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Susanna Page

The cold snows of bitter winter were nothing next to the past two years of servitude. Even as Susanna stood there towering over the old woman’s dead body, she felt nothing but the same numbness she had every day spent with her. The same expression of discontent frozen on her still face, even her arms appeared clenched closely to her body. And every detail of her hair, the familiar blue cotton dress, and heavy brown shoes seemed meticulously planned, as if the caretaker had sensed she would somehow be watching her own memorial service.

And was she watching now? A cruel chill embraced her at the idea, but indeed it seemed possible. Certainly the old woman’s expectations of her own funeral were not met today. Susanna was already swimming in the same feeling of failure and hopelessness as she looked around the room.

Susanna stood hovering a few moments longer, feeling certain she would sit up and snatch her wrist, shouting, “What have you done!” She could already feel the clammy hand on her, the same piercing, cold touch the old woman had in life. Susanna stumbled back quickly, of course, just in case. With no further delay, she snuck her way out through the side door.

It was those cruel, black eyes that frightened her since she was a child. Relentless and unforgiving, they followed her everywhere, she could just feel it. Where are you going? What are you trying to do now? No matter how far she went, the old woman always could pull her right back to her side. Rather a disappointment than a daughter, she had mocked. Then mocked Susanna more with each passing year.

Too much sunlight blinds her still, being kept up in the dark fortress she longed to leave and never return – time and time again. Everything was quite as she had left it, the same lace-lined curtains hung uniformly on all of the windows and each floor draped in shaggy, coffee brown carpets. Light beamed in the main living area in the afternoon, but had filled Susanna with detest. Her days were often spent like when she was a child, reading her books in the dark, damp basement. A haven of as much peace and solitude as she could manage, it was the one place the old woman did not follow. But the sound of her cane banged through the floor, her shrill screams brought great dread.

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