W.D.L Diamond

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The Dark Legacy of Cathryn: A Tale of Survival

Cathryn, born in 1872, faces a harrowing life marked by abuse at the hands of her husband, George Smythe, leader of the Cult of the Minotaur. After her family is killed, she is taken in by the Smythe family. As Cathryn endures George’s sadistic control, she is trained as a Hunter, but her independence is…

W.D.L Diamond
33–49 minutes
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The Coming From the Shadows Series

Connected Instalments:

C.F.T.S
Cathryn’s Chronicles:
The Pain of Servitude

Background:

Born in 1872; Cathryn was born amidst the purge of the British ‘Hunters’ a disorganised Anti-Imperium group, while other groups still survived, the British ‘Hunters’ had been brought to near-extinction under the Cult of the Minotaur’s then-leader; Elias Smythe – Cathryn who had been born only hours before the attack was spared the purge as her parents fled the Farmstead East of Lancaster, settling into an isolated upbringing in King’s Langley, she would experience tragedy in 1887 when the Cult of the Minotaur tracked and finished the Langdon family; or, so they had believed.

Cathryn, only 14 at the time would be found by Anne Smythe – the cousin of the newly established Leader of the Cult of the Minotaur and the Head of the Smythe Family; George Smythe, a sadistic man who only sought power, using his families business empire, George had not only secured his position but threatened the official elected leader of the Imperium itself; Victor, George found himself unchallenged, with their private Estate away from London along the River Thames, Cathryn would encounter George where Anne resided – the initial encounter was marked by curiosity by both Cathryn and George; George recognised Cathryn as a potential threat, but that shifted, realising her naivety and lack of social interactions would prove beneficial.

Cathryn, she became infatuated by George – the addition of his ‘Protection’ allowed her to live in a place of confusing opulence and safety amidst what could only be seen as a Dystopian surroundings.

Cathryn though would not remain idle at the Smythe Estate; the strange, enigmatic figure simply known as ‘The Monk’ would continue Cathryn’s ‘Hunter’ training, providing her more advanced techniques, blending what she learnt from her parents and helping her adapt it to Eastern-Styles of fighting, as well as learning to use chemicals and knife-combat, providing her the ability to understand pressure points, each of these skills would be put to use, Cathryn would begin tracking and eliminating Imperium operatives, George provides names too, much to her confusion – but Geoge’s motivations stemmed from his desire to further his power.

Anne would remain a constant source of warmth in Cathryn’s dark world – but, she failed to notice George’s intentions, George slowly began to twist things, prepared her for his own sadistic intentions, making her reliant despite her activities as a ‘Hunter’ until everything culminated to a point of no return for Cathryn; she accepted a marriage proposal – really, a command disguised as a question – the abuse soon followed, Cathryn’s initial attempts to seek help was met with a fast reprisal; Anne, after Cathryn sought her help was exiled, leaving Cathryn without anyone to turn too as she found her world gradually shrinking, her escapes from the Estate becoming less and less; violence took root, during March of 1890 Cathryn would miscarry after an attempt to defend herself from George’s violence only to be met with a violent reprisal.

Cathryn began to adopt passivity as a desperate bid to avoid George’s rage and anger, though it did little to stop him; upon a rare escape from the Manor, Cathryn found herself being paraded amongst the inner-circle of George’s Cultist followers not long after her miscarriage, despite clearly struggling physically, George added further insult – revealing how he had used her as a tool to eliminate his enemies, applying additional attacks on her mental state.

During further humiliation; Cathryn would tend to meals during a second Cultist meeting at the Smythe Estate, despite struggling, she would serve meals, most of those present though came as representatives of the Imperium, from the other various Cultist groups – French, German, Spanish, but amongst them was two American’s; Benjamin and Isabelle – Isabelle who had recently had her third child, a daughter, had taken notice of Cathryn’s plight and would seek to help her, even vowing to George of her intention to take Cathryn away from him with her husband; Benjamin’s support – though, George would evict them from the Estate – leaving them to plan out how they could provide assistance.

Despite March being the month of her miscarriage – George would cause a second pregnancy that would come to term in December of 1890; the first – Elizabeth was born December 20th while hours after around the early hours of December the 21st – the second child; Lydia – shared Cathryn’s birthday – eventually a collapse would come on December the 24th due to George’s refusal to let Cathryn rest – she would be designated bedrest by a Doctor much to George’s irritation.

In January though things would change drastically – while efforts where made by Anne Smythe with a surviving ‘Hunter’ named; Jesse to organise an attempt to liberate and free Cathryn, with support from Benjamin and Isabelle providing them funding – a Manchurian named Xian – indebted to Cathryn made a reckless attempt to rescue her solo resulting in George’s vicious reprisal.

Cathryn, for 5-Years would find herself enduring his brutal ‘Re-Education’ tactics – and these would be performed even in the presence of her twin daughters, demonstrating to Cathryn that nothing would stop him.

