Dollenganger 06 My Sweet Audrina (34 page)

Several times she used her thumb and forefinger to spread my lids and peer into my eyes. "Did I just see you move? Audrina, I could swear I saw you move. You winced, too, when I pulled your hair. Are you only pretending to still be in your coma? Well, I don't give a damn. Keep the game up and pretend long enough and in your grave you'll find yourself. Already you've pretended too long, Audrina. You're so weak now you can't do a thing to help yourself. Too weak to walk, too weak to talk, and Papa and Arden have gone away on a daylong conference in Richmond. They won't be home until late. Soon I'll be rushing off to the beauty parlor in Arden's car, and our new maid named Nola will be instructed to look out for you."

Every sense I had quickened, became sharper. My survival instincts came alive as I quivered with apprehension, wondering how she planned to kill me and what I could do to save myself.
Seconds later Vera used my dressing room to apply my makeup to her face. I caught the whiff of my own French perfume, smelled my own dusting powder. Then I heard her fumbling around in my closet. Finding what she wanted, she came into view wearing my best summer suit.
"It's August, Audrina. August in Paris, what a honeymoon that's going to be. Before this month is over Arden Lowe will belong to me. . . and he's got enough evidence on Papa to have him locked away in jail. He doesn't want to use it, for dear Papa has reformed and no longer cheats and embezzles. Your noble Arden made him quit. I don't really want Papa in jail anyway. I want him where I can put my hands on him and make him pay, and pay, and pay. And when I have all his money, into an old folks home goes dear Papa, and dear little Sylvia will get her just rewards, too. I think it's very romantic for you to die in the summer. On your grave we can lay all the roses you love. Remember that first box of Valentine candy Arden sent you? And I ate every piece? I hated you for attracting him even then, when I was more his age. You've been unconscious three months. . . do you know that? I pray you
can
hear. According to your husband, you and he finally 'found each other' just before your fall down the stairs. Really, Audrina, you do know all the right ways to mess up your life. Too many people fall in this house. Someone should have Sylvia locked up before somebody else takes a tumble. You shielded a killer, Audrina. But you won't have to worry about anything after today. I'm driving to the village, making a big show of myself. While I'm gone. . . the job will be done. come home to find you dead?' She laughed and then turned to look hard at Sylvia.
The clickity-clack of her high heels on the floor sounded ominous as she went out the door.
I was alone now, except for Sylvia.
I tried to speak, to call, and though I made some gurgling, throaty noises, nothing coherent came out.
Sylvia,
I willed,
come to me. Do something to help me. Don't let me be here when Vera comes back Please, Sylvia, please. . .
In her corner Sylvia played with several prisms, using them to send separate light rays that crossed. Looking up every once in a while, she vacantly stared my way. I had to find my voice. Desperate need gave me the strength to speak. "Sylvia . . help me . ." It came out as little more than a moan, but Sylvia heard and understood.
Sluggishly she rose to her feet. Excruciatingly slowly she wandered not to my bed but to the dressing table, which was not reflected in the mirror over the dresser. But I could hear her fiddling around with the pretty jars and bottles. She squished the perfume atomizer, wafting to me the scent of
jasmine.
Sylvia,
I moaned again.
Help me, Take me away. Hide me. Please, please. . Sylvia . . . help Audrina.
Something had her attention. Now I could see her reflection in the dresser mirror. She was looking my way. Startled, almost scared appearing. Inch by slow inch she ambled toward my bed. In her hand she carried my silver hand mirror, and from time to time she glanced at her own reflection, as if fascinated by the pretty girl in the glass--and no wonder. When she held her head high and threw back that tangled mop of hair, she was breathtakingly lovely.
I found my voice again, weak and trembling. "Billie's cart, Sylvia . . . the little red cart--find that cart. Put me on it."
Slowly, slowly, she came to gaze with unfocused eyes into my face. Then she looked in the hand mirror. I could tell what she must be seeing. She looked more like me now than I must look like myself.
"Please. . . Sylvia . . help me," I whispered.
The door opened. My heart almost stopped beating. Vera was back so quickly. What had gone wrong? Then I saw her reason for coming back. She held a plastic bag full of cookies. The very kind of cookies that Sylvia had such a passion for.
"Look, Sylvia," charmed Vera in her sweetest voice. "Pretty Sylvia hasn't had a treat like this in years and years, has she? Mean Audrina won't let you eat cookies, but nice Vera will. Come, pretty Sylvia, eat your cookies like a good girl and I'll bring you more tomorrow. See where your half-sister puts your cookies . . . under the bed."
