《Murray's Antiques》 Prolouge Prologue Dearest Martha, How have you been, my love? I have been well enough. I don¡¯t know if you have heard, but I¡¯ve been trying to visit you. Mr. Miller has been a lot stricter recently, hasn¡¯t he? Rumor on the streets is that he¡¯s started killing witches, is that true? Have you heard anything about it? I¡¯ve never met a witch before, but all the witch hunts recently seem a little extreme. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re not so bad that we need to kill all of them, right? If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Martha, my love, what should I do? I don¡¯t know what to do anymore with you gone, I need you to tell me what to do. Do I join Mr. Miller and everyone else on witch hunts? Do I find some and protect them? I truly am clueless without you here ¡ª how much longer until your debt to Mr. Miller is repaid? How much longer do you have to keep working tirelessly for him? On the subject, please let me know if he¡¯s not treating you well. One should always respect their maids, I say. I hope the work isn¡¯t too exhausting, and I hope you get ample intervals for rest. Please make sure you get enough sleep, I know you like to stay up reading but if you get caught or you¡¯re too sleepy the next morning, who knows what Mr. Miller might do? Well, that¡¯s all I had the need to talk about, I wish you the best. Love, M ? Chapter 1 1 I¡¯ve heard people talk about the big city before, but I¡¯ve noticed that it¡¯s nothing compared to seeing it with your own eyes. There are more loud, fast cars ¡ª big, flashing lights ¡ª and disgusting sewer-smelling air that¡¯ll be stuck in your clothes until the end of time than anyone could¡¯ve ever told me. It¡¯s overwhelming yet exciting at the same time. I just want to cover my ears and close my eyes but I¡¯m too terrified to miss something, it¡¯s impossible not to look. My point is ¡ª it¡¯s dizzying. It¡¯s been a few weeks since I moved to the city. My Aunt Florence told me it¡¯d be a good change from the usual countryside and vast valleys I was used to. She said something stupid like, ¡°Change is good,¡± or something along those lines. Almost everything that know-it-all old lady says goes in one ear and out the other. She uses too many big words, she should know by now that I¡¯m an idiot instead of knowing what percent of Uranus¡¯s atmosphere is made of methane. The only reason I would ever remember something as useless as that would be because that means Uranus smells like farts. When I told her that, she refused to talk to me for three days. Before I left, Aunt Florence took a permanent marker and wrote on my hand. She wrote my new apartment¡¯s address, directions to my new fancy-city-kids high school from the said apartment, and specific instructions to GET. A. JOB. At my age, I should probably have a job, but I think I¡¯d be too lazy for one. I don¡¯t need it anyway, Florence wrote the password to her bank account on my other arm. After I arrived at my new apartment, I immediately went to explore. It¡¯s a dinky place that definitely could use a clean-up. I¡¯ll do it later. There is old rotting wood furniture tipped over on the floor, sheets of paper, and mail everywhere. I pick up a few envelopes. They¡¯re mostly boring. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Just taxes, taxes, pay your fucking taxes, then something catches my eye. It¡¯s a deep red envelope with flowers embroidered into the paper. It¡¯s been sealed with something that¡¯s a shiny gold ¡ª it can¡¯t be real gold, it¡¯s light as a feather ¡ª it looks like it¡¯s been stamped by one of those old wax seals ¡ª aha! It must be wax then, not gold. I rip the letter open and cringe as I ruin the beautiful envelope. Dearest Martha, Have you been well, my love? I¡¯ve been doing as best I can. Ever since I started working for Mr. Miller, he¡¯s been working me to the bone. He must know of my connection to you. I hope he¡¯s at least lightened your workload a bit. I¡¯ve tried to sneak away to see you, but I¡¯m always caught. You know me, I¡¯ve never been one to be light on my feet. I¡¯m doing as you