Introduction:

The 20th of January, 1896 A.D.
The Smythe Estate, Along the River Thames

The wintery winds howled mournfully across the Smythe Estate; whistling through subtle cracks present in the window frames adding to the already symphony of horror of the colossal gothic manor that rested like some sleeping beast at the heart of the private Estate.

The fog rolled in from the river Thames, while the spires etched against the sky.

Within the labyrinthine of horror a scream rang out; thin and brittle as ice; it ripped through the oppressiveness of the night, echoing from the upper-floors and momentarily drowning out the buffeting winds.

The scream tapered into a ragged whimper; then silenced – the silence was far more chilling than any sound; within her bedroom, swathed in oppressive velvet and heavy brocade; George Smythe – a man who’s presence filled the room with a predatory energy, meticulously re-buttoned the cuffs of his silk-dressing gow, he moved with an unhurried precision of a craftsman admiring his work – his dark blonde hair, slicked back from his high forehead, gleamed faintly in the low light of the gas-lamp, his cold, glacial-icy blue eyes, usually sharp with political cunning, held a peculiar detached satisfaction.

Beneath him; Cathryn lay face down, her body rigid, her head burrowed into the pillow as if seeking oblivion.
The air was thick with the metallic tang of fear and something more, something unspeakable, her breath came in shallow, desperate gasps – she felt the cool, almost gentle touch of George’s hands that made her tense briefly fearing something else was coming, but she remained fixed in place as she felt him begin to release the restraints from her wrists; the click of a latch soon followed; like a gunshot in sudden quiet.

She remained motionless, a statue of grief; her mind was blank and terrified – then it came, the soft, almost imperceptible click of the door closing, a subtle shift in the air pressure as he left, only then In the absence of his formidable present – that feeling of a suffocating cloud that dissipated, did Cathryn finally move.

A slow, shuddering breath escaped; with a convulsive effort, she rolled – not onto her back on the bed, but to its very edge, she tumbled off with a soft, muffled thud onto the floor, she laid there, spread-eagle, a broken doll discarded in shadow; tears, hot and bitter finally escaped the dam she had held so desperately; her body shuddered uncontrollably as she sobbed, her body already ached, a deep – pervasive throbbing that went beyond any physical pain, it had fully settled into her bones, a testament of the systematic erosion she endured.

Chapter 1:

As Cathryn lay on the floor, her sobs shaking her entire frame, she willed herself to disappear – to dissolve into the shadows and cease to exist, but, she couldn’t…, there was still something that kept her there; even as that darkness threatened to consume, a soft high-pitched voice, like a fragile bell chiming  pierced her stupor “Mummy”

Cathryn’s head snapped up – her silvery eyes darting towards the sound, panic-flared, her body exposed with fresh evidence of George’s cruelty, she felt vulnerable; a surge of adrenaline that she didn’t know she possessed forced her next movement, she scrambled at the duvet, dragging it from the bed in a desperate and clumsy yank to cover herself – the youngest of her twins; Lydia, she was like the miniature version of Cathryn’s image – they shared the same long Raven-Dark Hair, it fell like a curtain framing Lydia’s face, her eyes wide and observant – the same Silvery-Grey as Cathryn “Lydia?” Cathryn’s voice was a raw whisper, raspy and barely audible, she tried to force a lightness into it; a semblance of normalcy, a charade she had been forced to adopt over the years of abuse “What…, what are you doing awake my darling girl; are you okay, is everything alright?”

Lydia didn’t answer immediately; her delicate brow was furrowed – her gaze fixed onto her mothers huddled frame, the duvet pulled tightly, even at the innocence of five-years old, Lydia had already displayed a an uncanny perceptiveness; she had witnessed her fathers cruelty, she had seen the furtive glances, the supressed flinches; the way weary shadows clung to her mother’s eyes – she didn’t fully comprehend the depravity of George’s abuse – but she understood pain, she understood fear and the unspoken agony that radiated from her mother.

Slowly; deliberately, Lydia stepped further into the room, closing the door – she didn’t rush, her small feet padded silently as she skirted the edge of the bed and came closer to her mothers, kneeling down, her gaze unwavering; without a word, without a moment of hesitation; Lydia leaned forwards, gently and carefully; she wrapped her small arms around her mother, it was a gesture of pure, unadulterated comfort, a silent promise of solidarity.

The reaction came fast; a strangled sob she couldn’t contain escaped Cathryn’s lips – the carefully constructed façade crumbled as she closed her eyes, her tears streaming freely and she pulled Lydia into a tight embrace – she buried her face into Lydia’s hair, it was a moment that would solidify the bond between mother and child, an unbreakable anchor.

While Mother and Daughter shared a growing bond – on the opposite side of the sprawling manor, the older twin; Elizabeth skipped down the polished corridor; her blonde hair, styled into the bouncing pigtails that currently danced about with her sharp playful movements – Elizabeth was the female-version of her father, she didn’t just share his blonde hair, but his icy-blue eyes.