What was she up to?
In another few moments Vera was on her feet, picking up her purse, which was really my purse, and, softly chuckling to herself, she headed once more for the door.
"Goodbye, Audrina, goodbye. When you get to heaven say hello to your mother for me. If my mother is there, ignore her. Dying won't hurt much. Your food supply will stop, that's all. The machine functioning for your kidneys will shut off. . . it won't hurt. Maybe when the respirator stops you'll just stop breathing . . . it's hard to tell, but you can't last long. All that grieving for Billie helped run down your health long before your fall. And did you know I contributed a little drug to your tea? Just a little to keep you in a constant apathetic state . ."
Bang! She slammed the door.
No sooner had she closed the door than Sylvia was on her knees and under the bed. When next I saw her she was munching on a handful of cookies--and in her free hand was the single plug that connected all my machines to the outlet. Good God! Vera must have fastened the cookies to the plug with the picture wire I saw dangling from Sylvia's hand. Sylvia plucked the wire from the cookies, threw it down, then stuffed her mouth again. I felt strange, really strange. Sylvia was growing fuzzy, fuzzier.
I was dying!
Do you want me to die, Sylvia?
Desperate now, I concentrated every last bit of will power I had on controlling her. Determined to live, I fought the drowsiness that tried to take me down, down.
As if consolidating her strength, trying to focus her eyes and keep them that way, my younger sister touched the tear that slipped from my right eye. "Aud . . . dreeen
She loved me. The bread cast upon the waters of Sylvia was coming back a thousandfold. "Oh, Sylvia, quickly." Vera could come home sooner than I think. And Sylvia was so slow. . .
Excruciatingly slow. It seemed like hours passed before Sylvia came back with Billie's little red cart that had splintered badly when it had clattered down the front gtaies. " . . . . . ad Vera . . ." mumbled Sylvia, tugging on my arm and trying to lift me off the bed. "Baa . . ad Vera. . ."
Panting, gasping, I managed to make a small sound that sounded like, "Yes," and then I willed Sylvia to try to pick me up. Certainly I couldn't weigh much. But her strength was so minimal that she couldn't manage to do more than tug and pull on one arm and one leg. She succeeded in pulling me off the bed so that I landed on the thick piling of the soft carpet. The jolt sent rippling waves of shock throughout my body. Ripples that reached every nerve ending.
"And . . . dreeen . . na ."
"Yes, Audrina wants you . take her away . . . Down the hall to a safe place."
I was difficult for her to manage. When she had my buttocks on the cart, my head and upper body were off, and my legs dragged. Sylvia studied me with a puzzled look. Then she leaned to shove up my knees, and since that seemed to work, she gave a grunt of pride and with struggling efforts pushed me into an upright position. But when she let go, I fell sideways. Again she shoved me back on the cart, then looked around.
I slumped over on my pulled-up knees and tried to latch my fingers together to keep my legs in position. My head lolled heavily, jerkily, when I wanted to lift it. Every small movement I made was so difficult, so painful that I wanted to scream with the agony of doing what used to come so easily. Desperation made me frantic, yet it lent me an unexpected spurt of strength. I managed to lock my arms together with my fingers in such a way that I kept my legs from straightening out. I was like a crudely wrapped package. Wringing wet with perspiration, I waited for Sylvia to begin pushing me out of the room.
"Syl vee ah, Aud dreen na," she happily murmured as she got down on her hands and knees and began to shove. Fortunately she'd left the door open when she came back with the cart. Talking all the time in her mumbling way about me being her baby now, she mentioned again that Vera was baaa . . . ad.
The grandfather clocks in the lower hall began to chime in all their myriad voices. The clocks on the mantles joined in, the clocks on the tables, dressers and desks tolled the hour of three. Someone had finally synchronized all our clocks.
The thick carpeting down the halls, meant to soundproof and give privacy, made it very difficult for Sylvia to shove me along. The little wheels dug deeply into the pile and resisted. No wonder Billie had asked Papa to have the carpet taken up when she used the corridors. But now it was back to hinder my escape. Where could Sylvia put me?
Tediously Sylvia shoved, panting and heaving and talking gibberish. She stopped to rest often, to take her prisms from the huge pockets of her loose, shiftlike garment.
"And dreeen na. Sweet Aud . . . dreen na."
Weakly I turned my head. I moved spastically. I managed to look- over my shoulder to see Sylvia's rapt expression of pleasure. She was helping me, and happy to be of use. Her eyes were glowing with joy. To see her like that flooded me with strength enough to manage a few more halting words. "You . . said . . . my name . . just . . . right."
