The Ninth Door

Chapter 11-Sienna

Annette

It was time to reach out to my former self – Sienna Kelley. My family and my therapist wanted me to completely abandon this identity.

“Can I go back to being Sienna?” I asked when I was only ten. At that time, the memories were still strong, causing nightmares and little breakdowns. It was a wonder that I was still doing well at school despite the trauma and the bullying.

“Y-yes, you may when you’re ready,” Dr. Rhodes said.

But a decade passed and even more, and I still didn’t – couldn’t - find myself ready. Annette became a blanket of reassurance. Annie became a normal child, who eventually became accepted. Loved. But I needed to face who I was to open the second door.

“You need to save your mother,” I whispered to myself. Of course, I wasn’t quite as insane as other people thought I was. I knew that my mother was dead. Raped. Murdered.

I knew that I should ask Emmerich about what I was really getting. Would it still be possible to get my mother back, flesh and blood? Or was this just a journey toward revenge, and eventually peace? Would peace even be lurking in the shadows after revenge had been exacted? I trembled at the thought.

Peace certainly didn’t reign in my mind. My heart would constantly pound even at quiet times alone in the library where I knew I was safe. I was never going to be safe from my mind.

Emmerich and I rode our horses back to the Junction. Here in this forest, dusk seemed to fall too quickly. It was only almost four in the afternoon, but twilight seemed to be falling. Then, I felt the first drops of rain and realized why. I giggled nervously. When I saw how unaffected Emmerich was, I felt a slice of shame. He must think me a silly girl. A knight and a prince, he certainly knew how to joke around, but he was more serious most of the times. I couldn’t blame him. He had been handed a responsibility that wasn’t his, just because I asked for help all those years ago.

“We must go now,” he said. “My stallion is now rigid. I think it wouldn’t want to move if the temperatures decrease even more.”

“Yeah. Let’s go,” I said, pressing my mare with my legs to urge her on. We should go before the path became slippery.

We cantered back to the Junction, even as my clothes clung to me from the rain. I couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a punishment for trying to jog my memory of days when my mother and two stable hands guided me on my little pony.

Riding the mare, Awana, was like going back to the time when I was happier. It was a way of bringing back my mother to life even for a few minutes. During the little exploration of forest and memory, I couldn’t help but see that Emmerich was having his own journey in his head.

“Did the ride help you?” he asked, as we dismounted the horses. The stable hands were ready to take the reins from us, both half-running to the stables to secure the stallion and the mare.

“I guess it had,” I admitted. “I felt happy. I hadn’t felt like that in years.”

I couldn’t tell him that I hadn’t had good sleep in a long time, either, until he came along. My growing dependence was shameful in itself. A burden. Of course, he would want to leave as soon as the nine doors were open. He wanted me to get to opening the second door as soon as possible.

“It helped me, too,” he said. His voice had turned husky, and his gaze had a different kind of heat. It was then that I realized that my my white blouse had become see-through from the rain. The bra I was wearing could clearly be seen with its frilly lace. I pulled at the fabric, away from my damp skin. When I looked back at Emmerich, his head was bowed in embarrassment.

“How did it help you?” I asked, eager to distract him.

“It reminded me of my purpose.”

“Your purpose?”

“My little missions in life,” he clarified, now grinning, but his eyes seemed to be looking into something else. Then, his grin faded as he pondered something quietly in his head. “To avenge you and your mother, and to rescue Lady Mary from my brother before I kill him with my bare hands.”

I startled. I didn’t realize that he was that angry at his brother. Pure hatred gleamed in his eyes.

“Lady Mary’s the one you wanted to marry. Isn’t she?” My throat was suddenly raw. Yes, he would want to open the nine doors as quickly as we could. He had someone waiting for him. As for me, cold revenge waited. I wasn’t even sure if what I was getting was a mother come back to life, or something else. If horror novels and movies were to be believed, reanimating the dead would never result in any good.

“Yes, if my brother hasn’t married her yet. My mother likes her for me, but my brother Luther probably twisted everything with his lies. So, she may want Mary for him, instead.”

“D-do you love her?” My teeth were chattering now, and I hugged myself as Mrs. Winters opened the door to welcome us. It was only then that I became aware that we were talking while walking. I rarely did that.

“I’m not sure, Sienna,” he admitted. “But I certainly want to save her.”

He wanted to save me, too, from my sullied mind. From the depths of my despair. But I was a stranger to him, someone who had pulled him away from what he should be doing. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d eventually feel bitter about being here. I needed to find myself soon enough. I bit my lower lip to keep myself from crying. Weak. That was what I was. A brave, powerful man wouldn’t want anything to do with me.

“How did the horseback ride remind you of Mary?” I asked. I was pretty sure that was what he implied.