Though; it was only physical; she shared the same darkness as her father, she had already begun displaying tendency to favour her father unlike Lydia who always craved to be nearer their mother – Elizabeth had instead craved George’s attention – she adopted his traits and harshness.

She discovered her father going into the study which immediately made her rush to follow; as she barged into the open room, she found him settling behind his old mahogany desk, a strong scent of pipe tobacco and old money  filled the senses, she tilted her head as she noticed the glass of amber liquid in his hand, his gaze though was distant; calculating “Father!” Elizabeth chirped, her voice bright and unburdened – she pranced up to him, he small hands reaching for the desk “William; he said he would teach me; teach me to be strong like you and him; he said I can learn to be as clever and as strong”

Her eyes sparkled with that same predatory eagerness, a desire to emulate the power she saw he possessed.

George’s eyes shifted; he looked at his daughter with a hint of amusement, but, ever-the manipulator, he expressed a rare warmth that was reserved exclusively for Elizabeth; he recognised her desire to please, to emulate; she truly was his legacy if he raised her the right way – he foresaw her embodying the ruthlessness he embodied, and he would ensure that was what Elizabeth would prize above all else; he needed to ensure Cathryn’s moral compass wouldn’t be adopted by Elizabeth – Elizabeth’s innocent declaration and childish ambition was precisely what he wanted to cultivate.

The division was already beginning, subtle as a whisper – he would ensure Cathryn would see her own children follow his example; Elizabeth gravitated towards George’s power, though; Lydia mystified him, she was too empathetic.., too much like Cathryn, he didn’t understand how, he didn’t really let Cathryn educate either of them, he purposely tried to limit their time together – yet, Lydia continued to defy him – she refused to bond with him like Elizabeth would; he would break that one way or another.

Chapter 2:

Wyoming, United States

Across the ocean on the American continent; the Mason Estate was at present still growing and developing under Benjamin’s watch – so many changes had happened in the past few years, but one things was a constant gnawing on the mind, Isabelle’s desperation had not dissipated, she refused to give up any effort, though Victor who had initially been prepared to give Benjamin and Isabelle an unsanctioned freedom, had now withdrawn it entirely, it had created tension between the Mason family and the Imperium’s leader – Victor found himself unable to make requests of Isabelle due to her flat out refusal, Benjamin would remain a constant supportive figure, his chivalry directed each choice he made, and as the leader of the American Cult ‘The Brothers and Sisters of Liberty’ he held a rather unique position, much like how George had with his leadership over the Cult of the Minotaur in Britain and her vast Colonial Empire.

At present though, Benjamin stood outdoors with his two son’s; his eldest; Morgan at 14 and the younger lad; Jakob at 6 – he was overseeing Morgan’s practise with firearms, he had begun this training with Morgan two-years earlier, Jakob often found himself in awe at the raw power displayed by the firearms used by Benjamin while also feeling inspired by his brothers amateur use of a weapon he struggled to maintain a firm grip on “Careful!” Benjamin shouted, repositioning himself a moment and reaching to adjust how his son was holding the rifle and then gestured once again towards the target “Right”

Benjamin was a man whose physical presence alone so often commanded respect, his dark hair was short; his facial hair meticulously groomed, he let out a rare chuckle of amusement as his son squeezed the trigger, the loud ‘pop’ ringing out and echoing across the land

“Impressive” a Scottish accent stated firmly – it drew the attention of all three, there, Victor was slowly approaching, his hands clasped behind his back, further away in the distance a carriage; it was obvious it had only just arrived “That lad of yours will be a brilliant marksman”

Benjamin rotated around fully, his hands moving to his the pockets of his jacket as he watched Victor’s approach, his eyes momentarily shifting towards the nearby building; he had no doubts Isabelle would be aware of Victor’s presence, and then, then there was the youngest; the inquisitive daughter; Erin, he was almost certain she would be making an appearance to discover who this ‘arrival’ was – it was almost on cue with his thought of her as soon as she would appear.

Erin as tiny as she was came rushing out, the pale complexion and black hair gave the young girl a rather ethereal appearance; she just looked so ghostly that it actually startled Victor as Erin came rushing up to his side, her head tilted a moment towards the side as she eyed him intensely with her emerald-green eyes “She is like Isabelle” Victor stated, his tone somewhat unnerved “Except the eyes….”

“My eyes” Benjamin said with a rather neutral voice “What do we owe this visit Victor?”

