Chapter Text
My mother was always honest with me growing up.
Perhaps overtly so, considering my age at certain points. She'd treat me more like a confidant than her young daughter, of whom she should shield these intimate musings from, yet my maturity never stopped her. I regret it now, but I’d usually only end up internalizing the stories of her as a young woman. From the part-time jobs she'd taken to the way she’d do her hair. Even the things she and her friends would talk about, as well as the numerous boyfriends she’d had before Father. I smile at a memory of that last one; she’d always complain about which one she should’ve married instead.
I’d grown used to it, maybe even numbed to it. Her melodrama contrasted with the cold shoulder Father always gave me, so in the end, I suppose it evened out over time. In a way, she led me into that complacency. I felt a cynicism brewing within me when her silly anecdotes slowly became more foreboding, her words lined with worry and warning, telling me about how things would be stacked against me as I grew into myself.
Though now that I’m older, and I’ve put some time and distance between myself and Máma, I realize that she never had anyone else to talk to about these things in our shared isolation. I was the only one, and I didn’t understand then what it would’ve meant to my Mother if I were actually emotionally available to her. Now I never will.
That woman was always honest with me… brutality so, even with the hardest truths that I had a hard time conceptualizing as a child. Honestly, I still can’t define it. It might be worse that even in this moment, her words still ring in my ears.
’Close your heart to these things, you’re better off this way and he knows it.’
Shit, she’d probably laugh at me if she saw me right now. Alone in the dead of night, reminiscing about my depressing childhood for the first time in years on some dusty platform in Bremen, whilst I wait for a train. I don’t know what’s more ridiculous, the fact that this is what my life has coalesced to, or where the trajectory of my life thus far has slung me into.
I glance down at the train ticket that I’d been messaging my thumb over for the last half-hour. I’ve never felt such resentment towards a piece of paper. The pathetic little stub was slightly crumpled around the edges from where I’d been gripping it. It looked like it’s started to develop sweat-stains too. Munich to Prehevil, a straight shot… this is just absurd.
The clerk I’d bought it from didn’t seem too thrilled to see me either. I must’ve just caught her nodding off, given the ungodly hour. The ‘conversation’ was propped up with broken Rondonian and the three word of Bremen that I’d memorized prior to this trip. It was just a transaction in a part of a country I’ll most likely never visit again, though the uncomfortable nature of it all still made me wince. Besides, I’m only here for a while longer… this was just an intermediate stop.
I’ve been out of sorts since I’d first departed for Prehevil, that Gods forbidden city. I suppose I could easily attribute this madness to the fact that returning there is the last thing I’d want to be doing, especially given the circumstances, but I know that it’s more than that. I haven’t been getting any rest, even before the news. I’ve been sleeping so strange at night, odd dreams and visions of these horrifying things that I-I…
My fingers tighten around the leather handle of my suitcase as I reimagine it all, the macabre ruminations like a dark cloud around my head. My wide eyes begin to sting as I fight to hold them open.
I just hope that what waits for me in Prehevil isn’t as bad as what Father would have intended for me once he realizes I went against her wishes.
But is this what Máma would’ve wanted? For me to just lay to waste, and mourn her from countries away?
I hear the train roaring down the tracks before I see it, accompanied closely by that wailing whistle tearing through the once blistering silence. It’s about time, but I swear it’d startle me if I weren’t so excited to see the damn thing. I want to keep moving, to forget for a moment and watch the landscape change through a window.
The brakes slowly screech to a halt, and I swear, a train has never been so tantalizingly slow to stop before. I can feel myself vibrating in my shoes in anticipation of the call, though I do feel an inkling of shame at being the only person on this particular platform so late at night, or early in the morning?
I hop onto the train without hesitation and find a suitable seat, opting to drag my suitcase along instead of bothering with the luggage car. It turns out that there were already a few other passengers on the train, but I don’t pay much mind to them; there's still a stop or two before we’re clear of Bremen.
I sink into my seat after all but shoving my luggage under the seat, all with an unflattering frump that I’d surely be embarrassed about if I wasn’t so conveniently isolated. The seats below me were nicely cushioned and almost alarmingly comfortable. If I weren’t so fucking paranoid from the constant night terrors, my exhaustion might’ve just caught up with me in this moment. I guess it’s for the best. I need to be awake for when the clerk comes to check my ticket.
My eyes dart to the window next to me as I internally rejoice at not needing to share my seat; a benefit of traveling so early. The train hasn’t begun to move yet, so my eyes line up with the pillars of the massive train station. It makes me wonder how strange it is that there are still trains operating at this time at all, especially ones crossing borders. I don’t travel much, but it seems a bit odd that a country like Bremen, that’s struggling enough with the war as it is, would expend its resources on needless transit, especially when no one's really utilizing it. The Munich train station is huge; it must get pretty expensive to keep it open at all hours like this.
The train blares it’s whistle through the station, signaling its impending departure. The train attendant finally comes around to me to check my ticket, just as the massive machine began to lethargically chug down its tracks. A sigh escapes me as I’m finally able to see the open air, once I turn back to the window. I suppose a part of me felt that I’d be stuck in this station forever.
I can feel the tension in my body slowly work itself out, as I nestle into the seat. My head leans back against the headrest, and the combination of the gentle vibration and the soothing sound of the wheels against the rail tracks further encourages my body to relax. Shit, I might be able to catch some rest before reaching Prehevil after all.
