Fane listened again and then apparently decided it was safe enough. He pulled the door open and led Rapunzel from the log room. They crept down the hallway, stopping to look around the corner. Rapunzel’s heart beat so loudly she was sure that Cook—she assumed it was Cook that was in the house—would surely hear it. They made it to the first set of stairs and went up. Just as their feet touched the top step, they heard a voice. Fane quickly dropped to his belly and down a few stairs, pulling Rapunzel with him.
They quietly crawled back down a few more steps and then froze as Cook came into view. It was the first time Rapunzel had ever seen the woman who’d been providing food for what she assumed was her whole life. She was younger than expected, looking to be somewhere around her mother’s age. She was average looking—brown hair, average height, and thinner than Rapunzel would have expected a cook to be.
Cook was talking on her phone, pacing back and forth. After a few minutes, she disappeared down one of the hallways, still talking on her phone, having never glanced their way. Sweat beaded on the back of Rapunzel’s neck at the fear of being caught. As soon as Cook disappeared, Fane took her hand, and they quickly ran up the stairs and then in the opposite direction. As quietly as possible, they hurried into her room.
“Whew,” Fane said, leaning against the closed door. “That was close.”
“How are you going to get out of here?” Rapunzel asked worriedly.
“I’ll just have to be extra sneaky,” Fane said. Then he patted his belly, rustling the papers, “Should we have a look?”
They moved to the counter, and Fane set the papers on its surface. They decided to split the pile in half and just start going through them one by one. Rapunzel began reading the top paper in her stack.
September 5: I am going hiking with Nigel tomorrow on another one of his stupid trips. I don’t know why he thinks that I enjoy doing these things with him. I would much rather stay home and continue to try and commune with my lost baby. I don’t talk to him about that anymore because each time I do he begins talking about my needing therapy. I DON’T NEED THERAPY! Why can’t he understand that? How can he be her true father if he refuses to acknowledge her existence? I’m beginning to wonder if he wasn’t her father. Maybe she was a gift to me from the spirits. I will have to find someone to talk to about that. Meantime, I’ll join Nigel on his stupid hike. Wouldn’t it be a shame if an accident were to happen and he didn’t come home with me? ~ BHG
Rapunzel’s head reeled. It seemed obvious that her mother wrote the pages. Why loose papers and not a journal or diary or something, she wondered. She knew about the baby, of course, from the news articles, but in all these years her mother had never spoken to her about the baby. She also couldn’t get that last sentence out of her head. She remembered the speculation in the articles that her father’s death had not been an accident. With some dread, she turned to the next page.
September 16: I was forced to withstand the affected sympathy of all the neighbors and other curiosity seekers at Nigel’s funeral. I know that they were all just here to look at the house and to try and ingratiate themselves with me, perhaps hoping to get some of my money. I earned this money. It’s mine. I paid for it with the blood of my daughter. I could hardly stand to play the part of the grieving widow when all I wanted to do was dance with joy that my scheme has worked. I am now free to do what is necessary to get my beautiful baby daughter back. ~ BHG
Rapunzel quickly flipped to the next page.
July 17: Good news, today I found Vedmak. He is genuine, not like all of the frauds who have come before. He knew all about my baby girl and how important it was to me to have her in my life again. He told me that I will have a golden-haired daughter who will be my savior. I am not sure how I will have another baby as I do not plan to be with another man again. However, if what I suspect about my baby girl is true, then I don’t need a man anyway. I expect that I will soon be pregnant. ~ BHG
November 3: I have not yet conceived, though Vedmak assures me that I will have a daughter, that I must be patient. He has told me more about the prophecy, that not only will my daughter be my savior, but will be the tool to return my first daughter to me. At first, I thought maybe he was just saying these things to try and get more money from me. But he spoke with such earnestness that I now believe he is telling me the truth, and he has not taken any further money, which proves he only has my interests at heart. I will try to be patient, though my anxiousness to be reunited with my daughter supersedes almost all else in my life. ~ BHG
February 25: It is very late but I could not wait until tomorrow to write of what Vedmak has told me. He said that the reason I have not yet been reunited with my daughter is because there is something I must do first. He said the spirits are unhappy with how stagnant my life has become. He said they would be happy if I began construction on my house and that as long as I continue to build and expand the manor, they will remain pleased with me and will provide for my reunion with my precious, golden-haired daughter. It’s required, though, that I oversee the work, according to Vedmak. I have spoken to a man who owns a construction company. He will come next week to begin work. I can feel how close I am to having my dreams fulfilled. ~ BHG
June 6: I SAW HER TODAY! My beautiful, golden-haired daughter. I now realize why I have not conceived. It is because I was meant to find her and today I found her. I was in the grocery store, a place I never go. I have others who shop for me, but today I felt compelled to go myself. Clearly, the spirits were trying to show me the way and it was there that I saw her. She is exactly as Vedmak described her. She has long, golden hair in spite of her young age. She looked right at me and I immediately knew that I had found the vessel that will bring my own baby back to me. I do not think it is a coincidence that today is the sixth day of the sixth month and that she is six months old. As soon as I realized I had found her I looked down to see that I had six apples in my basket. My own baby girl would have turned six on this very day. Clearly six is the number that my daughter is trying to show me. It must be connected somehow to her return. I understand and I will heed what she says. Six has always been related to the discipline that came from my mother, a number I related to pain. I can see now that she was only preparing me for this. Six will be the number that I will live my life by from here on. I must now plan. I must be diligent and cautious in order to bring my baby girl home. Tomorrow, I will speak with Vedmak and I am sure that the spirits will guide me in my endeavors.