“I have come to speak with you and Isabelle; it is regards to your attempts five-years ago, I have found some support amongst many of our Irish and Norwegian Cultist brothers and sisters; they are eager to begin trying to break George’s power and influence” Victor tells him, shifting his attention from Erin towards Benjamin; though the approach of Isabelle drew their attention to her

Isabelle, like her daughter carried a ghostly presence; her hair dark and contrasting against her pale complexion, her eyes like oak so often she had been viewed almost possessed by members of the Imperium’s council – she had a reputation for her ‘Ghostly’ or ‘Demonic’ presence, despite it, the allure of her beauty was what captivated Benjamin, instead of intimidating him like she did so many others “Isabelle” Victor greeted

“If you have come here seeking our aid in another of your schemes that involves your business operations, go elsewhere” she stated; her tone even, it was cold and dismissive – her features however did not betray any emotion, remaining natural despite the hostility that simply oozed from her

“”I assure you Isabelle; this visit is about something else entirely, not business” Victor aid with a smile curving his lips “Cathryn” he said simply

It wasn’t only Isabelle’s attention that the name would draw – Morgan also shifted; his bright green eyes, which had been fixed on the rifle had now fixed onto the conversation; his young mind was captivated by just the name alone ‘Cathryn’ he didn’t know who this person was, but the name and how his mothers facial expression briefly showed interest was all that it took to snap and ensare his attention – the name alone held an inexplicable alure for the 14 Year old boy.

“You…, you intend to help her?” her tone began to give way to her hopes; the desperation she felt to help the young woman

“What I am proposing is, simple; you want to liberate her still, and I want George’s power curtailed, with recent shifts in how George has been acting and abusing his position to interfere in Norway has begun creating a small coalition within the Imperium” Victor’s smile took on a strangely sinister curve, like that of a Cheshire cat’s grin; it was rather unnerving

Isabelle clicked onto the selfish reason behind his sudden change, but she cared little – it was enough for her to work with; to get what she was wanting – open support to help a young woman desperately needing help.

Chapter 3:

The Smythe Estate, Along the River Thames

In one of the many rooms of the dystopian opulence of the Smythe’s manor; William – the son George was at least aware of found himself subject to his mothers anger; William was very much like his father in appearance, though his hair differed, it took on a darker colour, and shared the same eyes as his mother – his mother, so much smaller than William now, had grown accustom to the height of her son, but, he would still find himself feeling so much smaller.

Peggy, stood as a defiant former love to George, she had been in a relationship with him before Cathryn had even lost her parents, Peggy was once subject to similar abuse by George – she noted the differences stemming from Cathryn’s heritage, unlike Peggy, George needed to break Cathryn completely, and so far, he had accomplished that – Peggy, who had once escaped shortly before William had been born, found herself being brought back to the Smythe Estate from Ireland in 1890 during Cathryn’s most vulnerable period – purposely brought to create jealousy, something that George discovered wouldn’t happen – mostly due to Peggy’s disinterest, but unlike Cathryn; Peggy had learnt from her first interaction; she had developed a much more robust exterior, she was much harder to crack a second time around, and the longer she and William where around Cathryn, the more they witnessed, the more they felt for her.

But right now; Peggy was needing to step in to prevent George’s growing influence on William “You’re becoming too much like him William!” she snapped “I can see it in your eyes, the way you hold yourself; the way you so willingly follow his commands, do not let him twist you” she said; her Irish accent pleading

William though noticed movement at the threshold and subtly shifted his weight, he provided a silent signal to his mother; Peggy, noticing his almost imperceptible gesture abruptly fell silent, her attention shifting and her eyes narrowing as George entered the room “Peggy” George’s voice was smooth, deceptively polite, yet laced with an undeniable steel “What precisely are you doing here, bothering ‘my’ son, should you not be attending to your duties, or perhaps ensuring that Cathryn isn’t slacking in her…, recovery?” the last word was drawn out, dripping with an implicit sneer

Peggy’s eyes flashed; she wasn’t going to cower – she had endured before, she survived, and she would continue to survive, she wasn’t going to let him dictate to her again “You do not control me George; not anymore” she stated firmly, her tone icy “And sooner or later; Cathryn will snap back, she might be afraid now…”

A slow, predatory grin curved George’s lips; pulling at the corners of his lips; it created a chilling expression, devoid of warmth, brimming with malice “Oh I do hope so; she knows the consequences by now surely; but I would love another excuse to push even more of our ‘re-educational’ sessions upon her”

“You’re a madman” Cathryn responded, her voice horrified “You enjoy inflicting these extreme…, punishments…, hurting her?”

“Oh indeed” George’s eyes flickered towards William for a moment, a subtle invitation to observe “Cathryn’s anti-Imperium heritage you see; that…, role as a ‘Hunter’ is justification enough; she is a wild creature needing to be tamed, broken; the more resistant; the more satisfying the process” he savoured the words, the sadistic pleasure evident in each syllable, he was completely unashamed of the depravity he openly admitted too

He then shifted his focus entirely to William; his expression instantly business-like “William, you have my permission to begin teaching Elizabeth; start her on the rudiments of…, strength; mental fortitude above all”

William’s expression remained unreadable but he gave a slow, deliberate nod; his gaze steady as he met his father’s eyes – it was an acknowledgement, nothing more, nothing less.

