Chapter Text
For centuries, Helena’s memory of her own face had been reserved to the portrait that hung in the stairwell, the one she’d had made while she’d still been able to see her reflection. It had been accurate then, but there was no longer any way for her to tell how her face might have changed.
She thought, perhaps, that it might still be similar to the one she was staring at now.
Helly laid still on the plush burgundy couch, asleep. Helena was observing her from across the coffee table, perched on her own armchair as she waited. She was running her fingers along the black feathers adorning the edges of her robe, impatient and preoccupied. She hoped it would be soft enough for Helly, that the silk would be enough to show her she meant no harm.
She had one just like this waiting in her closet, pink instead of black—she’d picked it out decades before with the intention of giving it to whomever she chose as her companion. It would suit Helly nicely, as if it had been made just for her. In a way, it had been.
Helena kept her eye trained on Helly as her mind roamed. She wondered if her own lips parted that way in sleep, such an uncanny resemblance if her memory was as sharp as she believed. She’d even been careful enough to bite Helly in the same spot she had been, the right sides of both their necks bearing the same wounds.
The punctures would heal eventually, would fade into light purple against pale skin, but they would remain forever visible. Helena hoped that Helly would appreciate her caution and attention to detail. She’d seen so many abhorrent excuses for bites that never healed quite right.
“Helly, darling,” Helena whispered.
This was the fourth time she’d called out quietly to her, impatient as she waited for Helly’s mind to catch up to her body. Her clothing was still morbidly mortal, too contemporary if Helena had anything to say about it. She couldn’t wait to bring her into her closet and allow her to pick out something of her own.
Helena leaned forward when Helly stirred.
“Helly,” she repeated just a little bit louder, coaxing her out. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
Helly did.
Every muscle in Helena’s body tensed in anticipation, the urge to smother her in attention suppressed by the knowledge that Helly would almost certainly be hostile.
She’d been watching her, after all. Helena had learned her quirks, the instinctual tensing of her fist when she felt uncomfortable, the twitch in her brow when faced with anything adverse. The small window to Helly’s old bedroom, the one she’d never gotten around to covering with anything more than the sheer white curtain that came with the shitty first-floor apartment she’d been renting since she'd finished college, had revealed to her Helly’s entire world.
Soon, once Helly adjusted, Helena would fill in the gaps left behind.
“Helly.”
Helly blinked, eyelids uncovering wild and darting eyes that locked onto her mere moments later. Her head snapped aside, face full of fear, and Helena’s heart ached.
“It’s alright,” she tried.
But then Helly stood. So quickly, too quickly, she was on her feet. She clutched her head and winced.
“Slowly, darling,” Helena said, pushing up to her feet.
She was weak, body still assimilating the changes Helena had graced upon her. The way her eyes squeezed told Helena that her head must be spinning, dizzied and disoriented as she awoke somewhere unfamiliar.
Desperate to help, to comfort the precious newborn creature before her, Helena reached out. Slowly, at first, as she rounded the table separating them, but then faster as Helly swayed on her unsteady feet. It was futile, though; as Helly’s bleary eyes squinted open and caught Helena mid-approach, her body snapped to attention. She ran, darted for the door to the living room, ramming into it with a loud crash.
She stumbled and Helena watched, lingering a few feet behind as she banged her hands against the wood, the handle rattling, the sounds echoing as she stepped back and kicked with her boot-clad feet. Dried mud cracked off and scattered across the floor with the force of it, and Helena shook her head amusedly—she was brand new and already making a mess.
Of course she’d chosen a challenge, a handful.
“Helly,” she tried once more.
“Let me the fuck out of here!”
“Sweetheart,” Helena cooed. “Slow down.”
Helly kicked the door again, hands gripped around the handle as she pushed. It was endearing, really, to see her so determined. Helena didn’t have it in her to deny Helly’s curiosity, her thirst for answers.
“The door opens inward,” she offered.
She watched then as Helly stopped, glanced back over her shoulder in question. Then, she watched as Helly pulled the door open with ease.
