The Malady of Elegance
~=-=-=-=~
He liked me before. He did. He did. He did when we were young I found him in the woods and he had fallen and his blood was on his hands and he was crying. Loud. Loud. Morfin would hear and come and Morfin was mean and would hurt him. He was bleeding. It was red. So red. Redder than mine. Mine is dark. His is red.
It is muggle blood.
It is bad and it is dirty and it is red.
I put my hands on it. On him. I touch the blood. I touch it and it touches me. He looks at me. His face was small. He said help. He said it hurts. I said I can help. I said I can make it better. I put my hands on his and I held them. I had seen daddy do it. I had seen daddy make it better when he hurt himself. I am like daddy. I could make it better too.
Nothing happens. The red red blood does not disappear. The scrape sits there open and ugly. He cries. Loud. Loud. Red. Red. Red.
“What you doin’, Merope? Who’s tha’?”
There is the rock he had fallen on. Shining. It looks different on the rock than it does on his hand.
There is the rock in my hand. Hard. My nails scratch when I hold it but I don’t let go.
There is the rock on Morfin’s head. Wet. Red. Red. Red and dark like mine.
Morfin will not hurt him now.
He’s stopped crying. His face is wet, nose running down into his open mouth. Eyes like ink blinking at me.
“Please, d-don’t h-hurt me.”
I drop the rock. Thud. Red on green leaves.
I pick up the wand. Morfin never lets me touch it. Morfin never lets me hold it.
My hand closes around it. He tries to run away. I stop him.
“Stop.”
He stops. He stays.
He holds out his hand. I put the wand on it. I think about his hand. I think about his skin. I think about his blood.
He screams. It’s gone. All his pretty pretty red is gone. He looks at me. He smiles.
My heart hurts hurts hurts. He smiles and it makes me sick. He smiles and I can’t look away because it's perfect red lips and clean white teeth and a happy pink tongue sitting between them and clear skin moves when it grows and dark eyes light up.
It’s magic.
This is magic.
My head hurts.
He is saying something but I cannot hear because I watch his red mouth. He stares at me. The smile goes away.
So does he.
I sit next to Morfin and wait for him to wake up.
I do not make it better.
~=-=-=-=~
He liked me then. Walking to the village. He was showing some other children a metal thing with wheels. It was red. Red like his smile because he was smiling. Happy. About his metal and wheels and happy that the children were happy about his metal and wheels.
I wanted to be happy with him.
Don’t talk daddy said. Don’t talk to those filthy muggles down there.
I did not talk to them but I liked to watch. They talked and walked and carried things and bought things and laughed and smiled.
They’re animals daddy said. Disgusting creatures without sense or thought.
Morfin laughed. Morfin always laughs now. He used to never laugh until I hit him with the rock.
I made it better. I made him better.
“It’s the newest model.” Dark curls. “The best on the market.” Soft hands.
My hands are dirty and rough. I scrub the floor and they turn hard. I work in the garden and my nails are always black. My hair falls long in front of my eyes. Morfin says ugly. Daddy says I don’t look like mother. I take a piece of hair. I put it in my mouth. I try to clean it. I wipe my hands on my dress. It is dirty too.
He sees me and my head hurts again. It pounds. Loud. Loud.
The red metal is bright and he’s holding onto it and his hands aren’t red this time. My hands are dirty and dark. I am not supposed to talk. Daddy said not to talk.
Daddy said they were savages. Vile. Nasty.
He is looking at me. The red metal is in his hands and he is looking at me. He remembers me. Remembers that I helped him.
“Can I help you?”
My words die. I am not supposed to talk but he is talking to me. He is talking to me. He is asking me again and I can not speak. My mouth opens. My hair falls out and is wet on my chin.
“Hello.”
He looks scared. He moves back. The other children whisper and then start to laugh. They laugh like Morfin. At me. He is looking at me. He laughs too.
His mouth opens and is red.
“What did you say?” he asks.
Nothing happens. I will make it happen. “I said hello.”
His nose wrinkles. His fine skin lines and eyes deepen.
He laughs again.
“She’s simple.” One of the boys. “Come on, Tom.”
Tom. He is Tom.