said, I¡¯m keeping in contact with your friends. They really creep me out, love, I have no clue what to say to them. They keep weird medicines in bottles and smoke some sometimes, I don¡¯t know whether or not this is some kind of ritual or whether I should ask for some, it always smells really good in the room afterward and good things start happening to me. I don''t think they enjoy my company though¡­ What should I do now, my love? Love, M ? Next to the initial at the end, there¡¯s a heart. Holy shit, it¡¯s some kind of love letter. A loose paper falls from my hands, it¡¯s a postcard with deep brown bronze-coloured lettering. It says Murrays Antiques. Is it a shop? If it is, it must¡¯ve shut down a long time ago. I put all the papers next to my backpack. I roll up my sleeves and prepare to start a day full of cleaning. I may be an idiot ¡ª but I¡¯m not a slob. I throw out the rotting furniture, sweep and mop the dusty floors, replace lightbulbs, and go on a bug-killing spree. I don¡¯t stop until everything is spotless. I open my bag and bring out my clothes for the next day, my inflatable mattress, and its pump. I pump up the bed and make sure everything is ready for the moving van tomorrow. Chapter 2 2 Aunt Florence is calling me non-stop. I barely know how to make the new cell phone she gave me work, all I know is how to pick up and end calls. She put her contact info into it before she even gave it to me, so while I¡¯m moving all my stuff in, I¡¯m getting back-to-back calls from my worried Aunt Bitchface. ¡°How do you feel now that you¡¯ve moved out and you¡¯re on your own?¡± Her voice sounds small and strained ¡ª either very excited or she¡¯s taking a fat crap and she¡¯s very constipated. Then again, her voice always sounds like that unless she¡¯s mad. Her face would get beet red and she¡¯d always take a cold bath after I pissed her off. ¡°I¡¯m kind of concerned for one,¡± I groan while pulling in the giant box containing my bed, ¡°I¡¯m still technically a minor, right? Isn¡¯t my living like this illegal? Last I check I need an adult-¡± ¡°You¡¯re almost 18 anyway!¡± she giggles nervously, ¡°It¡¯ll be fine! Who cares! You need this to heal, Dr. Andreev said no one can help you but yourself.¡± ¡°Dr. Andreev is a dumbass who doesn¡¯t know what the fuck he¡¯s talking about.¡± ¡°Cassandra Mia Dawson!¡± She¡¯s trying to scare me into submission the way mom used to, huh, ¡°We do not use language like that!¡± ¡°You¡¯re not my mom, it¡¯s only scary if mom does it.¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯re mom¡¯s not here, is she?¡± she yells ¡ª she must¡¯ve finally got the poop out because she doesn¡¯t sound strained anymore. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I stay silent. I want her to know she fucked up by bringing up my unwillingly absent mother. I would¡¯ve thrown my phone out the window if she had brought up my dad. ¡°Hun, I-¡± I hang up. I call the only other contact in my phone with the intent to bitch about her to them. It rings. It¡¯s ringing. Then a tone. I hear a familiar Russian accent from a man who you can tell is smiling ear to ear just by the sound of his voice. ¡°Hello, I hope you¡¯re having a wonderful day, Friend! This is Dr. Andreev, so very nice to hear from you. I am terribly sorry I couldn¡¯t pick up the phone, I¡¯m probably in a session right now but I will call back as soon as I get the chan-¡± The voice message is interrupted by another tone. Dr. Andreev always picks up, even if he misses the call, he¡¯ll call you back before you even get to leave a voice message. I hate that considerate-happy-go-lucky-not-a-care-in-the-world fuck, but he¡¯s the only one who listens. I pick up, ¡°Cassy! How are you?¡± The happiness in his voice is making me nauseous, ¡°It¡¯s Cass.¡± He completely ignores my correction, ¡°Is your Aunty being mean again?¡± ¡°Please stop talking to me like I¡¯m a child or the next time I see you I¡¯ll punch you in the face.¡± ¡°Yes, can you answer my questions?¡± ¡°Yeah, Florence brought up my mom again¡­¡± I mumble. I suddenly don¡¯t want to talk about it anymore. It¡¯d be nicer to just snuggle under a blanket and cry in my newly moved-in bed. ¡°Did you tell her not to like we practiced?