The Ward

It was a sad day for all involved.   The Willard family crypt welcomed another two family members into its cold marble embrace - victims of an apparent murder-suicide that had left little Jenna Willard orphaned, and unable to speak about what she had witnessed.  People paid their respects, told her they were sorry, and left.  Someone had suggested that, given the circumstances, a wake would be inappropriate.

The circumstances: Jenna had found her parents dead in the living room one morning and had raised the alarm by walking to next door where she collapsed into a neighbour's arms. It was assumed that she had tried reviving them, because their blood was spattered over her arms and across her chest. 

Jenna Willard. People said her name like a curse. She had always been a bit odd, had no friends in school to speak of, and had spent most of her time at home in what seemed like a loving family unit. Yet her parents had clearly chosen to leave her behind, to the mercy of social services and the courts, with no one for company. 

People whispered around her as they discussed her fate, and looked uncomfortable when she tried to lip-read. Her horrifying experience may have rendered her mute, but that didn't mean she couldn't understand what was going on. She knew they were trying to place her somewhere, without asking her opinion or including her in the decision-making process. 

A distant uncle was eventually tracked down, across country living in some kind of decaying ancestral pile. He sent a car for her, and to everyone's relief she packed a small suitcase and left to live with her only remaining relative.  The house was sold, with the money put into a trust fund for Jenna's twenty-first birthday, and people moved on.  A girl who was never really there was now really gone.   

The vines grew over the Willard family crypt, the metal on the doors rusted and buckled.  People chose to forget what had happened.  Neither Jenna nor her distant uncle were heard of again, and no-one visited the crypt on their behalf.  It fell into ruin and the Willard family name passed into urban myth. 

As for Jenna - she entered into a world so strange and antiquated, it seemed as if she had gone back in time. From the day that she car brought her to the high gates of her uncle's home and left her to walk up the driveway to the big, crumbling house, Jenna felt she was in a place left untouched by the modern world. She was living somewhere time stood still, and had done for a while.  

She took comfort in the fact that her uncle's house was trapped in a period before her parents' deaths, as if staying here would stop time progressing to that awful day.  Jenna relished it privately, and although she had never said so, she felt happier living with her uncle than she had done with her parents. She had a whole wing of her own to amuse herself in, a far cry from the tiny bedroom she had been used to. 

Her uncle Ralph was an ageing gentleman who had never married or had children of his own.  He was kind to Jenna but not loving, and whilst the few staff he employed to run the house would tiptoe around her, he refused to give her any special attention. 

'Just because you have suffered a tragic loss, doesn't mean you shall be treated any differently,' he said on the day that Jenna moved in, 'the court has appointed you as my ward, and you shall be educated and disciplined as I see fit.  I understand that a significant sum of money is being held in trust for your twenty-first birthday, but in order for you to touch it, you have to get there first.' 

Jenna had just stared at her feet as she was being addressed, although Ralph noticed that she was balling and un-balling her fists as she breathed. He assumed it was some kind of coping mechanism she had developed. He would see to it that she stopped that and any other habits she had picked up.  Life would be hard for her, he would make sure of that, but she would be all the stronger for it. 

Jenna let Ralph think what he wanted to think about her.  She was meek and quiet. As time went on, the house staff would whisper about her or giggle behind their hands. Little did any of them realise that a fire was burning inside of her that she was fighting to control.  She would ball and un-ball her fists to refocus her mind and vent her energy in small amounts. 

One day, she caught two maids talking about her, and decided to make an example of them.  They laughed at her when she stood before them balling her fists and not saying anything as usual.  This time was different, however - she un-balled her right fist and pointed at one of them, who promptly started clutching at her chest and collapsed. As the maid writhed around on the floor, Jenna pointed at the second one, and she, too fell down in pain.  Jenna kept focusing on them, sharing her pain with them, so much so that they couldn't cry out.  Within minutes they were dead, and Jenna simply stepped over their bodies and skipped away with a new energy. 

The coroner recorded that both maids had died of a heart attack, most likely within minutes of one another.  They had been found later by chance, huddled in a heap.  Since no-one had witnessed the strange event, their deaths were recorded as the result of natural causes.  Some had questioned whether drugs were involved, but this was quickly ruled out due to lack of evidence.  The only comfort for their families was that at least they'd died together. 

Things changed within the great house from that day.  The staff informed Ralph that Jenna had been heard singing and laughing to herself when she thought no-one else was around.  She was still mute when other people were around, but it was clear among the staff that she was hiding the fact that she could make some kind of noise. 

Ralph's valet was the next to go - suffering a stroke one day whilst he was in the pantry.  Unknown to everyone else, he had tried forcing himself on young Jenna, and she had simply unballed her fist and pressed her palm to the man's forehead, and he had collapsed, dead within seconds. 

The cook saw Jenna leaving the pantry, so she had to go too, if only because she must have heard Jenna's struggles with the valet and chose to do nothing.  Once again, Jenna simply touched her, and she suffered a seizure so bad she became comatose and died later in hospital. 

One by one, the staff died, and people in the village told of a sickness that had set in at the big house.  The police called to speak to Ralph, who couldn't make sense of what was happening.  When they tried to interview Jenna she was sullen and quiet, and Ralph had explained that she was mute. They left with more questions than answers, which set the village tongues wagging even more. 

Although no-one was brave enough to broach the subject, people whispered that it must be Jenna's fault.  People who had been through the childhood tragedy that she had were bound to be touched by it in some way.  She had brought a negative energy to the big house, and the staff had suffered because of her being there.  These rumours reached Ralph's ears, and so he called his ward to the study to ask her how she felt. 

'The local gossips have been at it again,' he told her as she stood before his desk staring at her feet, 'they say that you are cursed because of what happened to you as a child.  No child should grow up without parents, and although I took you in, I have to admit, I haven't been the father figure that I perhaps should have.  What should I say to these rumour-mongers?' 

'Say nothing.' Jenna answered. 

Ralph was taken aback, not just because Jenna had actually spoken, but because of the force with which she spoke. It was an order. 

Jenna looked up at him, meeting his eyes with an angry stare that he couldn't break away from. 

'I did it,' she said, 'I did it all.  My parents, the maids, your valet, the cook...and now you.  You will say nothing.' 

Ralph opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.   He tried to talk, but could only make strange yawning sounds that became increasingly desperate and wild as he feebly tried to fight against a hardening block in his throat. 

'You will never speak again, uncle.  But don't worry, I'll look after you, just like you looked after me.' 

Ralph gasped for air and clawed at his neck in panic. 

'Calm yourself,' Jenna said with a smile, 'you'll only make this more difficult.  You're going to live for a long time, but it'll be just us here, and you will never be able to speak again.' 

Jenna turned and skipped away, and for the first time, Ralph realised that she was no longer the small, frightened child who had been thrust on him by the court.  She was a strong, powerful young woman who had grown up without him even noticing.  As she laughed to herself and closed the door behind her, for the first time in a long time, he felt afraid.