It was cold and darkness covered everything that night.
Isabelle didn't sleep, however, she hadn't slept for a few nights.
The princess sat there on the white and soft mattress of her bed and stared, observed, at something in front of her.
Emptiness surrounded her, and the fact that she was lost looking at emptiness could seem an obvious trace of madness, which in those days had begun to affect her head and her way of thinking.
But she was not stupid, what she saw, in that dark void, only she could see and hear it, feel the sadness, the emotion of that moment.
For some time, night after night, strange figures, ghosts, spirits had begun to present themselves before her, coming to her in the form of visions, each time of different people from whom she had taken the life.
Some days the Dustins visited her, others Abigail or Francis, others her younger half-brother, Thomas Cross, the illegitimate son of her deceased father.
But not this time, that night it was Gilbert, who almost never came to her on the nocturnal visits.
The spirit wandered in the darkness, filled it with the light, clear and cold, that his soul burst from his body.
The general wandered restlessly, back and forth, and he repeated these movements, over and over again.
The thing that struck Isabelle most was that, not only had a dead man presented himself to her, in the form of a spirit, but that the conditions in which he had presented himself were the same as that day when she had killed him.
A deep cut which lay adjacent to his heart, was the same one she had inflicted him that day.
-Stop wandering around the room like this, please, you are starting to give me a headache- the lady complained.
Gilbert finally stopped, turned his gaze towards her, smiled at her, leaving the terrified one to observe the scene.
Terrified that on the pale transparent skin of the soul that was leading her to her damnation, his two eyes had started crying from them a red, thick liquid, similar to blood.
What could that be? A nightmare? A communication that Gilbert really wanted to give her from her beyond? From the land of the dead, his revenge for what he had suffered in this life.
This is how she remembered Gilbert, with the same shoulder-length hair, pale face and grey eyes.
-Say Isabelle...- the general turned his gaze away from her, looked away, slowly, in the dark, out of the window, at the moon, at the thousand stars.
-... you say Isabelle, do you feel remorse, for something in your life?-.
That question was so unexpected and intrusive.
Did she seem like the kind of person to have remorse for something?
She clenched her fists against her hips, she was angry, even though she knew, in her heart, that she had had enough of her remorse in her life.
Something against her will made her nod slowly and reluctantly.
She had lowered her gaze, she no longer had the strength and desire to look that dead man in the eyes.
-I have a lot of remorse...- she admitted sighing from her lips -for what I did, accomplished, I would start all over again if I could, now I have the power, but at what cost? Everyone hate me or want to end my life, is it worth it...is it worth admitting now all that I have accomplished? All my sins?-she said scratching herself with her nails.
-Everyone longs for my death, even you, Gilbert and you, who died because of me...- she whispered.
The man began to look at her, to stare at how the first tears fell from her eyes, fell on her blankets, on her mattress, around her.
-Then you do have feelings...- her late husband mocked her -you have never felt them for anyone else apart from you, as the hour of death is getting closer and closer...-.
-I loved you...you bastard!- the princess protested -you took Charlotte away from me, our daughter and only heir! As if you weren't satisfied enough now! My goodness! Say what you want from me!-.
Isabelle lifted into her hands one of the fine, delicate silk pillows that lay beside her in her bed.
She squeezed it with her fingernails, forcefully she threw it against Gilbert, which, however, being dead, created no obstacle to her pillow, letting it crash hard against the white wall.
-I just want what is right...what I know you want too, my darling...- he tried to calmly talk to her who had entered an emotional mix of anxiety and panic -what is better for you too...-.
-You don't know at all what is best for me!- shouted the princess throwing another pillow to the man -all I am waiting for now is for you to go to hell!-.
Gilbert slowly nodded.
-Look at you, Isabelle, you die every day even if you do not leave this world, nobody loves you, nobody can bear you...I am loved every day and I am grateful for this, to be loved, by Abigail, by Francis, for eternity, I'm glad to be myself-.
The princess began to get anxious, panicked, she started screaming, squirming inside her bed.
She felt something grabbing her throat, it was mushy, liquid, Gilbert had sent the cold blood dripping down the walls against her throat.
She was having a nightmare, she was awake though.
All of that couldn't be true!