But she also didn’t have it in her to allow Helly to run head-first into injury without warning. “I wouldn’t try to leave, if I were you.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath,” Helly yelled.
She was in the hall now, barrelling toward what Helena knew was the front door. It wasn’t far. That had been purposeful.
“Since you kidnapped me.”
Abducted would have been a more accurate description.
“Alright,” Helena ceded. She poked her head out into the hall right as Helly stomped up to the heavy front door, her body disappearing into the shadows of the foyer. “Be careful.”
She ducked back inside just to hear Helly screech. The door slammed loudly with Helly still inside, her panting audible even from twenty feet away.
“What the fuck did you do to me?”
Helly had stumbled back into the hallway, superficial burns scattered across her poor face and chest, the fingertips of her left hand where they’d hung out of the long sleeve of her open sweater.
“You poor thing,” Helena cooed softly.
At the sight of Helly scathed, her chest heaved. She exited into the hall, approaching her with deliberate steps. Helly retreated, but Helena was faster—when she took her still-sizzling face between her hands and frowned, Helly squirmed.
“Will you let me clean you up?”
Helly’s face crumpled. “Are you going to kill me?”
The laugh that tipped Helena’s head back in glee was loud, unabashed. “Such a sweet question,” she mused. “I already have.”
Helena smiled at her widely, teeth bared and face blithe, and Helly passed out.
Such a feeble thing, starved and confused, collapsing into Helena’s waiting arms. It wasn’t Helly’s fault that she was so affected, though Helena found it deeply endearing. Tongue clicking in a sort of tickled disappointment, she gathered Helly’s limp body into her arms once more and carried her back to the living room.
Helena ran her tongue along her protruding canines and reveled in the effect they’d had on Helly, no matter how weak she was. She just needed some blood in her, a good feed the solution to her anemia-induced unconsciousness. If she’d only been docile, then maybe Helena could have helped her.
She would learn. Helena would make sure of it.
This time, when she laid Helly on the couch, Helena sat with her. In hopes that it might persuade Helly to wake in a more compliant mood, she guided her head into her lap. Gentle fingers ran along Helly’s rapidly healing forehead, into her hair, down her face, sweet and forgiving despite her disobedience.
Helena had no intention of leading with violence; at least not at first. Of course, that was aside from the fatal bite to Helly’s neck. Collateral, she supposed—it had been the only way, after all.
Helly’s body stirred, fingers clenching and releasing in what appeared to be discomfort. Helena pouted, reaching for them with her spare hand while Helly remained out of it. She picked it up and inspected the damaged skin, tutting as she turned her palm over to find the skin there perfectly healthy. She’d seen worse. This would return completely to normal once she got Helly to drink.
Once she felt the rush of that first feed, she’d understand what Helena had done for her. This was a gift, however daunting. Helena still remembered what it felt like, how her blistering fear had melted into satisfaction as she’d taken her first conscious drink.
She’d had no one to guide her, but Helly would. If everything went according to Helena’s carefully plotted plan, Helly would never want for anything, never fear for too long. Helena would tend to her every need without question so long as she remained faithful.
Not that she’d be given much of a choice otherwise.
She wondered, as she watched Helly’s face pinch, if she remembered suckling from her arm. Would Helly forget nursing from Helena’s own blood the way Helena had forgotten her own turning? In her own case, she was glad to have forgotten, to have lived without the stain of such violation, but for Helly’s sake she hoped she would.
She’d been so kind as she leaned down over Helly’s unconscious body and sliced her own paper-thin skin, so giving when she eased Helly’s mouth open and dripped herself inside. If nothing else, Helena hoped that Helly’s tongue retained her taste.
Would Helly recall her deliverance later when Helena blessed her tongue once again?
Helly inhaled shakily and Helena knew it was time. “Slowly this time, darling,” she urged.
Her sweet eyes eased open, face showing hesitation, reluctance to listen, but she did anyway. She let Helena guide her to sit up, didn’t flinch away too visibly when Helena frowned and tucked her hair behind her ears.
“That feels better, doesn’t it?”