¡± he asked hopefully. I didn¡¯t want to disappoint him like I do every time I promise to do something we practiced. My stomach grumbles and my mouth goes dry. I get a little dizzy, sit down on the floor, and hang up. I stick my head in my hands, pushing my palms into my closed eyes until I see splashes of colour in the darkness. I take deep breaths, my fingers gripping tightly to my hair. I don¡¯t want to cry, no matter what. I always promised myself I was over it, I can¡¯t fall down the rabbit hole again. I lean my head back against the wall and a sheet of paper falls from the pile I had set down next to me. It¡¯s the postcard ¡ª deep brown with bronze lettering. Murray¡¯s Antiques. Sounds distracting¡­ I find the Google app on my phone, search for the name and call the number. ¡°Hi, sorry if I¡¯m interrupting anything. Are you offering any job openings right now?¡± Chapter 3 3 I¡¯m standing in front of a small but well-kept antique shop, the sign has the same bronze lettering from the postcard, Murray¡¯s Antiques. It¡¯s at the very edge of the city, along the road to the suburbs. It¡¯s surrounded by other shops that have obviously been deserted and not as well-kept as this one. As I open the door, small bell dings, alerting the owner of my arrival. The lights on the inside are dim, there are weird-looking figures and statues and pots and paintings all over the walls and shelves and some on the floor. The air smells old and damp, like an old man¡¯s closet ¡ª it¡¯s a strong smell but I can get used to it. Crystals from the old glass chandeliers gently clash together and 3 or more music boxes are playing quietly all at once ¡ª the shop is filled with the sound of the twinkles. I walk to the front desk, it¡¯s made of beautiful ¡ª and what seems to be hand-crafted ¡ª mahogany wood. The surface is smooth as I run my fingers along the edges. An old man walks through the door to the back of the shop, ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± he says. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s cool! I don¡¯t really know much about antiques but a lot of the things in here really are mesmerizing,¡± I said, looking around to prove my point. He smiles and leads me to the room he just walked out of, ¡°We don¡¯t have a uniform here, but we can have your name tag ready in less than a week.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, ¡°wait ¡ª does this mean I¡¯m hired?¡± ¡°We¡¯re incredibly understaffed, I would hire anyone at this point!¡± He forces a laugh, poor old man. ¡°What¡¯s your name kid?¡± he grabs a piece of paper and hands it to me. The paper was a normal get-to-know-you form ¡ª it reminds me of a similar form I filled out back in 3rd grade. ¡°I¡¯m Cass,¡± I smile at him. I take the form and quickly fill it out on the desk. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Name: Cass Dawson Age: 17 Gender: Male Female Other Preferred Pronouns: . She/her . I quickly finish the form and continue to look around. Life doesn¡¯t feel real in here. I wander around the store while his back is to me. Sitting on a shelf ¡ª all alone ¡ª is a dainty, perfect-looking, porcelain doll. Her hair is redder than red, perfectly curled into two pigtails. She¡¯s wearing an elaborate white dress with a blue ribbon and bow, and black, shiny little shoes. Her eyes are hazel, and the sun shines through the window and into the irises making them glow green. She¡¯s indescribably pretty. ¡°I see you¡¯ve found Martha,¡± The old man says, joining me and staring at her in awe. ¡°Pretty name for a pretty doll,¡± I sigh. That name sounds familiar though¡­ ¡°She¡¯s the first antique I¡¯ve ever put up for sale in this shop, she¡¯s been here the whole time,¡± he looked at the doll lovingly. ¡°It¡¯s almost hard to believe that a gorgeous doll like this wouldn¡¯t sell.¡± ¡°Oh, she did sell,¡± he smiles, ¡°she¡¯d keep getting returned though. All her reviews say she¡¯s haunted!¡± Well, shit. ¡°Tomorrow I¡¯ll introduce you to Nessa,¡± the man puts his hand on my shoulder, ¡°I¡¯m Murray, by the way.