-Kill yourselves, my lady, take your life, come with me, I know that this is what you want too, I read it, from your heart, from your soul-.
Isabelle shook her head and with it her long hair, which fell to her bottom, ruffled by the night.
She kept her eyes closed, she was afraid.
-I...I...I don't think I can, I can not do it...-.
The door opened, the guards entered, the attendants, alarmed, entered the room finding Isabelle thrown into bed.
She was not doing good at all, she was squirming in shock, violent, fast.
Her sweet, pale face was now coloured with a clear blue shade around her small nose, as if she did not actually receive enough oxygen to breath.
She held the dagger in his hands.
But she saw no one coming.
She did not hear, her soul was now tied to her head, she was not in her body, she was her body and she was alone, surrounded by darkness, with the grip on her neck caused by the her late husband.
-I can't...I can't breathe- the lady begged -what should it be if I died, if I came with you...?-.
The man released the blood's tight grip on her neck.
Charlotte came out behind her father, she seemed frightened, but at the same time nostalgic and happy to see her mother again.
She ran to meet her, her embrace, the girl placed her head and her numerous long white hair, the color of the snow on her chest, on her breasts, embraced her.
-Mother...mother...- she cried on her chest, holding her tighter -mother... oh mother, please, come with me, don't leave me alone...-.
Her daughter... she was dead too, her Charlotte had returned to this world only to embrace her, to love her, to tell her that she loved her, to take her with them.
A few tears rose to Isabelle's eyes, her little girl, her little princess, who had promised herself to protect from everyone and everything, the little girl she had given birth to, her only deceased daughter, she had returned to her.
-Our little girl, the evening I visited her, she made the right choice, she decided to come with us, to give her young life to the eternal...she was suffering so much- Gilbert explained the man still being at the foot of the bed, where his ex wife lay.
Now everything was explained, that was why, that evening, when they had found the lifeless body of her little girl, her neck was full of deep scratches.
It was no one who took her life, it was she, herself who decided to accompany her father on his eternal journey.
-You were wrong, Isabelle, but now you have another chance, don't you want to stay with us forever, with me? With our little girl?-.
Isabelle nodded, it was true, she wanted to start over, she wanted to die.
-Raise her head, quick! Make sure that her majesty does not suffocate, remove the knife from her hands, so that he cannot get hurt!- the attendants ordered, snatching it away from her hands, firm and cold, trying not to let her take her own life.
It was so impossible for her to leave this world.
It didn't matter how much the spirits around her body, the darkness enveloped her, she tried to tear from her body the soul that still bound her to that earth.
They bit her, they devoured, they squeezed her lungs, her throat, but they couldn't tear away her life, not now that she didn't have a weapon with which to end herself.
Her head, her hair were placed on two comfortable and soft pillows, as the quick, jerky movements, the convulsions of the princess diminished.
Her mother entered the room, usually closed, but now full of a thousand candle lights, which strong and warm illuminated the room at night.
The woman sat on the bed, on her soft mattress, moved her daughter's head towards her, hugged her, held her long, wavy hair in her fingers.
She began, with her fingers, warm and sweet, to caress the pale face of her daughter, more red and bluish around her nose.
Katherine couldn't see her eyes, they were turned backwards, was that why she didn't see her? Because she was in a place, in a space, in a time too far away to reach.
The girl's breathing began to slow down, become normal again, her eyes, dull and tired had returned to look around her, lost.
She looked slowly at her room.
Outside the window, it was still night, dark, the moon, large and bright, together with the stars gave a particular brightness to that cold darkness.
She remembered everything of her attempted suicide, it was all true, what had happened then.
The knife, which had been withdrawn from her, now lay, lightly stained with blood on the precious wood shelf beside her bed.
She touched her neck, scratches, small cuts were there, just like on the corpse of her deceased daughter, she was bleeding from there and it hurt, only now, that she realized what she really had done.
-Isabelle, my daughter!- she felt the tears, cold, frightened, falling from her mother's eyes on her face, on her pale cheeks.
-You are fine!-.
The princess smiled, as cold tears also began to come out of her eyes.
-Mother! Oh mother! You just can't imagine what a horrible nightmare I just had...-.