Helena offered a smile, warm and toothless so as not to frighten her again. She’d let her cruelty get away from her before, an unintentional slip after so long without something to care for. Helly would forgive her soon enough.
“Can I offer you a drink, sweetheart?”
After so long glued to Helena’s face, Helly’s gaze darted away, following the slight movement of Helena’s head toward the black table in front of them. There was a decanter there, its large base poised near the edge, full of blood that Helena had drained just for her. It would be warm, still, if a bit on the cool side, but Helly would be too thirsty to notice.
When Helly didn’t answer, clearly entranced by the intricate design of the glass, Helena plucked the jug and a crystal glass from the table. She poured a generous amount into the small vessel, filling it to the brim so Helly would know she wasn’t being deprived.
“Here,” Helena murmured. The decanter landed on the table with a muffled thud before she turned to face Helly completely, her right leg bent onto the cushions as she brought the glass closer with her left hand. “Open up.”
Her right hand fell to the back of Helly’s head, supporting her as she tipped her head back to accept the viscous liquid between her pale lips. She sipped and winced, leftover instinct rejecting the taste as Helena had seen many times before, then moaned as something in her mind rewired.
Somewhere far off, something larger than Helena had ever been and ever would be imploded. Stars aligned, their kismet ricocheting within Helena’s own chest. Her Helly…
She was drinking deeply now, leaning forward with Helena’s guidance, breathing out from her nose as she did to avoid taking breaks. Such a hungry little thing, so prone and willing.
“Easy, now,” Helena whispered. “That’s it.”
Helly’s brow threaded together as she finished the proffered liquid, the crystal at the bottom now visible. Helena pulled it away and watched her lick the remnants from her mouth, then brought her own thumb forth to collect a stray drop before it could reach her chin. Helly didn’t reject her penetrating presence when she pushed it between her reddening lips to allow her to lick it clean.
A line of saliva, thick and stained pink, connected Helena’s thumb to Helly’s parted mouth when she slipped back out. She could see Helly’s white canines poking out, budding and sharpening in her hunger.
“Can I have more?” Helly asked, voice entirely unlike its prior state in its timidity.
As Helly’s cheeks grew pink, her youthful face matching the fragility of her voice, Helena understood why she’d been urged by so many to do this. Only now, in this moment, with the way her chest swelled around a mix of pride and primal instinct, did she get it. Helly was hers now, the sole object of the affection she thought she’d lost long ago.
She hadn’t felt this consumed before, this human in her time undead.
“Yes, darling,” Helena said, wavering, “of course.”
It almost pained Helena to look away from Helly then, as she turned back to grab the decanter from the table once more. She poured carefully, more slowly than she would have liked—the rug underfoot was dark, but that didn’t matter. Helly needed to see her handle the blood with care, ensuring not a drop was wasted.
Helena thought she’d be hungry seeing the rich liquid flow into the dainty glass in her hand given how little she usually allowed herself to eat, but she wasn’t. Though her stomach had settled from the low-level nerves she’d been harbouring now that Helly was docile, she was focused. Helly needed to eat, and she would help her do so. There wasn’t much room for anything else.
Helly reached for the glass when Helena brought it closer, shaking hands held out to receive it, but Helena just shook her head. She chuckled, just slightly, more to herself than in any sort of mockery, when Helly’s hands fell lamely to her lap.
“Let me,” Helena explained. “Just sit still. I’m here to help you.”
The nape of Helly’s neck was warmer now. Helena cradled it to urge Helly to sit up straighter, held her there to keep her from spilling. This time, as Helly drank—much slower, already partially satisfied—she wrapped her lithe fingers around Helena’s wrist. She was gentle, of course, otherwise Helena would have stopped entirely, but there was a weight to her touch. She gripped Helena’s wrist tightly enough to communicate that she needed this, that she understood the gravity of what she was being offered and intended to welcome it with gratitude.
Helena understood her concern, understood the fear that it might go away. Despite this, she hoped that, soon enough, Helly would trust her implicitly, that her benevolence would remain unquestioned and uncontested.