Horror ran through Rapunzel. She looked up at the basket of six apples that sat on her countertop. With a rage born of realization she swept the basket of apples from her counter violently to the floor. Fane immediately reached out to touch her arm.
“Rapunzel? Are you okay?”
She looked at Fane but couldn’t speak past the revulsion choking her. She could only pick up the paper and thrust it at Fane. He read through it, his expression mirroring her own.
“Do you think this is you she’s talking about?” Fane asked. “It couldn’t be, right? I mean that would mean . . . that’s not possible. That would mean that she—”
Rapunzel spun away from him. She felt sick. It wasn’t bad enough that her entire life was a lie and that her mother had possibly killed her father but now maybe her mother wasn’t even her mother. Then . . . who was?
Fane came behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She turned and clung to him. She buried her face against his chest, squeezing her eyes shut, wanting to erase from her mind the words she just read. Fane led her to the couch and sat, pulling her next to him and holding her tightly. After some time, he spoke.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea what to do with this information. She’ll be home tomorrow. Should I show her what I found?”
“I wouldn’t just yet,” Fane said. “Let’s make sure that we have all of the information before we confront her.”
Rapunzel looked up at him. “We?” she echoed.
“Y
es,” he said. “That is, if you want me to be here with you.”
Rapunzel laid her head against his chest again and nodded.
“It’s late. I better go,” Fane said reluctantly.
Rapunzel sighed. “I know.” She sat up and looked at him. “I’ll go through all the papers, kind of put them in order, and read them all.”
“How are you going to keep her from seeing them?”
She shrugged. “I’ll hide them under my mattress, I guess. She only comes into my room to brush my hair so it should be safe enough.” She looked at him. “Will you come back in a few days and help me decide what to do about all of this?”
“Of course,” he answered with no hesitation. “Try not to stress about it too much until then, okay?”
She nodded, knowing that was going to be a difficult task. But it lifted the burden somewhat from Rapunzel knowing that Fane would be there for her and would help her decide what the best course of action was.
Fane decided to brave the trellis rather than risk being caught. Rapunzel tried to talk him out of it, but he felt like it would be safe enough—with her help.
He held to the end of her hair as he climbed out and took the first tentative step on the trellis. It began to sag away from the wall and Rapunzel quickly pulled her hair tight, reeling him back in with a squeak. He smiled at her though she could see the panic and relief mingled on his face. Holding tightly to her hair, he slowly made his way down. Once he reached the end of her hair, the trellis seemed to be solidly connected. Before releasing her hair, he pulled it to his mouth and pressed his lips against it. Rapunzel could swear she felt the kiss up through the strands to her scalp. He released her hair, and she pulled it back into the tower.
chapter
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32
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Rapunzel was a baby. She lay in her crib batting at the mobile that swung above her head. A woman came into view but it was not her mother and yet this woman was more familiar than her mother, somehow. She had the same golden hair as Rapunzel and kind eyes. She reached down to pick up Rapunzel, but before she could reach her the crib melted away and Rapunzel sat in the black room surrounded by sixes.
There were six people in black hoods chanting, and Rapunzel was terrified. She didn’t know who these people were or what they wanted. She only knew that the feeling she got from them was cold and empty. She wanted to run but felt trapped by the circle drawn around her.
Suddenly, her mother was there, only instead of being comforted by her presence, Rapunzel’s fear spiked upward. As her mother stepped toward her, she said, “You are the key. Everything depends on you. My daughter depends on you.”
A man came forward and Rapunzel cringed in fear. He was tall and dark, his eyes black and lifeless. He too wore a black hooded cape. He lay his hands on her head and began chanting, the words foreign and strange. Rapunzel wanted to move away from him but was unable to.
Rapunzel’s hair began growing at an unearthly rate, surrounding her, binding her, choking her. She tried to escape but could not get free. She could no longer see the chanting people or her mother. She opened her mouth to scream but was stopped in her intention as her hair covered her mouth and pulled tightly.
Rapunzel woke with a scream. She lay on her bedroom floor, bound in her sheets. When she realized that she was safe, and not in the room of sixes, she began crying, relief flooding her. She lay that way for some time before disentangling herself and standing. She sat on the edge of her bed and glanced down at the mattress. Beneath the mattress lay all of the papers that she had spent hours reading.
Some of the papers were harmless, historical records of the Gothel family. It was the other papers, the ones written by her mother, that disturbed her. Or rather, not written by her mother but by the woman who had kidnapped her and now claimed to be her mother.
Rapunzel’s entire world had jerked to a standstill and she barely hung on. She felt as though the only thing she was capable of doing was screaming. But if she started, she might never stop.