“She loves horses. She’s a wonderful rider,” he said, with a small smile.

“Do you ride with her chaperones? Isn’t that what the noble women have in your world?”

“No. She always sneaks out.” He looked a little flustered, a tinge of red on his cheeks. What they had was even more than I imagined. He wasn’t sure that he loved her, but I would bet my life that she loved him – enough to risk her reputation for him.

The present tense wasn’t lost on me, either.

**

After dinner, I took out the books from my luggage. I laid them on the bed I was sharing with Emmerich. I focused on the beautiful leather because the alternative was to look at my companion’s freshly-shaven, handsome face. He was wearing a white T-shirt and athletic shorts. It was cold, but he seemed comfortable. I had read that leopards were the most well-adapted cats. Leopards had been known to live in deserts. Then, there were snow leopards, too. I wondered what it was like for him, and what it would be like for me when I finally found my cat self.

“Lilith. Estella,” I murmured, tracing the golden letters with my fingertips. Were they always gold? Why did I think they could have been red?

“Do you know who they are?” Emmerich asked, leaning toward me. Our heads were almost touching and I could smell him. I almost chuckled when remembering how he frowned at the smell of his deodorant. It was Silas’s own. Emmerich didn’t seem convinced at first that what he had was made for men.

“Did you not use anything to mask your odor?” I asked him then.

“I used some cotton and cloth pads to absorb sweat,” he admitted sheepishly. “I bathed more than what was regular in our timeline because I had access to water. The peasants didn’t.”

I couldn’t imagine living in his world, and yet, I couldn’t imagine not seeing him again after all this. The realization came so suddenly, unfiltered during a time of vulnerability. My fingers tingled over the golden letters.

“I don’t know them, Emmerich. I’m going to open the books now,” I said, not really understanding how these books could matter to my identity.

Emmerich shifted to my side so that he could read the words on the pages. As a prince, he was undoubtedly an educated man. The text was in plain English, and I wondered if it had always been the case.

“It’s not a journal” he said.

I understood why he would have thought it was. With a woman’s name on the cover, Lilith’s story was promising to be someone’s journal. The words were handwritten. The text was neat, loops evenly rising and falling. It looked almost like one of the computer fonts made to look like penmanship these days, but there were blots on some pages and faded parts that made me worry about it crumbling before my eyes.

“It isn’t. Look. It says “Kelley.” No, it’s not Lilith. It’s the man who took her from the asylum. His surname is Kelley.”

“This book may be about an ancestor of yours.”

“So, it wasn’t a coincidence the books fell when I was getting ready to leave the library for the day?”

“Of course not. You’re Sienna Kelley. Nothing coincidental happens to a woman like you.”

What could he mean by that? I was afraid to ask him, but I was also excited to find out more about this Sebastian Kelley. I never knew my father, but I had a chance to find out who my ancestors were.

“Early twentieth century. 1920s,” I murmured, belying the thundering in my chest. Maybe by finding out who Sebastian and Lilith were, I could also resurrect Sienna.

“Emmerich?”

“Yes?”

“What if Sienna – the happy one – can never be found?”

“Your identity doesn’t rely on your emotions, Sienna. We are humans and we feel everything. Nobody’s always happy. Nobody’s always sad,” he said, his warm hand on mine. When his thumb rubbed the fingers splayed on the page, I shivered.

“What if they do?” My voice came out too throaty, making me want to die in embarrassment. My family was right. I should go out more. Because I wasn’t use to a handsome man’s – any man’s for that matter – attention, I was swooning.

“We’ll find out together.”

We read more of Lilith’s story. I didn’t want to stop until I found out that she was nothing but a story in a book that Sebastian had claimed.

“She became a real girl,” I said, thinking of Pinocchio, a story I didn’t expect Emmerich to know.

“Yes, she did,” he murmured, glancing at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

Then, it dawned on me. The leopard prince was from a book I had as a child. I called to him.

“You’re real, Emmerich,” I whispered. “Of course, you are.”

I was not just trying to convince him. I was trying to convince myself. He had already inched away from me, leaving my hand cold without his warm hand. I tried not to pinch myself to check if I was dreaming. I was just like my ancestor, Sebastian Kelley, who made a real person out of a character. The only difference was that they fell in love and married here in the Junction. He chose her even when he was still a boy.

“I am,” Emmerich finally responded after what seemed like a couple of minutes of internal battle. “I’m real. If you can make a page come alive. Then, you can resuscitate the old Sienna. You are Sienna.”

“Of course I am.” I sobbed.

I didn’t think knight princes were supposed to hug women who were not their wives but Emmerich did. He let me cry, his warm palm rubbing my back. I was grateful for the sensations. His warmth. His voice. My tears. Of course, this was all real.

“It is,” a voice said.