It would come with time.
“There you go, sweetheart,” Helena cooed.
Helly’s eyes had shut, a look of bliss crossing her face as she drained the contents of the glass for a second time. Helena waited for her to release her wrist before she pulled it back from her mouth. She was almost disappointed when she saw Helly’s face clean, when the only stray blood laid just above her top lip and got wiped away by a single swipe of Helly’s tongue.
Helena dragged her hand from the back of Helly’s head and across her jaw to swipe her thumb across her bottom lip, anyway, pushed it between her lips just to feel her suckle on it.
“You feel much better now, don’t you?”
Helly’s eyes widened as she sucked, her tongue pushing against the pad of Helena’s thumb. She nodded and Helena’s chest swelled.
“Good.” She was relieved, glad that things seemed to be going well especially after Helly’s anticipated attempt to escape. “Would you like more?” She asked, withdrawing her thumb.
Helly shook her head politely, but Helena clicked her tongue.
“I expect that you address me with your words, Helly.”
A deep breath pushed Helly’s chest outwards from where she’d slumped into the cushions. “No, thank you.”
“Much better.”
Helena watched her praise soften Helly’s expression, her face settling into something more comfortable. Her colour was already improving, her lips pink and full now, her cheeks less sunken. The burn on her forehead was gone, too. She’d need to feed again soon, body still adjusting to its new biology, and Helena would be there for her then, too. Until she could teach Helly to hunt, until Helly had adapted to her schedule, she would be there, attentive and undivided, for her every want and need.
Gingerly, Helena reached for Helly’s hand—the one that had been scalded by the sunlight of early morning. She picked it up and inspected her fingers, smiling to herself when she saw that, just as her forehead had, they were healed. Not even a scar remained, just smooth skin across her delicate knuckles.
Helena reveled in her creation, the girl before her that was born of her and made for her, in the miracle of her existence and her eternal life.
“You’re so beautiful,” she said then, musing quietly to no one in particular.
“Thank you,” Helly mumbled, blushing pink.
Eyes locked on Helly’s face now, Helena continued: “You look like I used to. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you from the moment I saw you. I’ve been waiting to have you this way.” Her chest fluttered with the romance of it all, of the fatal destiny of their union. “I’ve wanted to feel you for so long. You tasted just like I thought you would.”
Something flashed across Helly’s eyes—fear. Helena recognized it. She resented it.
She gripped Helly’s hand tightly, her brows knitting together as her face crumpled. “Don’t be afraid, my darling Helly,” she urged. “Don’t you see how fateful it is that we’ve finally united? You were meant to be with me, sweetheart. I chose you.”
Helly’s breath rattled as she took it in, body frozen under the weight of Helena’s words. Helena waited, a desperate smile tugging on her lips as she stared at her face, eyes welling with tears she hadn’t known she could still shed.
Then, Helly nodded. “You chose me,” she said slowly.
“I chose you ,” Helena repeated. “Does that scare you?”
Through her tears, Helena saw Helly smile. “No.”
And how joyful that was! Helena pulled Helly into her arms then, wrapping her up in herself as she had done twice already. It was much nicer now that Helly was conscious, now that her body could respond to her touch. Helena allowed a few tears to slip past her waterline, her happiness potent and all-consuming.
She squeezed tightly around Helly’s ribs, holding her as close as she could get without crawling inside her skin. “Thank you,” she murmured. She spoke into Helly’s hair, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the smell of her shampoo. “Thank you.”
Helena couldn’t tell how much time passed this way, with Helly in her lap, them both breathing the same air, but it was long enough that her tears slowed, then dried. Long enough that the exhaustion from her day caught up to her. She’d barely slept the day before, and her night had been so full—between finding Helly, turning her, and bringing her back home, she’d already felt so spent. Then the waiting. It was already midday, and she was bone tired.
She could only imagine how Helly was feeling.
“Why don’t I show you to your room?” Helena asked then, but it wasn’t a question at all. She stood and watched Helly blink a few times. “Come now, darling.”
