Evil Thing (Villains 7)

“Well then, you’re taken care of. Brilliant. I don’t have to worry about you.” She looked lovingly at a photo of my papa on the mantel.

“Mama, the income from the tenants and farmers is barely enough for the upkeep on the house and lands, let alone enough to live on. I thought perhaps I could travel with you. Or you would reconsider and let me live here. Is it too late to say you want to keep the house?”

“Listen, my dear, I think the country air will do you some good. Some time away from the city. You have to reclaim yourself, Cruella. Create a new life. Just as I did when your father died.”

“But how? How will I do that?”

“Cruella, you’re a strong, resourceful young woman. You’re just like me. Your father always said so, anyway. Look at me. I lost my husband and my fortune, and now I have it back! You can do the same! Distinguish yourself, my girl. And what better way to do it than with a completely clean slate? And in a new home, De Vil Hall. Oh, that will be so lovely for you, my Cruella.”

I had vague memories of De Vil Hall from when I was younger. We didn’t spend much time there because it was too rustic for Mama. Surrounded by a little village, with farms. Nothing but rolling hills as far as the eye could see. It was hours and hours out of London. So far from my friends, and the life I had built for myself with Jack.

I felt as if I was being exiled, hidden away so my mother wouldn’t be embarrassed by her penniless daughter. Hidden away because I had been withered and aged by my grief. What better place to send me than the old De Vil estate in the country? A place that would later be known as Hell Hall.

Even though De Vil Hall was grander than I remembered, it was a lonely place. It was a place out of another time, with its velvet couches, ornate wooden furniture, and gold-framed oil paintings of my father’s long-dead relatives peering at me. It was a dead place. A place to die. And that’s what I intended to do. I spent my days and nights missing my Jack, missing my parents, and missing my old life. I languished there, too heartbroken to eat. Too heartbroken to do anything other than cry. I cried and screamed into the night so often that De Vil Hall became known as Hell Hall in the neighboring village. I decided to embrace it.

I couldn’t find my way out of the darkness or see a light at the end of my wretched misery. I cried until I was too exhausted to cry anymore. I’d fall asleep and dream of the days when I had been truly happy, walking in the woods on Miss Upturn’s grounds with Anita—only to wake up in this dark place with its peeling wallpaper and groaning floors. I was so angry with my mother for abandoning me to this. I grew angry with Jack for not providing for me after his death. I was upset with myself for not listening to my father’s warnings about my mother, and angry with him for not doing enough to protect me from her. I was alone. And it was all my fault. I had pushed Anita away. I’d never believed her warnings. But she had been right all along. Everyone had.

I gave Mama everything that should have been mine, and she turned her back on me, leaving me to the howling winds and barking dogs of the countryside.

I kept replaying my last conversation with my mother. Wondering why I didn’t rail on her when she didn’t offer to help me. I had always been afraid to make her angry. Afraid if I spoke out she would abandon me. In the end, none of it mattered. That’s exactly what she had done anyway.

I can’t say how much time passed. How long I spent lamenting my old life. How many lonely nights I cried into the darkness with no one to hear me or comfort me. I wasn’t myself. I had tossed aside the things that reminded me of those who abandoned me. I stopped wearing my furs and my jade earrings—I even stopped wearing the jade ring Jack had given me. Seeing them brought only anger and more tears. I started to see how my life had come to ruins. How I was brought to this. I thought I saw it all so clearly, the way I had that Christmas when Anita and I were still close. Everyone in the kitchen that night had been my real family, and I had done nothing but push them away. I missed Anita and Perdita. If only I could have afforded to keep them on, I would have brought them with me.

In my desperation and loneliness I decided to call Anita. I had been in bed for days. Exhausted, weak, and alone. But I picked up the phone and called one of the few people I felt had ever truly loved me. She was surprised to hear from me. We had been writing occasionally, of course, but hadn’t spoken until that night.

“Hello, Anita darling. It’s me, Cruella.”

“Cruella? Hello. How are you?”

“I’m not well, Anita. I was wondering if you would agree to meet with me. There are so many things I would like to say to you. So many things I am sorry for, but I’d rather talk with you in person. And I would so love to see Perdita.”

“Oh, Cruella. I’m not sure if that is a good idea. Things went so wrong between us. I’m just not sure.”

“Anita, please. She is mine, after all. A gift from my father. Would you deny me just one little visit, and the opportunity to tell you how truly sorry I am for … well, everything?” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and a small sigh.

“Of course not, Cruella. Let’s meet at the Park Café. Do you know where it is?”

“I do. And you will bring Perdita along?”

“Yes, Cruella. She will be with me.”

“Thank you, Anita. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You’re welcome. And Cruella …” She paused. “I’m happy you called. I have missed you.”

“Oh, Anita. I have missed you, too.” And then I hung up before she could hear me trying to choke back the tears. I hadn’t expected her to say that she missed me.

I was so anxious to see her that I stayed up almost all night pacing those lonely halls. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I could do nothing but regret the choices I had made. Anita was right. My father was right. And I was drowning in my bad choices. But all would be well when I saw Anita. All would be as it was before. I would have my life back. I would have my friend back.

I was so nervous that morning while getting ready to meet Anita. I had gotten myself into a tizzy trying to find the right outfit. I wanted everything to be perfect. I tried on everything in my closet, first putting it on, then flinging it on the bed or the floor, until I finally arrived at my black dress.

The black dress. You know the one. The only dress that felt right. The only dress that looked right. I had so wanted to leave my old trappings behind, to leave the old Cruella behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the house without them. Quite at the last moment I decided to wear the ring Jack had had made for me, and the earrings given to me by my sweet papa. Wearing my most cherished piec

es made me feel as if I was becoming myself again. Something within me shifted—especially when I put on my earrings. I felt a tingling sensation. A feeling that intensified as I made my way back to London.

The one thing I left behind was my fur coat. I couldn’t stand to see the thing. It reminded me of my mama, and I was worried it would remind Anita of my mama as well.

After a long drive I finally arrived in London and found the little café, exactly where Anita said it would be. Not that I doubted her. I was feeling so much better being back in London. I could breathe. And I felt more confident. I was filled with a vitality I hadn’t felt in a long time, and I was happy I’d made the trip. There was something about wearing that dress and my jewelry again that gave me courage. Or perhaps it was being back in London, or the prospect of seeing Anita again, or kissing Perdita’s soft black nose. I wasn’t quite sure. Whatever it was, I was happy to be there. And to be feeling like my old self again.