¡± ¡°I figured,¡± I smiled back at him, ¡°we¡¯re in Murray¡¯s Antiques, and they¡¯re your antiques.¡± He laughed, ¡°Smart kid, I¡¯m glad I hired you. Feel free to continue exploring, it¡¯s not a big place and we rarely get customers, but it¡¯ll be good to get a lay of the land.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± I say. Murray turns and goes back through the door to the back room, I follow him. Two walls are filled with shelves of boxes. There¡¯s a plastic table with two cheap folding chairs, one more folded on the back wall ¡ª the back door is right next to it. Murray takes a seat in the chair closest to that door and picks up the newspaper that was previously lying on the table. The only light illuminating the room is a swinging lightbulb on a wire ¡ª it flickers every few seconds. There are 5 lockers next to the doorway I¡¯m standing in. 2 are open, and 3 are closed. One of the closed ones has stickers all over it, and I think a flannel hoodie is poking out through the bottom. The one next to it is rusting, it looks older than the others ¡ª like it hasn¡¯t been opened for a long time. The last closed one ¡ª the closest to me has a piece of paper with sparkly star stickers over it, it says Murray with a smiley face. ¡°Pick a locker,¡± Murray says behind his newspaper, ¡°only one of the open ones, please.¡± I pick the one with the least crumbs and rat shit in it. I put the love letter I found and the postcard in a shoe box. I place the shoe box on the highest shelf in the locker, then lock the door with the lock I was supposed to use at school. I don¡¯t even need a locker for school, so it¡¯s the perfect use for it. Chapter 4 4 I walk back into the store. I pass the doll again before I exit ¡ª I swear its eyes were following me. The bell dings as I open the door again. ¡°See you again tomorrow Cassie,¡± a high-pitched girly voice whispers just loud enough so I can hear it before the door shuts. I open the door again to respond to the voice, but there¡¯s no one there. All that¡¯s left are the quiet ticks of the clocks, the final twinkles of music boxes, and Murray¡¯s quiet chuckling. As the sun starts to set, the lights shine through the windows making all the dust floating around visible. A few stained glass artifacts hanging from the ceiling paint the floor with reds and blues. The store feels unsettlingly empty. The voice was probably just my imagination, or maybe the door made a weird sound. As I close the door again though, I hear a soft giggle and immediately run. After I¡¯m a few blocks away, I decide it must be safe enough to slow down now, right? As I walk the rest of the way home, I go over my plans for tomorrow in my head. It¡¯s dark by the time I get to my apartment complex. All the bright lights are on, they¡¯re doing a better job at keeping the street illuminated than the street lamps. Someone is sitting on the curb. They¡¯ve got their head nuzzled between their legs and a broken skateboard and a bag on the road next to them. I walk around to try and get a better look. It¡¯s a girl. The bag next to her has the tag my new school gives its students to hold their IDs, so she¡¯s probably around my age. She¡¯s twirling her dark hair around her fingers, fiddling with the bright red streaks. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. She sighs and grabs her bag before she gets up. I move away so she doesn¡¯t bump into me. She keeps her eyes down and turns around ¡ª it¡¯s like she didn¡¯t even notice me. Out of the blue, she says, ¡°How long were you watching?