Helena extended her hand, palm open and facing Helly, waiting for her to accept. She licked her teeth when Helly didn’t take it right away, her foot tapping against the thick rug.
“Helly,” she said firmly. “It’s time for bed.”
When Helly finally offered her hand, it was limp and begrudging. Helena knew she was tired, knew this petulance was that and nothing more. She stifled an instinct to correct it—it would fall on deaf ears, after all.
Helly moved slowly after Helena, arm outstretched as she hung back a few steps. Helena continued further into the house, toward the staircase that laid nestled around the corner on the way through to the library.
The hardwood was covered by carpet runners, all deep burgundy on the even deeper walnut. They muffled the sounds of the stilettos Helena insisted on wearing and the thuds of Helly’s heavy boots. They were second hand, clearly worn to nothing and completely lacking support. Helena would let her choose new shoes from her closet, eventually, when they inevitably left the house together in a few weeks’ time. Until then, she would roam barefoot.
“Watch your step,” Helena said quietly, voice echoing slightly off the high ceiling as she took her first step up onto the staircase.
It mirrored on the other side, meeting in the middle and arching over what used to be a lush sunroom. The plants that used to live there had long died, and when Helena had first taken residence here she’d had it all boarded up. Now it served as a hosting space—leather benches lining the walls, a record player in the corner, red light bulbs secured in the sconces—but Helena never had anyone to host. Not anymore. It had been sitting empty for decades, now.
Perhaps she’d turn it into a second space for Helly instead of allowing it to continue gathering dust.
“Is that you?”
Helly’s voice rang out loudly, interrupting Helena’s interior musing. She turned quickly, hair whipping over her shoulder as she found Helly’s face.
“The painting.”
Helena followed Helly’s gaze left to the portrait hanging above the landing. It was the only piece of personal artwork she had, everything else a collection of others’ pieces she’d gathered over time. None of it meant anything to her past the aesthetic value, but this one…
“Yes,” Helena replied curtly.
She continued up the stairs, but Helly had stalled. “How old is it?”
Helena sniffed. “Old.”
“How old are you?”
“Old.”
“How l—”
“No more,” Helena snapped. Then, softer: “Why don’t we save our questions for later?”
Helly didn’t say anything in return. They proceeded in silence up the second half of the staircase.
Helena didn’t have the heart to admit her age just yet. She wasn’t sure if Helly could handle knowing that she was centuries old and had lived almost all of her years in solitude. Her adjustment wouldn’t be any easier if she knew the grisly details of Helena’s long life, and Helena couldn’t have her assuming that her life would turn out the same.
She had no intention of allowing Helly to suffer the way she once had, and Helena would do anything to prevent her from feeling even an ounce of undue pain. Hopefully she’d forget all about it by the time she woke up.
Down the left-hand hall at the top, third door on the right was Helly’s room. Helena led her over and pushed open the door, then let go of her hand.
“This is your room,” she said, perhaps a bit pathetically. She hung back, watched as Helly stepped across the threshold and looked around, terrified of the reaction it might receive. “We can redecorate, if you need.”
She hadn’t meant to say it, but god she just wanted Helly to like it. She’d spent weeks sifting through dusty old boxes, countless nights poking her head through open windows in search of something just right. The frilly pink room had come together slowly, a picture of innocence and youth that looked just like Helly did. Perhaps it was juvenile, but Helena couldn’t help it.
The silk comforter on the bed was light pink. On top of it Helena had stacked thick pillows and an assortment of stuffed animals she’d found. Bunnies mostly, but a few bears had worked their way into the mix. In the corner, in the reading nook where Helena had stacked edited editions of all her favourite books, a large stuffed doe with big, stitched-on eyes sat in the blanket-laden chair.
She stepped in slowly after Helly and flicked on the overhead light. It was warm, a yellowish bulb she’d chosen from an assortment in hopes of comforting Helly further. It made the glass covering the framed drawings of plants and tinctures—the ones Helena had taken from an apothecary many moons before—glint golden.