"Aud . . . dreeen . . . na." She beamed at me and wanted to stop and play, or talk.
"Hide me . . ." I managed to whisper before I half fainted.
Everything began to move in on me then. The walls came closer, then receded. Bric-a-brac on the hall tables moved, figurines loomed up hugely. The swirling patterns on the rug snaked around me, trying to choke me as I fought off the blackness that wanted to claim me again. I had to stay awake and in control or I would fall off the cart. Hours and hours of Sylvia crawling behind and pushing. Where was she taking me?
Suddenly the front stairs were just ahead. N000! I wanted to yell, but I was mute with terror. Sylvia was going to shove me down the stairs!
"Aud . . dreeen . . . ah," she said. "Sweeeet Aud . . dreen . . ah."
Gently and slowly, the cart curved away from the stairs and headed toward the western wing where the First Audrina's room was.
In and out of consciousness I flitted, feeling pains stabbing from time to time. I began to silently pray. Downstairs I heard the front door slam.
Speeding up just a fraction, Sylvia made the turn into the playroom.
No, no, no, was all I could think as Sylvia shoved me into the room where all my nightmares had begun. The high bed loomed ahead. Straight under it Sylvia pushed me as I released my hold on my pulledup knees and fell backward to avoid being knocked out, and just in the nick of time, too. The oldfashioned coil springs, coated with years of layered dust, met my stare. Sylvia peeked under the dust ruffle and then let it drop.
Sylvia's slow steps faded away. I was alone under the bed with the dust--and a huge spider was spinning a dainty web from one coil to another. It had eyes as black as Vera's. Seeming aware of my presence, it paused in its chore, looked me over, then went on to complete its half-finished design.
Closing my eyes, I gave in to whatever fate had in store. I tried to relax and not worry about Sylvia, who might forget where she'd hidden me. Who would ever think to look for me under the bed in this room no one used anymore?
Then I heard Vera screaming. "Sylvia! Where is Audrina? Where is she?" There was a crash, as if something had fallen, then another cry, closer this time. "I'll catch you, Sylvia, and when I do you'll regret throwing that vase at me! You idiot, what have you done with her? When I catch you I'm going to rip the hair from your scalp!" I heard doors opening and closing as the race to catch Sylvia went on. I didn't even know Sylvia could run. Or was it Vera running as fast as she could to check every room before Arden and Papa came home?
She was searching in such a hurry that it didn't seem she could be doing a thorough job. There were so many rooms, so many closets and antechambers. Then I heard her enter the playroom.
The dust ruffle cleared the rug about half an inch. Painfully, I turned my head, unable to resist, and I saw her navy blue shoes come closer. One had a very thick sole. She was approaching the bed.
The rocking chair began to make those familiar squeaking noises. "Get out of that chair!" snapped Vera, forgetting to look under the bed as she hurried to haul Sylvia away. Vera yelled as Sylvia scampered out of the room. She started to give limping chase.
Just barely I could see her shoes receding. I think I fainted then. I don't know how long it was before I heard footfalls, and once more Sylvia was peeking under the dust ruffle.
Again Sylvia was tugging on my arm. I tried to help, but this time I was in too much agony. Still, somehow she managed, and later I came back into fading daylight to find myself seated in the calla-lily rocking chair. Sylvia lifted each of my arms so I could grip the chair arms. I screamed. I didn't want to die! Not here, in
her
chair!
Sylvia closed the door behind her.
I began to rock. Had to rock now to escape the pain and horror of what was happening.
Easily my full pitcher of woes emptied to hold more. I had no resistance to protest anything that happened. I saw again Vera as she'd been in her early teens, and she was teasing me about not knowing what men and women did to make babies--but you'll find out one day soon, she whispered.
The rainy day in the woods came again. The boys chased and caught me as always in visions I was the First Audrina, and she made me suffer her shame. It was Arden this time who ripped off my clothes that were her clothes, and Arden who fell on her who was me, and was the first to ravish. I screamed, then screamed again, over and over.
"Audrina," came my father's voice from a far, far distance, just when I'd called for him. This time not God, but Papa heard my cries . . . and in the nick of time.
"Oh, dear God in heaven, my sweet Audrina has pulled out of her coma! She's screaming! She's going to recover!"
Feeling like they weighed tons, my lids parted enough for me to see Papa running to me. A few steps behind him was Arden. But I didn't want to see Arden.
"My darling, my darling," sobbed Papa as he took me into his strong arms and held me. "Arden, call an ambulance."