I am simple and he is Tom.
“Tom.” My tongue says. It does not twist like before.
He does not answer. He gets on the red metal and puts shiny shoes on it and it moves. Daddy has a broom but this does not fly. The red gleams. It’s bright and I close my eyes.
The red metal takes him away.
I say it again and again. I speak even though daddy told me not to.
“Tom.”
~=-=-=-=~
He likes me again. He has to. Morfin stole a turnip from his garden. Morfin is always trying to take things. He runs home and laughs. He shows his snakes. He talks to them and tells them how he is so smart and the muggle so stupid. He does not think I listen. I listen. Even when I don’t want to hear what he hisses to them I listen.
I am ugly he says so every day Merope you are ugly.
That is not what he tells his snakes.
I have the turnip. I am giving it back. Daddy will be mad. Daddy is always mad. Daddy does not like me.
Tom likes me.
It smells bad here and I choke on smoke.
He does not choke. He breathes it in.
He is tall. Tall. Tall. He is dark and tall. There is red at the end of a stick in his mouth.
“Thief.”
I drop the turnip.
I want to run. My legs don’t work. My head hurts.
The stick is red again. Smoke. I can’t see him.
“Should I call the constable?”
No no no. Daddy will be mad. So mad. It will hurt. The ring is sharp and last time it hurt my eye. He did not make it better.
He throws the stick on the ground and shiny shoes step on it. They shine even at night. Nothing of mine shines. Except the locket. It hangs around my neck and is heavy. I don’t like it. Morfin likes it. Daddy says I have to wear it. Even if I am a squib.
He kicks the turnip. “I don’t want it back.”
It rolls away from the garden shed. I will take it back to Morfin. Daddy won’t be mad.
“You’ll have to pay for it.”
He smiles. His mouth is red and wet. I want to touch it. It speaks and I don’t even if mine is open and open and my tongue is out.
“With this?” The locket is in his hand. Soft hand. It is not red. It is white and flat and long. “No, with these.”
It is on my chest. It is touching me. He is touching me. Tom is touching me. His hand pushes into my chest and moves from one side to the other. My head hurts. It pounds. I feel sick but not bad. I like this sick. It is a nice sick. It is a good sick. It is very good.
The locket is cold on my skin and his red mouth is smiling and my dress is also open. His hand is holding parts of me, squeezing them. Pushing them. It is soft. Very soft. It is white and clean and pulling at my red nipples.
Both hands now. He is feeling my whole chest. Holding both. Pressing clean fingers in and making them dent. He likes it. He likes me. He likes me. He has to. He likes this and he likes me.
I like it too. He looks at my chest with eyes like ink and his red mouth is open and I want to kiss it.
Morfin kisses his snakes sometimes.
He crushes their heads when they bite him.
I will not bite Tom. His hand is big enough to crush me.
“Kiss me.”
He stops. He pushes me. Hard and not soft anymore. “Don’t hiss at me, you freak.”
I can’t say anything. My chest is empty and he’s not touching it anymore and I want his hands back.
“No, get away from me, you stinking hag!”
He is backing away. He is putting another stick into his mouth and clicks something and it shines red again. It glows in his ink black eyes. Red.
“Don’t you… like… me?” I do not hiss. He said not to hiss so I do not hiss. My tongue feels too big in my mouth when I use his words.
He laughs. And smiles. He likes me too. He always smiles at me.
“As if I would like a scrawny thing like you. Your cunt probably smells worse than your breath. Go back to your shack and rot there. I don’t want to catch you around here again.”
The smoke smells again. He blows it into my face and I cough it out of my lungs. The locket swings and hits my chest. My dress is still open so he can touch me again.
“Get out of here, you ugly whore. If I see you back here again I will call the constable and press charges for trespassing and robbery.” His mouth opens again. “And solicitation.”
I don’t want to go. He likes me. He has to. He touched me. He likes me.
“Go! Get off of my property!” He throws the stick at me and the red hurts my chest.
I cry. It hurts and it;s caught in my dress and it hurts and hurts and hurts. I cry and hit it until it stops. It leaves red spots on me. Darker than his mouth.
Tom is laughing again. Smiling again. Daddy says muggles can’t do magic but he is making it better.
