Love's Secret Domain

Phineas walked for days without rest. He did not stop. He ate nothing; he did not sleep, he did not stay still long enough for anyone to really notice him. One woman gave him a strange look when she saw that he was talking to himself and crying and she stuck a twenty-dollar bill in his hand as he passed her. But other than that, people would clear his path when they saw him approaching.

He made a turn somewhere and found himself in a large span of woods. He decided to rest there. Leaning against a tree, his knees pulled up to his chest, his head resting atop them, his lanky arms wrapped around his ankles, he closed his eyes and remembered things best left to the dark recesses of his mind. Things no one should know, let alone live through.

He had often wondered why his father hadn’t just killed him and had asked Adalia as much.

“He can’t kill you, silly,” she had giggled as they hid within the hydrangea bush in his father’s garden, “He made you.”

She was only two years older than him, but she was as wise as a sage and Phineas believed everything she said. “You’re a part of him. Father is a lot of things Phin, but he won’t murder his own blood.”

When Phineas was three years old he witnessed the brutal slaying of his mother. His father made him watch it, forced him to sit in a chair while his mother sat opposite him. His child’s mind had no clue what he was about to see. He remembered his mother sitting there, regal in her pale blue dress, the collar low and lacy, her blonde hair upswept with tiny tendrils falling in curls around her face, and her perfect hands sitting limply in her lap, hands that had held Phineas a thousand times.

Her green eyes did not leave her son. They spoke her love and the pity she felt that her only child should be forced to watch his mother's demise. Her expression was one of defiance and hard determination, her lips pursed; her left eyebrow arched slightly, her cheeks flushed with anger.

She took a deep breath and tilted her head slightly and smiled at Phineas. “You are named after your grandfather, Phineas Oberon Pe Can Can you remember that for me?”

Phineas nodded and smiled at his mother, sitting on his hands, swinging his tiny legs as he sat in the chair.

“He was a very kind man, Phineas. He never killed unless it was absolutely necessary.” Her eyes shot at Phineas’ father and her expression turned to one of disgust.

She looked back to Phineas and her face became kind and maternal again. “No matter what may happen to you, you are part of me, I am li ins inside of you, when you laugh, I laugh with you, when you cry, I cry with you, when you breathe, I breathe with you. Always remember that?”

Phineas nodded again, a tiny “Mmmhmm,” coming from his mouth.

He slipped out of his chair and ran to her, wrapping his little arms around her waist and resting his head on her lap. Her long fingers ran through his hair and she gently lifted up his face to look into hers, “I love you, Phineas.”

She kissed his cheeks and then she grabbed him, pulling him up to her, embracing him so tightly that Phineas couldn’t breathe. He squirmed a little and heard his father say, “Enough! Phineas go and sit. Now!”

Phineas looked over his mother’s shoulder at the tall man standing behind her, his father. He had always been frightened of him and what little interactions he had with the man, were strained and cold. His mother let go of him and he scrambled back to his chair and sat down.

His father and one of his followers wrapped a thin piano wire around his mother’s neck. She did not flinch. Her face was calm and serene as she continued to smile at her son. As the two men walked to either side of her, Phineas noticed how taught the wire was, pinching the tender flesh around his mother’s neck. His little brow furrowed and he tilted his head.

“Never succumb,” his mother hoarsely whispered, “Always be true.”

And then just as suddenly as she had uttethe the words, the men pulled the wire with all their strength and his mother’s head popped off of her shoulders like a grape.

It tumbled to the marble floor and rolled to rest at the base of Phineas’ chair. Her green eyes looked up at him, her smile forever frozen on her blood spatterede. He. He looked up at her body, watched the life begin to spurt from the place where her head had been and saw the decapitated form slide, limp to the floor.

He looked up to his father and saw the glee there, heard him laugh, saw his eyes shine with the deed. “Defile it,” he said as he threw the wire to the floor.

The man, who had helped to pull the wire, bent down and picked up her headless body, throwing it over his shoulder. The blood poured from her neck and he threw the corpse atop the stone alter that sat in the center of the Holy Hall.

Phineas glanced down once again at his mother’s head and saw it snatched up by the hair. He looked up at his father standing before him, holding the head and shoving it in Phineas’ face. “This is what happens when you’re naughty,” he said with a grin.

Phineas looked past his father and saw the other man roughly lift the skirt of his mother’s dress while simultaneously ripping the bodice to expose her breasts.

And then Phineas ran, bolted from the chair to his room where he threw himself on his bed. His face was horror stricken and he lay there in utter silence, too frightened to scream, too terrified to cry because he was certain if he did his father would cut off his head too. A catatonic three year old, lying in the center of his bed too horrified to move, the image of his mother’s head, her headless body about to be used, the blood, so much of it that some of it had splashed against his tiny, yellow shoes.

The door swung open and there was Adalia. She was only five, her red hair in pigtails, the right strap of her pink sundress falling down her shoulder; her white sandals wrapped snug around her tiny feet.

“Phineas?” she quietly said as she stood by the door.

He said nothing, he did not move, he lay there like a tiny corpse trying to quietly breathe.

She walked over to his bed and sat down next to him. She took one of his limp hands in hers and held it firmly, “Phineas?” she whispered as she looked down at him.

His eyes darted to her and she reached down and kissed his cheek. And then he began to cry. Tiny sobs, fat, hot tears streaking his face, his little belly heaving for breath. Adalia lay down next to him and pulled him to her. His head rested against her chest and she wrapped her chubby arms tightly around him.

“He’s going to kill me if he hears,” he had desperately whispered as he clung to her.

"No he isn’t, I promise.”

He cried so hard that he had to gulp for air, his head throbbed and his nose ran onto the front of Adalia’s dress.

She leaned back and held up her right index finger, “Here, drink some of this. It will make you feel better.” She smiled ausheushed her finger into her brother’s mouth. He looked up at her, unable to see her clearly from the blurriness of his swollen, tear filled eyes.

Without hesitation, he punctured the tip of her finger with one of his sharp teeth. “Ouch,” he heard Adalia say as his tooth went through her flesh.

He pulled back and watched her smile again as she put her finger back in his mouth. “It just stung a little. It’s okay. I want you to.”

He looked into her face and began to suckle from her finger as she held him and rocked him. It soothed him, the warm liquid in his mouth, running down his throat and into his little belly. It tasted sweet.

“It’s going to be okay, Phineas,” she whispered, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Phineas lifted his head and wiped his eyes with the palms of his hand. "Mother," he whispered. "Oh, Mother."

He let his head rest against the rough bark of the tree behind him. He was hungry and he craved to taste Adalia, her warmth, her sweetness, the flesh of her finger resting against his lips as she held him, as he held her, his fingers running the length of her back.

He shook his head and ran his hands through his short hair. Adalia had cut it after they had killed their father. “I don’t want to think about that right now,” he said aloud.

He heard a rustle in the wild bushes behind him and saw a brown hare peek it’s head out before hopping to the base of a tree. With cat like speed, Phineas stood and deftly grabbed it, sinking his teeth into its furry neck. It tasted musky, but was warm and smooth and it would satisfy his immediate need.

He drained it and threw it back into the bushes and sat back down, wiping the blood from his chin. He lay down in the leaves and curled into a ball, wrapping his arms around his legs.

“Adalia,” he uttered, “Where are you?” He closed his eyes and rocked himself, “Please Adalia, Please don’t be dead.”