Read Online DeBeers 06 Dark Seed by V. C. Andrews - Free Book Online
Authors: V. C. Andrews
Tags: Horror
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Amou, and my AM. I felt guilty calling her that now, but it just seemed to came naturally to me.
So much of this house still seemed off-limits to me or still carried unhappy memories. It was here in the family room that Alberta came upon me one afternoon. I was pretending to be a mother and I was mothering two small dolls. I suppose I was imitating her too well, for she stood behind me quietly, listened, and then pounced.
She told me I was sick in the head to think such terrible things at my age, and she warned me if she ever caught me doing it again, she would put glue in my mouth and make my tongue stick to the roof of it. It was a terrifying image. I tried not to cry until she left because she hated that. It only made her angrier.
Because of that and a few other occasions when she spied upon me. I took to whispering my pretend, even when I was outside and there was no chance of her overhearing any of it.
The Doctor had kept her things in the bedroom for a long time after she died, mostly because he just didn't have the time to get around to doing anything about it. I thought. but I also thought it was because removing her clothing, her cosmetics, her brushes and all would be like closing the lid on her coffin, and it was just something he was avoiding for as long as he could.
Now, her naked vanity desk remained, a cold reminder of what had once been. Of course. I recalled the infamous time she caught me in her makeup and revealed the great secret of my birth and status. I could see myself sitting there as a little girl, enjoying my pretend. and I could see her in the doorway, furious.
The Doctor's office would always remain sacrosanct to me. His personality was there, in its order and neatness. Alberta never liked coming in here, I thought. It actually was threatening to her. Maybe that was why I enjoyed being in there so much. In our house, this office was like a sanctuary. Evil, nastiness, anger, and pain were not permitted within its doors. Here there was only calmness, reason, logic, concern.
Amou's room was now occupied by Miles, because it was much nicer than the room he had had when she was living here. Still, just walking down that corridor and looking at the door brought back so many, many memories of her. I was so attached to her. I loved just watching her work, whether it was in the kitchen or doing her needlepoint. Her voice was forever embedded in my mind-- those melodies. Portuguese folk songs, children's songs, and her laughter, melodic, full of love and life. It still echoed in this hallway. It would never be gone.
I wandered to the rear door and stepped out on the patio. The sun was setting. This would be the last twilight here for me for a while. Despite the difficult childhood I had experienced growing up here, it was still home. I knew no other, and at least I had a home, a place to call my own, or as Robert Frost once wrote. "A place where when you go there, they have to take you in."
Even if it was no more than that, it was something. I had this great faith that, in the days and weeks, months and years to come. the Doctor-- my father-- and I would grow into a true father and daughter, and this house, these grounds would warm up considerably for me. There would be a time when we would truly just have each other, and that would be enough for both of us for a while.
I would get married and have a family of my own. I was very determined about that, too, as determined as I was to have a career. It was as if I thought I could get revenge for how I had been treated. My , child will drown in my love, I thought, There would never be a doubt as to whom his or her mother was. It made me laugh to think of myself that way, but there was something inside me that called for and demanded that.
Can we be forgiven for giving too much love?
We certainly can't be for giving too little, I thought angrily. Then I imagined the Doctor beside me shaking his head.
"Anger isn't appropriate for a therapist. Willow," he would tell
So much of this house still seemed off-limits to me or still carried unhappy memories. It was here in the family room that Alberta came upon me one afternoon. I was pretending to be a mother and I was mothering two small dolls. I suppose I was imitating her too well, for she stood behind me quietly, listened, and then pounced.
She told me I was sick in the head to think such terrible things at my age, and she warned me if she ever caught me doing it again, she would put glue in my mouth and make my tongue stick to the roof of it. It was a terrifying image. I tried not to cry until she left because she hated that. It only made her angrier.
Because of that and a few other occasions when she spied upon me. I took to whispering my pretend, even when I was outside and there was no chance of her overhearing any of it.
The Doctor had kept her things in the bedroom for a long time after she died, mostly because he just didn't have the time to get around to doing anything about it. I thought. but I also thought it was because removing her clothing, her cosmetics, her brushes and all would be like closing the lid on her coffin, and it was just something he was avoiding for as long as he could.
Now, her naked vanity desk remained, a cold reminder of what had once been. Of course. I recalled the infamous time she caught me in her makeup and revealed the great secret of my birth and status. I could see myself sitting there as a little girl, enjoying my pretend. and I could see her in the doorway, furious.
The Doctor's office would always remain sacrosanct to me. His personality was there, in its order and neatness. Alberta never liked coming in here, I thought. It actually was threatening to her. Maybe that was why I enjoyed being in there so much. In our house, this office was like a sanctuary. Evil, nastiness, anger, and pain were not permitted within its doors. Here there was only calmness, reason, logic, concern.
Amou's room was now occupied by Miles, because it was much nicer than the room he had had when she was living here. Still, just walking down that corridor and looking at the door brought back so many, many memories of her. I was so attached to her. I loved just watching her work, whether it was in the kitchen or doing her needlepoint. Her voice was forever embedded in my mind-- those melodies. Portuguese folk songs, children's songs, and her laughter, melodic, full of love and life. It still echoed in this hallway. It would never be gone.
I wandered to the rear door and stepped out on the patio. The sun was setting. This would be the last twilight here for me for a while. Despite the difficult childhood I had experienced growing up here, it was still home. I knew no other, and at least I had a home, a place to call my own, or as Robert Frost once wrote. "A place where when you go there, they have to take you in."
Even if it was no more than that, it was something. I had this great faith that, in the days and weeks, months and years to come. the Doctor-- my father-- and I would grow into a true father and daughter, and this house, these grounds would warm up considerably for me. There would be a time when we would truly just have each other, and that would be enough for both of us for a while.
I would get married and have a family of my own. I was very determined about that, too, as determined as I was to have a career. It was as if I thought I could get revenge for how I had been treated. My , child will drown in my love, I thought, There would never be a doubt as to whom his or her mother was. It made me laugh to think of myself that way, but there was something inside me that called for and demanded that.
Can we be forgiven for giving too much love?
We certainly can't be for giving too little, I thought angrily. Then I imagined the Doctor beside me shaking his head.
"Anger isn't appropriate for a therapist. Willow," he would tell
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