¡± Her voice is breaking, she must¡¯ve been crying. ¡°I just got here, are you oka-¡± ¡°Mind your own fucking business, whore,¡± she spits at me. Well shit ¡ª she didn¡¯t need to be so rude, I was just being considerate ¡ª which was going against everything I stand for. I¡¯ll never talk to another human being ever again, thank you for teaching me that, Random Bitch. I would¡¯ve been able to come up with a good comeback too if I wasn¡¯t so distracted by the destruction of melting eyeliner on her face. It looks like someone took an ink well and fucking dumped it on her ¡ª damn if only I could say it out loud. She storms into the front doors of my building. I stand outside and stare through the windows, making sure she¡¯s in the elevator before I walk in after. The lights glare in my face as I walk in, approach the elevator, think ¡ª what if she¡¯s still in there ¡ª then take the stairs. I sigh as the door satisfyingly clicks closed behind me. I breathe in the fresh air of home, except the air isn¡¯t fresh, it actually smells like something died in here. I open the balcony door and the cool spring breeze fills my lungs. I sit on the white balcony chair that Aunt Florence insisted I had and take deep breaths ¡ª close my eyes ¡ª and let the wind blow on my face. It¡¯s calm ¡ª silent. Then I hear a giggle. It¡¯s a soft one, it sounds welcoming. A little girl having fun. It¡¯s so quiet I question if I¡¯m actually hearing it or if I¡¯m going insane. The laugh rushes into my ears all at once ¡ª so damn loud! My eyes fly open. Something feels off. The air smells of vanilla. A golden butterfly flutters past my face. My eyes instinctively follow it. I shouldn¡¯t have. I see the butterfly. I see the train. I see the crash. I see my parents die all over again. Chapter 5 5 Being at school is the last thing I want right now. My back hurts from falling asleep on that stupid chair and my tired brain doesn¡¯t really feel like taking in new information. Fuck you, quadratics ¡ª go die? My eyelids are so heavy, my brain feels like a brick. I slam my head down on my desk just as the bell rings. I sling my bag over my shoulder and instead of walking through the door like a normal person, I walk into the doorframe. I hear snickers in the hallway. ¡°Cass? Are you okay?¡± my teacher asks because that¡¯s her job. ¡°I don¡¯t have a concussion, so that¡¯s something,¡± I groan, then put on a comically large smile so she knows the only thing keeping me alive is sarcasm, ¡°have a good day Ms. Anderson!¡± I trudge out the door and to my locker. I check my list in my mind, focusing on mentally checking off my boxes. That was easy enough. There was jammed-up traffic everywhere I went. Rush hour is no joke. It¡¯s been easy, but getting through the first two periods of the day with no social interaction is child¡¯s play. I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll get worse¡­ I haven¡¯t had any free time so far and I want to explode. Physically burst into flames. End me now. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. I slam my locker door shut and bang my head against it. I peek into the caf. It¡¯s packed. I never thought I¡¯d see a cafeteria this packed outside of a coming-of-age movie. I don¡¯t really want to go inside. Fuck it ¡ª I¡¯m just going to go in and sit down until my appointment starts. I take a step in ¡ª get a whiff ¡ª and run out as fast as humanly possible. I just smelled a combination of shit, piss, BO, and french fries. You couldn¡¯t get me to go back in there if you held me at gunpoint. I find a small corner in the library, plug in my headphones, and prepare myself for the pure bundle of disgusting joy that would appear on my screen. ¡°Hello, Cassy!¡± Dr. Andreev flashes me a smile brighter than the sun, ¡°How are you doing?¡± ¡°It¡¯s Cass, and I feel sick,¡± I scowl, ¡°if you¡¯re just going to beam your happiness at me for half an hour I¡¯m just going to pass out right now so my ears don¡¯t bleed in the middle of school.¡± ¡°HAH!¡± please shut up, or at least be quiet. It¡¯s like he¡¯s never heard of an inside voice, ¡°That¡¯s a funny joke, Cassy!¡± I want to genuinely off myself :)