George then turned; he walked off without another word leaving mother and son alone, the heavy doors closing with a light thud – William shifted his attention to his mother, his eyes losing their carefully constructed neutrality; they held a glint of something cold, something calculating “Mother” he said, his voice almost a whisper “The best chance of survival, particularly here and in ‘his’ world, is to learn how to use ones enemies tactics against them”

Peggy stared at him, a flicker of confusion warring with a dawning horror in her eyes; her brow furrowed “William; what are…, what are you up too?” her voice was barely audible, a quiet tremble of fear – she saw George’s shadow in him, but also something else should couldn’t truly work out, there was a dangerous game afoot and her son, she suddenly realised was no mere pawn, but a player.

Chapter 4:

Making his way from the backrooms where he had seen his son; George found his way towards the kitchen, merely a curiosity to ensure Cathryn was not neglecting the household duties that he had piled upon her, though what he hadn’t expected upon entering the doorway was Lydia.

Lydia was huddled against Cathryn’s skirt, her small hands clutching against the rough woollen fabric as she remained a quiet companion to her mother while she tried to go about her usual cleaning duties – to George it was a moment of bewilderment, he realised that trying to force the separation was going to prove difficult, he would need to provide Lydia a ‘lesson’ in consequences, that she would only be allowed around her mother when ‘he’ permitted it.

Before George had entered that kitchen; the air was rather easy-going, Lydia was merely enjoying being in her mothers presence; but now, in George’s presence that fragile atmosphere had been shattered, Lydia had noticed him first “Lydia” his voice boomed with a low resonant note that seemed to vibrate Cathryn’s very bones as she shifted her attention towards him “Come here”

Lydia though instinctively tightened her grip on Cathryn, shrinking further into her mother’s shadow – it was such a small, innocent act; a child’s natural reluctance to leave the safety of a parent; but in George’s world, every action was either obedience or defiance – and defiance, no matter how minor, demanded retribution

“So…, you cling to your mother do you” George moved forwards, his sinister, unsettling smile curving his lips “A pity; some attachments must be severed for the good of the whole; come here child, your mother’s company spoils you”

It was when George’s hand extended outwards towards Lydia that caused a sudden jolting shift – Cathryn felt a need to act; it wasn’t just memories of her own pain, the abuse, the relentless ‘re-education’ she had endured for so long, it was the very sight of ‘his’ hand reaching out for ‘her’ daughter, a red haze seemed to descend, it eclipsed the years of abuse and the broken spirit; the ingrained fear – he wasn’t only targeting her, he was now targeting Lydia.

That long dormant instinct ignited – there was no gracefulness in her next movement, everything she did was as a result of pure, desperate maternal fury, regardless of how frail and worn, regardless of the potential consequences – she acted.

With a sudden movement, Cathryn flew her arm out to knock George’s away, but she didn’t leave room for him to register as she reacted on muscle memory; George had not expected anything more than Cathryn’s cowering submission, and now – he was thrown entirely off guard.

Her hand was surprising swift – lashing out, grabbing the nearest tool in reach – a small metal spoon, she rotated it around – she used its pointed handle-grip as she struck two vital pressure points along his broad forearm with a surgical precision.

A jolt of pain; sharp and unexpected made him flinch, before he could even react; Cathryn moved her hands backwards against the counter before lifting her right leg upwards and forcefully thrusting her leg out; her foot connecting against George squarely on the chest, the movement caused Lydia to bump gently against the back of her mother as she supported herself with the counter – the kick though, while it did not knock George off his feet, it did create vital space by forcing George to stumble backwards a full foot.

Within that moment, Cathryn span around and dropped down to Lydia embracing her in a protective embrace – her heart hammering against her chest, a frantic drum that Lydia could hear, she buried her face into Lydia’s hair her body trembling, she knew exactly what would come next – or…, she believed she knew.

George though stood with a shocked expression, the pain in his arm still tingling, while the kick had been weak, let down by her lack of reinforced training over the years, it still provided a subtle ache that George noticed and had not been prepared for, his icy-blue eyes, usually so composed, widened fractionally, a flicker of surprise, then something colder, almost a clinical curiosity that replaced it – he had not expected this; he believed Cathryn to have been broken, he instead found a trigger.

From the doorway; Elizabeth had been watching the scene unfold in silence – she had never witnessed such a display before, she had only ever seen her mother as some quiet suffering figure, sometimes she felt something akin to pity, but she valued the strength of her father over the maternal care of her mother; but this display…, that had just shown something she couldn’t quite describe – it was like witnessing a new facet of power, a different kind of lesson.

The pause in that kitchen seemed to stretch; pregnant with menace; the air tense, George for the first time was unsure how to respond; Cathryn slowly moved her head, her eyes drifting back to George, she was clearly confused why he had not made a move – recomposing himself, George silently left the kitchen, passing Elizabeth without a word.

Cathryn’s eyes landed onto Elizabeth and she gestured for her to come over, Elizabeth narrowed her eyes briefly but did go over, letting her mother pull her into that same embrace, she was just as unsure on how to react as George had been..

