Locked Away

Trigger Warning: Contains hints at thoughts of suicide. Story is about the grief following loss of a child (though the child’s death itself is not detailed).

     Shadows danced along the corridor as Lucia clasped the lantern. Her gut tightened and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A fine layer of frost covered the first door. Slowly, she opened it and stepped over the threshold. 

     A vice made its way around Lucia’s heart as she took in the room. It was a replica of the nursery. She ran her hand along the railing of the crib and watched snowflakes melt along the wake of her fingertips. A single tear slid down her cheek as she picked up the soft blanket and held it close to her face. She hoped to catch Lorcan’s scent but, as in reality, it had faded. 

     The stale air was numbing and Lucia held the lantern closer for any bit of warmth she could harness. Waves of sadness washed over her as she took in the remainder of the room. Once a bright room for a baby boy, the room was muted and crumbling. She found no answers for her dear Callan’s whereabouts there, for the room mirrored her own mind. 

     Back in the corridor, fog poured from under the second door. As Lucia opened the battered door, the scent of whiskey and body odor assaulted her. The study was dimly lit with black candles. Tilting her head, she could hear the inaudible echoes of her husband’s frenzied murmurs. 

     She sat the lantern on the desk and carefully scanned the room. Books were strewn about with pages ripped out, Callan’s favorite grandfather clock laid overturned, and half-empty empty whiskey bottles lined the back bar. As Lucia glanced above the bar, she noticed the attic door slightly ajar. 

     She climbed atop the bar and stood on her toes as she opened the door and pulled down the ladder. On the way up, a rat scurried down the latter and Lucia almost slipped. Heart pounding, she made her way to the top. Immediately, Lucia saw the noose in the glint of moonlight that brushed the room in pale blue. The crude rope swung from a rafter above a single milk crate. 

     “Oh, my Callan, let me help you,” she pleaded into the silence. 

     Peering through blurred eyes, her gaze fell upon the shelves where they had stored the framed photos that included Lorcan. She gently picked up the photograph of the family the day he was born. Lucia looked tired, but happy as she held her bundle of joy in her arms. Callan was leaning over the side of the bed looking at his son with awe and wonder. 

     “You will cherish this moment forever,” the midwife had crooned. 

     Lucia let herself retreat to that lovely memory as she idly traced the intricate ivory frame. Her eyes regained focus and were drawn back to the photo when a  sharp crack cut into her thoughts. Crawling outward, the crack spread across the glass until shattering completely. 

     She gasped and shielded her face with her arm when glass exploded from the remaining frames, peppering her body with small cuts. She lowered her arm and cautiously stepped backward toward the exit. At once, the exposed photos lit afire, filling the room with smoke. 

     Lucia scrambled to get out of the attic and promptly sealed it shut as soon as her feet hit solid surface. Breathing rapidly, she turned to exit the study only to slip and fall, barely catching herself from landing face-first. She pushed herself off wet tiles, groaning and silently cursing the whole way. 

     No longer the study, the room was their quaint kitchen. The cabinets and floor were painted with blood. Lucia swallowed the bile rising in the back of her throat as she took in the scene. Smashed china littered the counters. Fist-sized holes adorned the walls. Chairs had their backs broken off. A forgotten tea kettle shrieked loudly on the glowing wood stove. 

     Palms sweating, Lucia searched for any active sign of Callan. After coming up empty-handed, she rummaged through a drawer and pulled out the match box and a lone candle. She lit it and stepped past the door that hung on its hinges to the corridor. 

     There was one door left at the end of the hall. The black paint was peeling off and this was not one that belonged to their house. She made to turn the knob but found it to be locked. She pulled a pin from her hair and worked on the keyhole. It may have been minutes or hours before she finally heard the click of the lock disengaging. 

    She put the candle forth into absolute darkness and found herself at the top of a winding stone staircase. When she placed her hand on the wall for support, she immediately pulled it back with a start. The flickering candlelight revealed walls made of skulls- human and animal alike. 

      Step by step, she descended the stairs until she reached the bottom and found herself in a network of dreary caves. Millipedes climbed the damp walls. All was quiet aside from the occasional drop of water falling from the ceiling. 

     “Callan,” Lucia whispered into the darkness. 

     She knew that if she was to reach Callan, it would be here in the darkest recesses of his mind. He had locked himself away weeks ago. Mind-walking was the only hope Lucia had to get him back. 

     Decades ago, when she was just a child, her mother warned her against the dangers of her ability and helped her learn to control it. To become lost inside someone else’s mind meant never returning to reality. The only other of her kind had succumbed to his ability and went mad until he reached a slow, agonizing death. 

     Lucia trembled with fear at the thought of losing herself in her husband’s mind, but she knew that she would travel to the underworld itself to get him back if she had to. Life without Callan was unfathomable. Her heart bled for him as it always had. To lose him was to lose the essence of life itself. 

     “Callan!” she called out hoarsely. 

     She heard a faint groan coming from the distance. As she picked up her pace, she padded softly along through the cave to ensure she didn’t miss a single sound. Gradually, the groans grew louder until she found herself at the entrance of an alcove. 

     Callan sat on the ground with his head tilted back against the wall. His eyes were closed. His clothes tattered and torn, he was shivering. His lips were cracked and peeling. He was shrouded in shadows.  Lucia gently shook his shoulder, bony from loss of weight. 

     “Love, we have to go,” she said. 

     “Why are you here, Lucia?” he croaked. 

     “Because sometimes we can’t save ourselves, Callan.” she quipped. 

     “I don’t need saving,” he said as his eyelids fluttered open. 

     Lucia knew why Callan had never sought help. She could see the shame in his eyes. She could see the depths of his despair and hopelessness. However, amidst the chaos, she could still see the love that he held for her. 

     “Remember when we wed and made our vows under the crescent moon?” she asked. 

     Callan looked up at her and was quiet for a long moment until he finally said, “We vowed to always be each other’s light on our longest nights.”

     “That we did,” Lucia whispered. 

     “I am sorry, my light,” Callan said as he cupped her face. “I have let you down. I can no longer be your light for I have not even a spark left.”

     Lucia allowed herself a moment to gaze upon the face of the man that she adored before her eyes shone with determination. 

     “You must get up,” she stated firmly. “I would stay with you here forever if I had to as we know that I can never make it out alone. However, I will not let you remain a shell of yourself.”

    “But how could you want the monster that I have become?”  he questioned.

     “I have seen your sadness, your guilt, your anger, and your despair,” she listed. “I know that you are lost in your grief. But I know, my love, that your love is boundless and you will find the light again. For now, I have enough light for the both of us.”

     Lucia interlaced her fingers with Callan’s and gave him a light tug. Finally, he began to rise. Together, they made their way through the cavern and back into the corridor. Side by side, they walked the length of the corridor to the entrance- a canary yellow door. 

     Callan let loose a shuddering breath and opened the door. Greeted with sunlight, warm breezes, and songbirds, Lucia beamed as she looked into his eyes. For it was there that she saw hope.