After telling Andreev how my day has been, my mood, and why I want to die, he lets me log off of the meeting. I push my palms into my eyes until I start seeing fireworks. Colourful pinks, oranges, greens, and blues. I don¡¯t ever want to open my eyes. I want them to close and stay closed. I want to fall asleep and never wake up. I want to dream forever. My eyes eventually pry open. It stings. The bell rings. There¡¯s no use wanting to die this early in the morning. I continue trying my hardest not to punch obnoxious kids I see in the hallways in the face and make it to the end of the day. I sigh in relief and walk to the bus stop right outside the school. A figure catches my eye. It¡¯s the girl from last night. The same shoulder-length dark hair with bright red streaks. She doesn¡¯t notice me at all. She gets into the bus waiting area with me, stands next to me, and stares ahead. I notice I¡¯ve been looking too long and turn my head, I stare at her through my peripheral vision, hoping she catches my stink eye. The bus arrives and she gets on. I follow a few seconds after. She sits in the back, and I sit in the front, right behind the driver. We both get off at the last stop. We both walk the down the same streets and turn the same corners, She walks into a store and I sigh. She¡¯s finally gone, and I can relax. I look up at the sign of the store and mentally shit my pants. Murray¡¯s Antiques. Well, fuck me. Chapter 6 6 I take 10 deep breaths and close my eyes. The bell dings as I take one grueling step after step. The place is empty, looking the same amount ethereal as it did yesterday ¡ª I don¡¯t see the girl anywhere. I feel like a creep or some kind of burglar, lurking around the empty shop. ¡°Are you stalking me or something?¡± The girl adjusts a nametag on her shirt so it doesn¡¯t cover Iron Maiden in a big bold font across the front of it. ¡°No, today is my first day of work here,¡± I explain, but she doesn¡¯t stop raising her eyebrow suspiciously until Murray greets me and tells me to ¡°come on back here.¡± ¡°I want you to meet Nessa,¡± Murray smiles. ¡°Grandpa! I told you not to call me Nessa anymore!¡± she grabs a feather duster from a shelf and huffs back into the main room. ¡°Right, sorry!¡± Murray calls after her, ¡°Anyway, Cass ¡ª she¡¯s Vanessa, your only coworker other than myself.¡± I force a smile in a pathetic attempt to hide how uncomfortable this situation is. Am I secretly being filmed? Is this part of a movie or something? It feels like too much of a coincidence to be real. Murray limps to the chair he sat in yesterday, that¡¯s my cue to start officially working. I walk around the store until I¡¯m forced to confront the fact that I have no idea what to do. I never got training or anything like that ¡ª and what does one even do in a store with no customers? Oh shit ¡ª In a normal ¡°new job¡± situation, the new hire shadows a more experienced worker, right? Wow! I¡¯m so lucky that my only other coworker is nice and approachable and definitely won¡¯t bury me in a field if I look at her the wrong way. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. I slink over to her side, maintaining a comfortable yet uncomfortable distance, and I watch. There¡¯s not much to learn, she¡¯s just dusting ¡ª and last I checked, I only saw one duster. ¡°Can I help you?¡± Vanessa gives me a cold glare that sends shivers down my spine. ¡°Uhh, yeah, actually,¡± I offer an awkward giggle in hopes that she won¡¯t murder me with her eyes in return, ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do¡­ I¡¯m not trained or anything.¡± ¡°There¡¯s not much to do,¡± you fucker ¡ª I saw you roll your eyes ¡ª don¡¯t even bother hiding it, ¡°dust in the morning, then do whatever the fuck you want.¡± Okay, Rudey McRude-Pants, you can go fuck yourself. She could¡¯ve at least said it a bit nicer. I begin to walk over to the front desk but stop in my tracks. A beautiful ¡ª what I assume is handmade ¡ª pot is on a little electric plate, turning in circles so the nonexistent customers can see the whole thing. There¡¯s a painting of some kind of fairy-looking thing on a leaf, holding a ball of light that¡¯s actually a battery-powered LED. ¡°Hey, do you know who made this?¡± I ask no one. Surprisingly, I get an answer, ¡°Grandpa only buys the antiques, I don¡¯t think we actually know the creators.¡± I want to touch it, it looks so smooth, almost unreal. ¡°Stop!¡± Vanessa grabs my arm before I can feel the professionally crafted porcelain, ¡°we¡¯re not supposed to touch the antiques, it¡¯s Grandpa¡¯s only rule!¡± ¡°Why? I just want to touch it for a moment, it¡¯s not a big deal,¡± I tug my arm away and my finger gently brushes along the flower pot. ¡°Shit!