Chapter 5:

Returning to his study George discovered the loyal butler; Jacob had prepared the fireplace, moving to sit in front of that roaring fire, George’s finger kneaded his forearm, a slight grimace momentarily twisting his lips – he still felt the phantom sensation, a dull throb where Cathryn had struck – the action had shocked him, yes, but…, it also fascinated him .

Five-Years of brutal ‘Re-Education’ – a systematic destruction of who she was, he had been doing this since she first came to his Estate, he had been playing a long-game, and so far, he believed he had accomplished that end-goal – Breaking Her entirely, he hadn’t, he had in fact found a trigger; Lydia.

His eyes narrowed in contemplation of his next course of action – He could exile Anne, that was easy – it left Cathryn without support, he originally believed Peggy’s presence would create jealousy, though that failed; when it came to Elizabeth, she gravitated towards him, towards his power – but Lydia, Lydia was different.
Taking in a deep breath he thought carefully, despite his attempts to limit her exposure to Cathryn, Lydia still gravitated to her mother, he confused him, of all his efforts to break Cathryn this new turn-of-events displayed his error, though it also revealed Cathryn’s true Achilles’ heel and that was Lydia.

A slow, chilling smirk unfurled across his face revealing the predator neath the aristocratic façade – the pain in his arm was a mild inconveniences, a mere result of a very important revelation; a conclusion solidified in his mind, cold and precise – what would follow would be a descent into extreme reprisal.

The customary ‘Re-Education’ resumed once again that same day – Cathryn faced a severe punishment that night that left her screaming through the late hours, and that became the start of the descent, things became more ritualistic and less-restrained; brutality increased, it didn’t matter if Lydia was present or not, confinements would grow longer new methods would be invented they became more depraved and sadistic that left Cathryn teetering on the edge as she screamed her throat raw, it would progress from three days of ‘Re-Education’ through the week to every day.

It would drag on for months, and he still had something far worse planned; he was intending to test the results of this increased brutality – Lydia would become the target, not directly harming her, but it made it clear she was also within his focus deliberately putting Cathryn into a constant and heightened state of panic.

During Cultist gatherings within the Estate, usually between his personally selected lieutenants  he presented William along with both Lydia and Elizabeth during the gatherings, Cathryn, while she was present found herself in the usual activity of serving the meals, though she could see George’s actions – a hand that would linger to long on Lydia’s hair when his eyes locked towards Cathryn with a dark smirk.

That though was only the beginning – each time George had opportunity, he took it, each act he took was a casual escalation, each time he observed Cathryn’s desperate desire to react; the trembling in her hands, the way her breath would hitch in her throat.

By October; after the sadistic and depraved escalation – the day had finally come to put that effort to the test.

In the kitchen, Cathryn struggled – she was exhausted, her body ached, but she tried desperately to push, Lydia had once again taken that usual spot directly in front of Cathryn; while she was going about her duties, Cathryn felt more at ease with Lydia being in her presence, and within that moment of normalcy – George entered the kitchen.

Chapter 6:

A aroma of roasting meat and simmering herbs created a deceptive veneer of domesticity while Cathryn tended to her usual duties; she felt Lydia’s small hands grip on the apron causing her to glance downwards a moment – Lydia looked upwards at her, a gentle smile curving her lips, though things shifted once George made his presence known.

It was almost like a repeat of January 20th – only, this was devised unlike the last time, seeing Lydia once again close to her Mother; George moved with aggressive intent “Move!” he snapped at Cathryn, his tone causing her to flinch, but her arms immediately moved to hold Lydia close against her as George loomed over them “I tell you again” he said, his tone threatening

Lydia could feel her mother’s body tremble as she remained close.

George’s hand moved upwards, grasping Cathryn by her throat and pushing her back, forcing her to bend at the waist against the counter; the scene that unfolded was clearly observed by Peggy from the backroom, with Jacob and Elizabeth also witnessing.

Sensing how dangerous this was for her mother, Lydia tried to ease things, despite not wanting to leave her mother she let go “Papa; let go…” she said; her voice a delicate whisper, it was enough to draw his attention, his eyes shifted back to Cathryn, he could see the tears welling, though it was clear she was desperately trying to maintain her composure, he simply grinned at her before yanking Lydia by the arm, he purposely applied a subtle twist causing her to respond with a painful yelp.

It had the desired effect; Cathryn moved “No!” the word was a raw gasp that tore out from her throat as she moved forwards , her arms outstretched as she made a pathetic lunge for him to try getting him away from Lydia – it became a futile gesture and exactly what George was waiting for.

He pushed Lydia aside as he span around to intercept Cathryn with a chilling precision – his hand shot out, seizing her wrist, twisting sharply causing Cathryn to cry out – just like she would in her bedroom, there was now a scream of agony and terror, within one fluid motion George – a man with considerable and monstrous strength hidden beneath the aristocratic finery, overpowered Cathryn with ease, the movement was fast and painful that twisted Cathryn entirely off balance before he effectively just tossed her across the room almost like a rag-doll.