My eyes flutter closed, but I’m hesitant to let myself drift off completely. A nightmare is the last thing I’d want whilst I’m in an unfamiliar space, especially given that there’s nowhere I could excuse myself to. Though the longer I sit here with my eyes shut, the heavier they being to feel on my face.
Gods, I haven’t slept in at least forty eight hours. Even my professors had began to ask about me, well that was before-
My arm moves slightly, and I feel that thick envelope paper pinch against my skin from under my shirt. My eyes open, the lull of comfort tarnished by the distinctly sour reality of my situation. My hand goes to pull the letter out my bra, and looking at it in my hands again… it still fucking hurts.
My fingers uselessly pinch at the tattered folds of the envelope paper above the Prehevilian postmark, hesitating to reach for the nice parchment inside. The artificial light above me drenches the white paper in a deeply saturated, sickly yellow.
I should throw it out, so I don’t have to keep torturing myself with it… I don’t understand why I insist on keeping it around. I’ve read through this letter countless times; I already know its contents, yet there's still a large part of me that feels like there's something more to it that I haven’t caught onto yet. Like there’s something in between the lines that I could shove in Father’s face, once I’m finally before him.
I suppose I should’ve tried to understand Father better before leaving for the Vatican. Maybe I could’ve worked harder to understand the types of blood magic he was interested in before leaving him alone with Máma. Shit, I shouldn’t have been so quick to leave in the first place. It’s too fucking easy to fit myself into all of these scenarios of how I could’ve done better, now that it’s too late.
I could be wrong; in fact, I hope I am. I could easily be making sweeping assumptions about the true nature of this. But I know what that man is like behind closed doors, when the only Father he had to be was my own. And it’s the Father that he was to me that strikes so much fear in me.
I rip the parchment letter out of it’s sleeve and began to scan over the words for the umteenth time since receiving it. The flowery letterhead of that terrible church alone makes me sick.
Marina,
As the Head Priest of the Church, as well as your Father, it is my responsibility to inform you that, unfortunately, your Mother has passed due to unforeseen circumstances.
No further action is necessary on your part, as we will be forgoing a conventional funeral service. There is no need for one at this time.
She left no will, so there is nothing for you to come collect. Do not come to Prehevil expecting something in exchange for your Mother’s death.
All that is left for you is to move on with your studies.
My condolences, Father E. Domek.
The letter is too short... far too short to permit me any leverage, or-or time to process! Gods, I can hear that dour tone of his through the business-like verbiage. He couldn’t phone me, he couldn’t travel down to my school, he couldn’t even provide flowers or comforting words. But he’d certainly send a half-assed letter, devoid of any emotion or sympathy for his grieving daughter… oh right, but I’m no daughter to him. Just his cross-dressing son that narrowly avoided the burden of carrying on a legacy, that’d have no one else to proceed it. I’ve been his little punching bag about that for a long time.
Defeated, my arms drop to my lap with my fingers still clutched around the papers. I look out the window, hoping to find something out there that’d take my mind off of things. I watch how the sun started to peek above the horizon, between a few isolated towns, casting the entire landscape in a deep orangey blue. I don’t get to watch the sunrise often, as my classes usually take place a bit later in the day, so it’s a nice change. I could’ve gone without the blanket of fog beginning to cloud the view, though.
With a huff, I stuff the letter back into my bra and try to ignore the two contrasting parts of me that want to rip the damned thing to shreds, and keep it somewhere safe all the same. With my eyes glued to the glass, I try to find that relaxing center again. Maybe I should’ve chanced it with some sleep when I felt compelled to earlier, I’m starting to grow restless. Shit, now my leg is starting to bounce.
I try to focus on the moving landscape next to me, still hoping that it’d serve as a suitable distraction. Though the way that strange fog grew thicker and thicker as the sun rose higher arose an odd feeling. It must be the paranoia, as I can’t really see how some fog is going to make my time in Prehevil any more miserable than it’ll already be. Hell, the lowered visibility felt almost like karmic retribution.
I smile to myself at the thought. I’d kill to see the day when Prehevil gets its day of reckoning; hang up some of the dirty laundry and blood money. It’d be the Gods doing me a mercy by completing all the hard work for me. I could be free of that wretched history, and focus on my own drama.
It’s strange now that I’m really thinking about it. I was sure that we passed the Bohemian border a little while ago, but just how long has it been since we were in Munich? Has that much time really elapsed without my realizing it? It’s so foggy out there now, I can hardly see a thing beyond what might be a few meters beyond the train’s exterior. I notice my breathing start to pick up.
I peer over the top of the seats for someone else who might be alarmed by this. I find some dark haired man with glasses in business attire. His slumped over head caused his hat to obscure any of his facial features. He seems to have been out for a while…
There was someone else on the left side of the aisle that I can’t make out the features of either, as they were faced away. Whoever it is must be quiet large as their head of short curly hair poked up from the over the tall seats. Their head was leaned against the top of the headrest and seemed to be in a reclined position, though I wasn’t getting much more information about either passenger without leaving my seat.
I fall back into my spot, and immediately feel a wave of exhaustion spread throughout my body. I would’ve tried to wave down a clerk or something, but my eyelids kept drifting downward like I’ve been sedated… I can hardly move my limbs anymore. I… I suppose I’ve been fighting off the call of sleep for too long, and aside from the menacing fog outside, this would be as good a time as any to let a go for a bit.
I allow my eyes to drift closed again, and sleep takes me faster than I’d have anticipated.