She stood and went into her bathroom, removing her sweat-drenched pajamas and stepping into the shower. The hot water was almost painful against her fragile skin. She turned it cold, and let the chilly water wash over her frayed nerves, numbing them.
After carefully making her bed and making certain that there was no evidence of the papers that lay beneath, she went into her main living area, picked up the basket and the spilled apples and replaced them on the countertop. She poured herself a bowl of cereal but was only able to eat a few bites before her stomach rebelled. She poured the rest down the drain and washed the bowl. Then, deciding under her mattress might seem obvious, she went back and gathered all the papers. She took them up to her exercise room and stashed them beneath the treadmill. She then sat on her couch and waited.
When her door handle turned, her stomach tightened. She didn’t think she could pretend as though her entire life hadn’t been entirely changed less than twenty-four hours ago. Gothel stepped into the room and it was all Rapunzel could do not to sneer at the woman.
“Rapunzel, there you are,” Gothel said. Where else would I be? Rapunzel thought, sarcastically. She stood as Gothel came near. “How are you? Did everything go well while I was gone?”
“Yes,” Rapunzel answered shortly.
“Good. I always worry about you so when I have to go away.”
“Do you?” Rapunzel asked disbelievingly. “Tell me, where did you go?”
“Uh, I went away for a work meeting, Rapunzel. You know that.”
“What work?” Rapunzel asked. “What do you do?”
“Why I . . . What’s with all the questions, Rapunzel? I’m gone for six days and I return home to receive the third degree? Is that any way to treat your mother? You were fine when I spoke to you on the phone last night.”
Rapunzel laughed, scathingly. She strode away from her mother and stopped on the opposite side of her kitchen counter.
“What’s with you today? You’re acting very odd,” Gothel said.
“Compared to what?”
“Rapunzel! I am your mother and I will not tolerate this disrespect.”
Rapunzel hadn’t planned it, but somehow found her hand closing around an apple, which she threw with impressive force across the room. Gothel’s jaw dropped in shock.
“You are not my mother!”
“What?” Gothel’s voice was soft with disbelief.
“I know all about you. I know you killed your parents. I know you killed your husband and I know that I am not your daughter. You kidnapped me. How could you do that? What kind of person are you?”
As Rapunzel watched, something in Gothel’s face changed. A look of evil awareness replaced the shock. She moved slowly toward Rapunzel, and Rapunzel realized her mistake. She should have waited for Fane. She was out of her element here. She’d allowed her emotions to rule her actions. She backed away from Gothel’s approach until her back hit the edge of the counter.
“You think you know me, do you?” Gothel said, her voice practically oozing from her. “You don’t know anything, Rapunzel.”
Rapunzel reached behind her, her hand closing on the drawer handle. She pulled it open, rooting around inside while keeping her eyes firmly locked on the woman in front of her, the woman who she’d thought was her mother but was now a stranger. Her hands closed on an item, and a small smile crossed her lips. She pulled the pair of scissors from the drawer, pulling her braid around front and placing the blades against the silken strands.
“No!” Gothel froze, hands held upward as if she could stop Rapunzel’s actions. She then continued moving toward Rapunzel, speaking soothingly. “Rapunzel, you know the consequences of taking such an action. Calm down, sweetheart. Put the scissors down.”
Fury ran through Rapunzel. “Don’t call me sweetheart,” she said through gritted teeth. She brought the blades together, cutting a slice in one side of her thick rope of hair.
“No!” Gothel screamed again, rushin
g forward and tearing the scissors from Rapunzel’s hand. “You horrible, horrible, selfish girl,” she cried. She flung the scissors across the room, raising a hand high and bringing it down stingingly against Rapunzel’s cheek. Rapunzel was stunned by the action. She’d never been hit before. Gothel quickly bound her arms against her side with her own arms. Rapunzel struggled against a strength she hadn’t known her mother had.
“Stop it, Rapunzel! Stop it now!”
Rapunzel ignored the screeching of Gothel as she tried to get away. Something stung her shoulder just as she freed one arm. She stumbled, the room spinning and tilting wildly.
“Wha—” she said, finding it impossible to form a coherent thought as she fell onto her knees, one arm still held by Gothel. She tried to regain her footing but was unable as Gothel began dragging her. She saw the blurry vision of a syringe hanging from Gothel’s opposite hand.
Gothel dragged her out of her rooms, out the door, and down the stairs, not caring that Rapunzel’s spine dropped painfully from step to step. Blackness swirled at the edges of her vision. Gothel dragged her across floors and down more sets of stairs—some that Rapunzel and Fane hadn’t even found in their exploration. At least, she didn’t think so. She was having a hard time thinking clearly.
Finally they came to a dark, dank, cement room. The air was cold and damp. She dragged Rapunzel to the middle of the room and let her go. Rapunzel fell heavily to the floor.
“I swear, girl, if you’ve ruined everything with your stupidity, you’ll pay,” Gothel said, leaning down to thrust her face close to Rapunzel’s. She glanced down at her hand as if just remembering that she held the syringe. With disgust, she threw it to the side. She turned and strode from the room, closing the door behind her, leaving Rapunzel in the absolute darkness. She heard the sound of a key scraping in a lock.