Everything just seemed to slow down in that moment – Peggy, watching felt her face drain of colour as Cathryn crashed into the side of the table, the impact shattering the legs beneath it causing it to collapse alongside Cathryn – the contents, an array of knives, cleavers and other sharp utensils slid down with Cathryn, a dangerous cascade of metal as Cathryn landed with a hard thud; she was a tangle of limps and raven-hair which had fallen completely loose from its tied position.

The sharp objects landed around her, some striking her and cutting into her skin causing immediate gashes and cuts across her – she lay sprawled on the floor staring, struggling to breath, her eyes shifting to George, she didn’t dare try to move, this escalation sent a clear message for her; she was terrified.

Peggy went rushing over; shoving past George “Out of the way!” she snarled, her knee’s hitting the floor beside the broken woman.

Lydia was left stunned; horrified by what she just watched happen, Elizabeth too felt a sudden shift in that moment, she wanted to know that her mother was okay, slowly; Elizabeth approached, joining Lydia beside their mother.

George though; he simply grinned at the devastation he had wrought, straightening his impeccably tailored jacket, he shifted his posture and slowly; almost casually as though nothing had happened, walked from the kitchen simply stating ‘Get back to work; we have guests later”

One observer; a member of George’s serving staff, a young woman named; Julia shrunk away unseen, unlike Cathryn or Peggy, or even other staff like Jacob; Julia tended to move with relative ease, entirely unnoticed by those she would with, and even if she was questioned, she would often have an excuse ready to cover her tracks.

Chapter 7:

The journey from the brutal spectacle of the kitchen back to Cathryn’s bedroom was a torturous ordeal. Peggy had immediately called for her son, and with support with Jacob, Cathryn was brought to her room a place devoid of warmth or personal touches Jacob would retreat, Peggy shifted her attention to her son “Tend to your siblings” she told him “A story perhaps…, give us a little privacy so I can tend to Cathryn”

William nodded his head slowly, his movements initially hesitant but, he did as requested; taking the hands of both girls he indicated with a head movement “Come” he murmured with a soft voice

As William took Elizabeth and Lydia to the far corner of the room their quiet conversation created a fragile illusion of normalcy, a barrier against what had just happened.

Cathryn; she looked at Peggy with a desperate, pleading expression, tears fell “Peggy” she rasped “”What do I do…, what can I do…, I can’t take much more of this, it getting worse, and now he’s trying to hurt my girls” her voice was a whisper broken by her sobs as her body trembled uncontrollably

Peggy shifted, moving her hands she gently cupped Cathryn’s face softly, her grip warm and reassuring “Hush now Cathryn; little darlin’ hush” she said; her Irish lilt was a soothing balm “I’ll devise something…, I am not sure what, but I will; I will get that bastard away from the Estate,,, even if it’s just for awhile to give you breathing room love” Peggy’s thumb gently stroked Cathryn’s cheek, wiping away tears though smearing a streak of blood on her face

Cathryn slowly nodded, the gesture was imperceptible – it was a fragile surrender to Peggy’s promise even if it would only be a temporary reprieve, the raw edge of terror would linger but it offered a sliver of hope however thin “Please” Cathryn whispered a single word; a profound act of trust

Peggy nodded; her expression determined “Aye darlin’, now, let us get these rags of ye and see to them cuts shall we; I can’t have you bleedin’ out on me” Peggy would begin the careful process of undressing Cathryn, her movements were gentle, her touch surprising tender each layer of blood-stained fabric peeled away; though the true depth of exactly what Cathryn’s clothes hid beneath them was slowly revealed – there were more marks, bruising and scars that Peggy even realised, it left her horrified – there was a quiet rustle of cloth and soft clink of Peggy’s makeshift medical kit along with hushed whispers from the corner of the room where William distracted the girls.

Kingston Upon Hull, East Yorkshire

In the north; Jesse had left the safehouse in Whitechapel under the control of one of his more loyal allies while he intended to seek help; with him was Anne Smythe – Anne pulled her shawl tighter around her small frame, her usual composure as of late was one of constant urgency, her awareness of Cathryn’s struggle did not make things easy and in her desperation to get Cathryn out, she had found allies in the remnants of the British ‘Hunters’ a path she had found herself on after searching out the German variant of that disorganised group, initially she had sought help from the German ‘Hunters’ but they were busy with their own problems, but revealed to Anne Jesse’s small group – now, she was seeking out a potential new ally.

Her eyes landed on the old shop sign above the door, she had a look of confusion that furrowed her brow as – the wording was not English; it was from the far east ‘Japanese’ – her eyes shifted to Jesse, he sensed her confusion but simply gestured for her to follow.

The shop which was deceptively quaint outside opened into a curious blend of Eastern and Western cultures; a blend of two worlds, dark polished wood met with a muted glow of paper screens and the scent of exotic spices mingled with the earthy aroma of local herbs.