The room was small. There was no closet, no bathroom, and only one large window. Helena had chosen it expressly for these purposes. She would keep Helly at arm’s length as she adjusted without granting too much independence. And the window had a locking cover—she’d stashed the key in a drawer in her room before covering the panels with lacy cream curtains.
Despite this, Helena wished so badly that she could allow Helly to sleep with her in her bed. She yearned for the connection, the closeness, but she’d been warned enough. Helly needed to learn her place, needed to understand how she fit into Helena’s life before being granted such liberty. So, she would put up with this for as long as it took for Helly to come around completely.
“Helly?”
She’d been standing in silence a few steps into the room, her back to Helena.
Helly turned, a smile on her face. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but Helena supposed she must be exhausted and overwhelmed.
“Thank you,” Helly said at last. “It’s beautiful.”
Helena smiled in return. “I’m so glad. Eventually you’ll sleep in my room, but please make yourself at home until then.”
Helly nodded, her brow pinching just slightly before relaxing. “Thank you,” she repeated. “Is this when I should say goodnight, then?”
“Not quite,” Helena chuckled. “You can’t sleep on fresh sheets in your dirty clothes.”
The mere suggestion of such an unceremonious parting of ways truly tickled Helena, such an innocent inquiry that kept a twinkling laugh bubbling in her chest long after she’d finished speaking. On the foot of the bed, Helena had folded a nightgown and a pair of panties just for Helly. She pointed to them, then looked at Helly expectantly.
“There are some night clothes for you, darling. I hope they fit, I had to guess.” Helena, of course, knew they would fit. “Let me help you.”
Helly opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it once Helena got close. She was gentle with her long nails, careful not to scratch Helly’s skin as she slipped her fingers into the open front of her sweater and pushed it back off her shoulders. She admired them briefly as she felt blindly for the hem of her shirt, then pulled it up and off her bare torso.
As usual, Helly wasn’t wearing a bra. Foolishly, she tried to cover her chest with her arms, but Helena’s hands were there to stop her.
“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” she assured her. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Helly’s face dropped and Helena just laughed, fingers already working open the button of her jeans. The denim was nice, good enough quality that Helena almost considered keeping it—almost. She shoved it down Helly’s legs and let Helly hold her shoulders as she stepped out of her boots and then the fabric pooling at her feet.
Helly’s body was almost bare now, her frame exposed with nothing left to be interpreted. She was still rounded at the edges, baby fat clinging to her even as she matured. The only thing remaining were her underwear and socks. Helena saw the gooseflesh covering her skin, the way her legs muscles were quivering, and stood. It was merciful and unnecessary, born entirely out of her love for Helly and her refusal to push too far—it would come back in her favour soon enough.
“You can finish, if you’d prefer,” she permitted.
“Thank you,” Helly said. Her voice shook, the sound making Helena’s stomach flip.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Helly.”
Helly was pushing her underwear down, gaze glued to the floor. “It’s okay,” she offered.
“I’m here to help you, you know,” she offered.
Consolation, she hoped, as she tried not to make her staring obvious. The tuft of ginger curls between Helly’s legs was exposed now, and it was much, much prettier up close. Helena had been wanting so badly for so long to feel it—to touch her—but she refrained.
Instead, she cleared her throat. “You’ll understand soon enough, hm?”
Helly’s socks landed a few feet away with almost imperceptible thuds. “Yeah.”
“Good,” Helena said softly. She plucked the pink cotton panties from the bed and held them out to Helly. “You’re doing well, you know.”
Helly was sucking on her cheeks—she released them with a pop when she opened her mouth to respond. “Thank you,” she said. Then, to Helena’s surprise: “You can do it, if you want.”
“I would like that, darling, thank you.”
Helly’s touch wavered much less this time when Helena bent down, her fingers pressed into her shoulders as she balanced on either foot. Helena pulled the fabric up and adjusted it around her hips, smiling to herself when Helly shivered.
“Here,” she said, snagging the long-sleeved nightgown from the bed. “You’ll warm up once you’re dressed.”
Helly held up her arms for Helena to slide the pinkish fabric over her head. The satin slid down, billowing over her until it had all settled into place.
