you want it darker | michael langdon

chapter three; fire in the brain

After talking to Julien and spending most of the day wandering level eight, Primrose retreated to her private quarters on level nine, exhausted and weary from the tireless squabbling of the rich. After enduring their prattle for so long, all Prim wanted was a good night's sleep to refresh and revive her, but alas; such things are easier said than done.

Dressed in her usual thin, white nightgown, Prim retired for the evening into the soft comforting blankets of her four-poster bed. At the other end of her room, the fire was crackling quietly, only a few faint embers still burning in its grate.

Bathed in the warm glow of the fire, the heat it was emanating soothing on her skin, Primrose soon found herself drifting off to sleep.

-

There was a small girl, she did not look any older than five, clinging to her mother's side. The woman was dressed all in black, her blonde hair shining in the midday sun. With her beauty and her grace, she looked as though she were of royal blood.

She was leading a pack of women, all adorned in the same color as her, and they too carried themselves with confidence and power; all of them bar one.

A woman with mousy brown hair and bloodshot eyes lagged behind the rest of the group, looking as though she was barely holding back tears.

Two albino men in smart, black suits carried cans of gasoline and set them beside a large wooden stake. The little girl's eyes widened as she took in the appearance of the man that was tied to it.

"Please don't do this!" The man cried. "I-i can take you to the body, maybe you can still bring her back."

The tears were now falling freely from the brown-haired woman's face as she shook her head sadly.

"Please, Zoe. I love you."

Watching the blonde haired man, who was so desperately bargaining for his life, the little girl did not want to watch, but could not tear her eyes away either.

"Enough!" The blonde woman declared.

"You have been charged with the murder of one of our sisters, Madison Montgomery, one of the very women you swore to protect as a defender and servant of this coven."

"I was trying to protect the coven! She refused to bring Zoe back!" He countered.

"Your crimes are inexcusable. I hereby sentence you to death by fire."

The man began to cry as the woman, Zoe, procured a box of matches from her pocket. The suited men poured gasoline all over his skin and clothing. The little girl wrinkled her nose at the smell.

"I'm so sorry, Kyle." Zoe sobbed, striking the match.

-

Primrose lurched forward in her bed; her skin was burning and her ears were ringing from screaming she did not yet register as her own.

The fear coursing through her body intensified when she saw that the fire was still burning in the fireplace, taunting her.

She clenched the bed sheets within her fists and watched as it suddenly erupted into a towering inferno.

-

The next morning, Primrose sat upon the blush bedding in her room, biting her nails nervously. Ms. Mead had just come in to wake her as usual and was pottering around getting things ready for her, doing her duties.

Primrose stopped to wonder why Ms. Mead specifically was in her life. The woman had practically raised her, but for what reason? Though she didn't know much of Mead's history, she couldn't picture her doing this for someone else, some other child.

And she was a robot, which was hardly common. Who built her, and why?

Primrose found that she was filled with questions, but in asking them she never received her answers. Only more and more uncertainties.

But this morning she was determined to get what she wanted this time.

"Ms. Mead?" She asked, her voice quiet and cautious.

"Mmmhmm?" Mead barely acknowledged her as she laid out Prim's clothes for her on the table.

"I need your help with something."

Ms. Mead turned to look at her; now that had got her attention.

"My help? With what, child?"

Primrose twiddled her thumbs, anxiously. "I've been having these dreams..."

"Yes?" She prompted.

"Yes," Prim continued. "And... and they feel really real. Like, really really real."

Ms. Mead sat down at the end of the young girl's bed to listen.

"Like they might've happened before." Primrose spoke so quietly, her voice was almost a whisper.

"I'm sorry to hear that, girl." She sighed. "But I'm not entirely sure what you would like me to do about it."

"It's not just the dreams though, Ms. Mead. Last night, after one of my nightmares, I was filled with so much fright that the fireplace erupted with flames and smoke. It was as though I had stoked the fire with my mind!" Primrose exclaimed.

"And I know you must think me mad, but it's happened more than once. Strange things, things I cannot explain, they always seem to follow me. And... and I need to do something about it before I lose my mind."

Primrose watched Ms. Mead's reaction carefully. She could reject her ideas, humiliate her, send her away to be examined, or worse, simply ignore her.

Ms. Mead's head fell to her hands with resignation. "I thought this day might come."

That had certainly caught Prim off guard; did Ms. Mead know about these strange occurrences all along?

"It's gonna be okay," She assured her with a steady smile, turning to leave. "I... I'm going to send for a man, he will help you."

"No!" Primrose cried out. "I'm not mad, I promise!"

"Quit your yelling!" Ms. Mead chided her. "I'm not sending for a psychiatrist."

Primrose narrowed her eyes at the older woman. "Then who?"

"There's a man..." Ms. Mead explained, evasively. "He's like you."

"And he can help you."