¡± Vanessa pulls my arm back and we both fall to the floor. ¡°Ow!¡± I cry, ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you? I barely touched it ¡ª don¡¯t get your knickers in a knot. Wait-¡± The floor feels different. It¡¯s not the same hard white tile that it was a second ago. I run my fingers through the thin delicate blades of grass beneath me. At least, I think it¡¯s grass¡­ if you ignore the dark blue colour, it looks a lot like grass. We look up and in place of the store¡¯s ceiling, is a sky ¡ª a bright lilac sky surrounding the shining orange sun. There isn¡¯t a building in sight, just the flower pot. It sits right next to me, on a cliff where we can hear the crashing waves beneath us. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯re in the store anymore,¡± I say, pointing out the obvious. ¡°No shit, Sherlock,¡± Vanessa glares at me as she stands up, ¡°the only way to get back is to touch the antique again.¡± ¡°Wait wait wait!¡± I grab her hand, ¡°this has happened before?¡± ¡°I touched one once accidentally¡­¡± she tries to avoid my gaze, ¡°I was stuck for a week or something like that. Time passes weirdly here. The reason I got out was because of some strange voice.¡± she blows a few strands of hair out of her face, ¡°when I got back, half an hour had passed.¡± ¡°How intriguing¡­¡± I snicker. I think back to the letter and the postcard, maybe they led me here for some reason, ¡°let¡¯s explore!¡± I say. ¡°Are you insane?¡± Vanessa snatched her hand back, ¡°there¡¯s no way I¡¯m spending another second in here.¡± ¡°Come on! It¡¯ll be exciting, like an adventure. We¡¯ll explore uncharted territory!¡± ¡°You¡¯re too into this,¡± she rolls her eyes and walks past me, ¡°it¡¯s off-putting¡± ¡°So, that¡¯s a yes?¡± ¡°Come on before I change my mind.¡± Chapter 7 7 ¡°Ugh, I¡¯m tired.¡± ¡°YOU¡¯RE TIRED?! You¡¯re the one who wanted to explore!¡± ¡°Yes, but there¡¯s nothing here,¡± I whine, ¡°let¡¯s just go home.¡± ¡°No way, you started this, now we¡¯re finishing it,¡± Nessa is dragging me by the arm as we walk because I kept getting left behind. I look back, and I can still just barely see the pot. This sucks. ¡°I''m allowed to be tired, you didn''t have to come along,¡± I say, trying to act tough. ¡°Well, it''s not my fault you wouldn¡¯t stop begging me. You convinced me and now I¡¯m here for your protection,¡± She tugged harder. ¡°Excuse me?¡± I regain a bit of my energy, just because I¡¯m a petty bitch. ¡°I mean look around, this isn¡¯t our world,¡± Nessa flings her arm around as if to show me her point, then she points to me, ¡°Now look at you,¡± I¡¯m sweaty as fuck and my hair has definitely seen better days, ¡°do you think you could actually survive without me?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I stand firm, proving my point, ¡°Yes, I do.¡± ¡°Pffft-¡± ¡°What?¡± I tug my arm away and begin walking forward on my own. See? I¡¯m strong enough, I don¡¯t need you, ¡°If you wanna go back and leave it¡¯s fine-¡± ¡°Cute,¡± she mumbles. ¡°Huh-?¡± She didn¡¯t just say that, right? ¡°What did you say?¡± I stopped walking and stared at her. ¡°You''re cute when you''re angry, I can''t argue with you seriously,¡± she begins walking alongside me. ¡°Why the sudden change of heart, Princess of Darkness? I thought you hated me,¡± ¡°Shut up, let¡¯s just keep the pace.¡± ¡°Make me,¡± I say. She laughs and it¡¯s beautiful. I never expected that kind of noise to ever come out of her mouth. ¡°Hey, wait-¡± she stops me, ¡°look straight ahead, I¡¯m not imagining that ¡ª am I?¡± I look behind us, and I can¡¯t see the pot anymore. ¡°Not behind ¡ª ahead, dumbass!¡± Ahead of us is a hill. It¡¯s a strange-looking hill because this hill has a door and windows and lights and a chimney. ¡°Oh my god, it¡¯s like a hobbit house.¡± ¡°A what?¡± I stare at it confused as Nessa takes off toward it, ¡°wait!¡± If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Nessa knocks rhythmically on the door, looking as excited as Aunt Florence when I ask about the moon. I don¡¯t feel like punching her face like I want to punch Aunt Florence though. No one answers the door. She knocks again and the door swings open on its own. The pitch-black inside seems to want to lure us in, but I¡¯m not that stupid. ¡°Not so excited now, are we?