Despite her distress, Elissa’s mind works feverishly. In the last ten minutes, everything she believed about this place has been overturned. It’s imperative she doesn’t tune out.
Soft fingers touch her jaw, encouraging her to lift her chin. Carefully, the cloth scours away grime. Afterwards, a brush is tugged through her hair. The woman is as gentle as before, easing off every time she finds a knot, styling it in a way that feels alien.
Belatedly, Elissa realizes it’s an attempt to conceal the injuries inflicted by the ghoul when he last visited. Her work complete, the silhouetted woman steps away.
The studio light shines on Elissa’s face, drying the last traces of moisture. Leaning against the tripod is the whiteboard from the ghoul’s previous visit. On it she sees the same words.
The red light winks on.
‘You look into the camera,’ he whispers from the darkness behind the light. ‘You read the words. Say you understand.’
VII
In the hours since their last encounter Elissa has tried to forget the message printed on that board. Now, she can’t help but confront it. ‘I understand.’
She clears her throat, lifts her head. ‘My name is Elissa Mirzoyan. Today is the twenty-fourth of October.’ Her chin begins to tremble. ‘I have not been harmed. I do not wish … I do not wish …’
The words on the whiteboard swim out of focus.
‘Wipe your eyes,’ the ghoul whispers. ‘Start again.’
Elissa brushes away her tears. ‘Why’re you doing this?’
‘Look into the camera. Read the words.’
She clenches her jaw. ‘My name is Elissa Mirzoyan.’ This time, in her voice, there’s the merest hint of defiance. If she’s forced to say these words, she wants the world to see she doesn’t believe them. ‘Today is the twenty-fourth of October. I do not wish to be found. I do not wish anyone to look for me. Since finding sanctuary, I’ve come to realize’ – now she speaks through gritted teeth – ‘that Lena Mirzoyan is not the good mother I thought.’
The red light observes her a moment longer.
Then it dies.
Elissa swallows. No one who sees the tape will believe she meant those words, but that won’t diminish their power to cause hurt.
She can’t see the ghoul behind the recording equipment, but she knows he’s there. Is the woman at his side?
Lena Mirzoyan is not the good mother I thought.
Staring straight ahead despite the studio light’s glare, she says, ‘Why? Why’re you doing this? What have I done to—?’
‘This is not to punish you,’ the ghoul whispers.
‘Then who—?’
‘You said it yourself. Lena Mirzoyan is not the good mother you thought. And who would know better than her daughter? Who would know better than you?’
‘You know I don’t believe that. Nor will anyone else.’
‘People believe what they’re told.’
‘Not that.’
She has no idea where this shot of bravery comes from, but for the first time she’s successfully engaging him. Despite the danger, she knows she mustn’t stop. ‘This is wrong. You have to let me go.’
‘If I returned you to an unfit mother, what would that make me?’
‘Why do you think she’s unfit?’
‘If you follow the rules, you’ll suffer no harm.’
‘Why? That’s what I don’t understand! What kind of freak—?’
The word slips off her tongue before she can call it back. It floats in the silence, and she knows, just by listening, that she’s badly mis-stepped.
‘Whoever one is, and wherever one is,’ the ghoul whispers, ‘one is always in the wrong if one is rude.’ He waits a while, then adds: ‘Maurice Baring wrote that. He was an English dramatist, and a great man of letters.’
Unable to trust her mouth, Elissa presses her lips together.
‘I want this to work,’ the ghoul tells her. ‘We all want this to work. Personally, I think you’re a little too headstrong, which means your chances aren’t great. But perhaps you’ll surprise us yet.’
The studio light winks out. Darkness rushes in. There’s a rasp of something metal being unscrewed. A rich scent hits Elissa’s nose: Peppa Pig spaghetti.
Her stomach churns.
‘You follow the rules,’ the ghoul whispers, ‘you eat. You break the rules, you’re no more. Say you understand.’
She drags out the seconds as long as she dares. ‘I understand.’
‘You forget your previous life because this is your life. If you cooperate, things will change. Six months from now, if we get that far, you’ll understand why this was necessary. Another year, you’ll be thanking us.’ He removes the camcorder from its mount. ‘We’re going to do more of this, you and I. Keep cooperating and you’ll get all sorts of nice things. In the meantime, I want you to think about all the ways your mother has let you down. Every little spite, every dereliction, every selfish act.’
Elissa opens her mouth, but the ghoul’s characterization of Lena Mirzoyan is so baseless she’s rendered mute. She breathes cucumber-scented cleanser, Peppa Pig spaghetti, home-crafted apple-and-cinnamon perfume. If there’s any logic to this, she can’t find it.
Personally, I think you’re a little too headstrong, which means your chances aren’t great.
He’s right about that. She won’t be brainwashed; not by him, not by anyone. Which means time, for her, is almost certainly running out.
Vital she doesn’t squander what’s left.
Elijah
Day 5
I
I was going to leave it until tomorrow to show her what I’ve done, but I’m so excited I can’t wait.
All through dinner I sat on my secret. Watching me, Kyle soon suspected something was up. Usually, I’m pretty quiet at the table, but tonight I talked like a flibbertigibbet while Mama and Papa looked on, bemused. Eventually, Papa put down his cutlery and asked if I was OK. That’s when I knew I was in trouble, and that if I talked any longer my mouth would run away completely.
I haven’t committed a crime. Not exactly. But that doesn’t mean what I’m doing is OK.
After dinner, Papa goes outside for a roll-up. Mama sits in the living room with her sewing while I wash the dishes. Standing at the sink, I look through the window at Papa chugging his smoke into the night.
When I open the pantry door to fetch a tea towel, Kyle – appearing from nowhere – bundles me through it.
Inside, there’s no light, just unpainted wooden shelves filled with tinned goods. My brother talks so quietly not even Mama will hear. I could cry out, but his knife is pressed to my belly. His other hand grips my throat, forcing back my head.
‘You’re up to something, shithead,’ he hisses. His breath is awful, like he’s been chewing on roadkill. ‘You’re tryin’ to fuck us, and I ain’t gunna let it happen.’
My shirt has ridden up. The point of Kyle’s blade presses deeper. When I feel a slow spread of warmth, I think he must have punctured me, until I realize that fear has made me squirt out some pee.