“Take your turnip with you. It’s bigger than both your tits but I suppose you earned it.”
He turns and kicks the turnip away again. I look for it and when I find it he is almost to the big house. I hold it to my chest and carry it home.
“Where were ya?”
I walk past Morfin.
“Wha’ happened to ya dress?”
I lay in my bed.
“You got ugly marks.”
I stare at the ceiling.
“She walks in here with her dress open. She wants me to see them, yes she does, snakey. She wants me to see them.”
I don’t move when he puts the snake on my belly.
His hands are not soft. They are rough and feel like scales.
They do not feel like his.
The dark red marks hurt when Morfin touches them.
~=-=-=-=~
He likes me but he is with that girl. With the yellow hair it is short like the girls in the village wear it. It is yellow and her lips are red. It is paint. They are not like his.
He rides by with her. He smiles. He laughs. He looks at me in the window. He likes me. He has to. He looks at the window. I look out the window. He looks in the window. He looks back at her.
Her dress has red flowers. He tells her she looks pretty and she laughs and he laughs and they laugh together. Her gloves are white and clean. My hands are black from soot. Morfin burned a snake. I cleaned it up when daddy yelled. Morfin laughed. Loud. Loud. Daddy hurt him with red light.
I do not laugh with Morfin. I chew on my hair until it is short like the girls’ in the village. I put my hands in the ashes until they are pale. I bite my finger and draw red flowers on my dress. They turn brown.
In the village I listen. They say wedding and marriage. They say Tom. They say Anna.
I do not like Anna.
I tell Morfin’s snakes.
Tell Morfin Anna talks about him in the town. Tell Morfin Anna asks about him. Tell Morfin Anna looks for him when Tom brings her by. They tell Morfin.
Morfin goes looking for Anna.
Anna has a brother.
Morfin has a wand.
Anna does not have a brother.
I stay quiet when the man comes and asks questions. I do not tell him what I told the snakes. Daddy says not to speak. I do not speak.
I watch Tom drive past. It is metal and it is red but it is not the red metal he had before. This is bigger. He sits in it. Anna is not with him.
I want to be with him. I have to be.
Daddy and Morfin make the man go away.
Then Daddy and Morfin go away.
Tom’s red metal stops in front of the house. It is smoking but he is not breathing it in. He is angry and throws his hat. Dark hair sticks to his face. He is sweating. He is thirsty. I can make it better.
~=-=-=-=~
He likes me when he drinks the potion. He likes the potion. He drinks it and tells me how much he likes it. He tells me how much he likes me. How much he loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.
I make the potion every day and stir and stir and stir. It is red. Dark. I cut my nipples and milk the dark red in. The steam is hot and makes it go faster.
“It tastes like cherries.”
I give him more.
He smiles and laughs and spins me around and my head hurts but I like it and I like him and I love him and he loves me and he kisses me with his red mouth.
It tastes like cherries. Red. Red.
I taste it every night.
I am sick. Tom tries to touch me. I tell him no I am sick. Sick. Tom touches me. I tell him stop. He drinks the potion. He tells me he loves me so he can’t stop. He is not stopping. He tells me he loves me. Loves me. Loves me. Has to. Has to. Has to love me. I am sick. It is smeared on my face. It does not taste like cherries.
We are in love. He will marry me and we will have our child. He will love us both. We will love it together. We will love him back. We will be happy and Tom will smile and laugh and it will have his red mouth and ink eyes. I will teach it potions and spells. I am not a squib. I made the potion I am not a squib and Tom loves me and not because of the potion. I asked and he said he loves me.
That he does he does he does he has to.
I asked if he loves the baby. He did not answer. He will love it. He will he has to. When it is here he will love it like he loves me.
It will be here soon.
His ink eyes still have red stains but I do not make the potion now. I do not need to. He loves me and I know because he kisses me with his red mouth and tells me.
We do not need the potion. We will have a baby. He loves me. We will be happy with our baby and our baby will be happy.
I made the potion and I made it better. He loves me now and he is better. I made him better. So much better that we do not need it. He does love me. He does he does.
He loves me now.
~=-=-=-=~