“Perfect fit,” Helena mused. “You look wonderful.”
It was true, not that Helly would ever know. She was adorable this way, dolled up even for bed. Helena wished she’d procured a hairbrush ahead of time, yearning to comb through Helly’s curls and braid her hair down, but it was too late. She could try again after a good night’s sleep.
“Thank you,” Helly said quietly.
“Alright,” Helena said then. “Into bed. I’ll tuck you in.”
Helly furrowed her brow, unmoving. “I’m not a baby.”
“Of course not,” Helena affirmed, miffed this was even a conversation they were having. “I just want to ensure you’re comfortable, darling.”
Helly didn’t move.
“Helly, please,” Helena urged. “Not now. We’re both too tired for this.”
Helly huffed as she turned and climbed up onto the mattress. The duvet covered her a moment later, Helena’s hands smoothing it down as she leaned over her. It was then that Helly began to cry. It came out of nowhere, her bleary and exhausted eyes spilling hot tears down her cheeks. They were large, shiny and round as they stained the pink tucked under her chin, and Helena felt her chest cave in with dread.
“Sweetheart,” she frowned. “What’s the matter?”
Helly sniffed loudly, eyes squeezed shut. Overtired and overwhelmed, Helly had reached a breaking point. In her jubilance, Helena had been foolish enough to assume that Helly might share her joy and elation. The events of the day had all snowballed, growing and growing until it was simply too much to bear.
Such a poor, sweet thing.
“I know you’re tired, darling,” Helena cooed. “Why don’t you take some deep breaths?” As Helly cried, Helena cupped her face and ran her thumb in soothing circles over her cheekbone. She looked miserable and it was tearing Helena up. “Helly, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Please talk to me.”
Another sniff and Helly’s eyes were open. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s just fine, sweetheart,” Helena whispered. “Are you alright?”
Helly’s tears were warm on Helena’s fingers as she brushed them away. She wiped them on the duvet, unconcerned with the salt that might stain the fabric as they dried. Helena would strip away the proof of Helly’s sadness eventually, erase the palpable evidence of her tears to eliminate any doubts in her mind that she belonged.
Once Helly’s cheeks were dry enough, skin still wet and red but without the uncomfortable drip, Helena offered Helly a soft smile.
“I think so,” Helly replied eventually. “Just tired.”
“I know you are,” Helena pouted. “Why don’t you get some rest so we can have a better day tomorrow?”
Helly nodded, and that was that. Helena leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her head before turning away. From the floor, she gathered Helly’s clothing, then she moved out, putting difficult distance between herself and Helly’s bed. The room went dark as she turned out the light and pulled the door closed.
“Goodnight, Helly,” she said, singsongy in the way she vaguely remembered hearing when she was younger.
Then: “Wait—”
Helly’s little voice warbled, still thick. Helena stopped, poked her head back inside. “Yes?” She could just barely see Helly’s face in the dark.
“What do I call you?”
Helena wanted to hit her head into the doorframe—all that and she had forgotten to tell Helly her name. “My name is Helena,” she said. “It’s very nice to meet you, Helly.”
The door creaked as she shut it, then thudded as it latched. Helena pulled a key from the chain around her neck and pushed it into the lock, listened to it as it turned and clicked into place. She let it fall back beneath the folds of her robe, one last safety measure to ensure Helly would sleep well.
She bundled the fabric tighter in her arms as she made her way back down to the living room, careful not to make too much noise on the stairs. The fire roared there in the hearth, waiting as it had been since she’d first brought Helly back. It cracked and popped loudly as she tossed the clothes in, then puffed smoke as they, too, ignited. The last remnants of Helly’s life went up in flames, severing her entirely from what had been before.
Helena retired to her bedroom just across the hall from Helly’s, but not without standing outside her door with her ear pressed to the wood first. She listened for a while, catching the sound of her breath and the light groan of the mattress until she was sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d fallen asleep. Then, with a certainty in her chest that tomorrow would be a better day, she finally allowed herself rest.