”

“Right,” Francesca laughs, a bitter sound that echoes sharply through the damp leaves.