Chapter 8:

Behind the counter was Grace Morgan – a woman of Fifty-One years, she had a face etched with quiet resilience, her attention perked up from her book due to the sound of a bell chiming above the door; her British features softened into a polite but wary smile “Hello, how may I help you?” she said, her voice calm with a slight drawl that lingered from her years in Japan

“I am here to find a man by the name of Heijirō; I sent a telegram a few days ago to try arranging a meeting, my name is Jesse” Jesse slowly withdrew his hand from with the confines of his jacket, placing down on the counter in front of Grace a rather ornate looking egg shell, an intricate Celtic design present – it was something Grace recognised immediately

“Your…, a ’Hunter’…” Grace said softly, her attention shifting a moment hearing a movement; from the back, a figure emerged, he moved with a fluid grace that defied the very air; Heijirō, he came out dressed in simple but rather traditional Japanese attire, Anne, unlike either Jesse or even the locals that were use to seeing such a foreign style of dress looked at him with a curiosity before her eyes drifted to the Katana that had missed her initial glance about – it was positioned above the doorway that Heijirō had just come through along with a shorter weapon; a Kodachi.

Heijirō eyes were dark and piercing as he looked towards Jesse and Anne; it was obvious he held a wisdom from a long and tumultuous life as a ‘Hunter’ from Japan “Heijirō” Hesse rumbled as a greeting; his voice gravelly “We need to speak; urgently”

Heijirō gestured “Come…, tea shall be ready shortly” he said simply; his eyes then drifting towards Grace as he offered a smile “Are you going to join us Watashi no ai” Grace merely smiled before moving to accompany them into the back

As they settled onto the cushions; Jesse’s gaze drifted past Grace, noticing something or rather someone; a young lad clearly within his twenties had silently entered the room, he stood by a intricately carved screen observing them with an unsettling stillness; Astor – their son, there was something about him, not just his quiet presence, but a peculiar resonance, a depth in his eyes that seemed to hold too much; Jesse, accustomed to deciphering threats and hidden intentions found himself momentarily disarmed by the sheer mystery radiating from the youth – it wasn’t hostility, but it wasn’t welcome either, it made the hairs on the back of Jesse’s neck prickle.

Grace, noticing Jesse’s diverted attention offered a small, knowing smile “That is Astor; he helps us with…., inventory”

Jesse slowly nodded; but once Heijirō poured the tea, using a rather traditional Japanese method, discussions would soon follow – they fixed onto Cathryn and her plight, Heijirō, Grace and even Astor would listen to what Anne described the desperation in her voice while Jesse made the requests for their help.

The Smythe Estate, Along the River Thames

Later into that evening after Peggy had finished cleaning and bandaging Cathryn’s injuries and helped her redress – it had been an agonising process with the additional difficulties of getting her into fresh cool sheets of her bed.

As she laid there, the silence was shattered as her attention drifted over to the door – William had brought Lydia back to the room – Lydia, unlike Elizabeth craved to return to Cathryn, she needed to know her mother was okay, Elizabeth’s absence did not go unnoticed though and it did sting Cathryn quiet strongly, William guided Lydia over to the side of the bed, offering a small awkward smile before he left the room.

Lydia; she climbed up onto the bed, her movements exquisitely gentle, her small body instinctively aware of her mother’s pain, she laid as close as possible without jostling Cathryn’s bandaged limps – her head resting on her mothers uninjured shoulder, she could smell the scent of antiseptic blending with the familiar lavender scent that Cathryn usually carried.

Cathryn, despite the protesting of her muscles, gently moved her arm, her fingers threading softly through Lydia’s soft silken hair; she stroked slowly, rhythmic in motion, her eyes fixed on the small vulnerable face nestled beside her – the weight of Lydia’s presence; warm and alive, a potent antidote to the cold dread that permeated her very bones.

The two would begin to talk; not about George, not the terror of what had happened, but mundane topic’s – the shapes of the clouds, a particularly stubborn stain on a dress, Lydia even makes mention of a strange riddle William made mention of; their voices a gentle whisper in the growing darkness, a fragile shield against the realities of the Smythe Estate, a desperate attempt to create a small private world where a mother could simply hold her daughter and in that fleeting moment they could forget about the monsters lurking outside that bedroom door.

Observing though unseen at the corner of the room stood a woman of an otherworldly origin; her violet eyes ancient and knowing, her dark hair long and cascading down below her waist; a gentle smile curved her lips before she seemed to dissipate.

Written By: Westley H.

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2 responses to “The Dark Legacy of Cathryn: A Tale of Survival”

  1. The Cathryn Chronicles: Hunters and Shadows – W.D.L Diamond

    […] C.F.T.S / Cathryn’s Chronicles: The Pain of Servitude – The Dark Legacy of Cathryn: A Tale of Survival […]

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  2. Victorian Secrets: Cathryn’s Fight Against the Dark Imperium – W.D.L Diamond

    […] C.F.T.S / Cathryn’s Chronicles: The Pain of Servitude – The Dark Legacy of Cathryn: A Tale of Survival […]

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