¡± I smirk and pull her away from the door. The look on her face is obviously telling me she wants to go inside, but I have too much horror-movie-watching experience. ¡°No, I want to go in,¡± she says, trying to break free of my hold. ¡°I know, Nessa, but your grandpa will fire me if you die ¡ª so that¡¯s a no.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s your need for adventure now?¡± Touch¨¦. ¡°Fine, whatever ¡ª just don¡¯t let go of my hand,¡± I slip my hand down from her arm and grip her hand tightly, it¡¯s cold. Her skin is almost freezing, that can¡¯t be good. She leads me into the darkness, almost like she¡¯s in some kind of trance. It¡¯s like she knows exactly where she¡¯s going. The lights flicker on, ¡°ah, so you¡¯ve finally arrived, oh weary travelers.¡± Before us is a wooden stump surrounded by little wooden chairs. Deep vibrant curtains hang from the ceiling along with little fairy lights. The fireplace has been lit, and along the mantle are books with velvet covers stacked on top of one another, and jars full of acorns and berries and leaves of a kind I don¡¯t know. Along the walls are beautiful paintings that I¡¯ve never seen before, none by any artist that I know at least. On the wooden stump that I now realize is a table, there¡¯s a black metal teapot and black teacups on black saucers. Sitting in the wooden chair is a maiden. Her lime green skin is flawless, and her bright yellow hair flows over her shoulder ¡ª long pointy ears poke through. Her pitch-black eyes seem to light up as soon as she sees Nessa ¡ª including the one on her chest. She gets up and hugs her like they¡¯re old friends. The maiden smiles and ushers us to come further inside. I can¡¯t take my eyes off that eye. It¡¯s blinking ¡ª as deep and dark as a bottomless pit ¡ª right under her collarbone. It¡¯s freaking me out. ¡°Oh, Nessa, you didn¡¯t tell me you brought a friend,¡± the maiden stared at me. ¡°Hi, yes, hello,¡± I wave at her, ¡°I¡¯m Cass, who are you?¡± I peel her hands off Nessa¡¯s shoulders. Nessa doesn¡¯t do anything ¡ª wait, is she drooling? ¡°I¡¯m Aisa,¡± she smiles at me and I get a shiver down my spine. ¡°Well, you have a lovely home, but I think Nessa and I should go now,¡± I try to move her, but she¡¯s rooted in place. It¡¯s like she¡¯s been screwed into the floor. ¡°Nessie?,¡± Aisa slips her hands around Vanessa¡¯s waist and plays with her hair, twirling the red and the dark bits into a tiny braid, ¡°do you have to go?¡± ¡°No,¡± she says robotically. Oh my god, she¡¯s so obviously brainwashed. ¡°That¡¯s a good girl,¡± Aisa weeds her fingers through Nessa¡¯s and leads her to a seat. She sits and Aisa pours her tea. I stay close behind Nessa¡¯s seat, how the fuck can I break the brainwashing? How did she even get brainwashed in the first place? ¡°Tea, Cass?¡± the green temptress asks. ¡°No thanks,¡± I say. I poke Nessa¡¯s back, hoping if she gets annoyed enough she can wake up and slap the shit out of me. ¡°Cass, why don¡¯t you take a seat?¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather stand than live the rest of my life in eternal damnation suffering with whatever the fuck is happening to my friend, thank you.¡± Aisa¡¯s eyes go wide. It¡¯s funny, when a person¡¯s eyes are completely black, even if you can¡¯t see the whites, they¡¯re just as expressive when showing frustration. I¡¯m not doing what she want¡¯s me to do. Did her brainwashing not happen yet, is she trying to get me? Or am I just so fucking awesome that it hasn¡¯t worked? Aisa puts the teapot down. She walks past Nessa and makes a beeline for me. She backs me up against the wall, grabbing my face and holding me just centimeters away from her own. She giggles, ¡°You¡¯re blushing?¡± She looks up at me and I swear the black abyss behind her eyes twinkles. I can hear my own heart beating fast. A creepily warm feeling completely wash over me, shivers continuously going up and down my spine. It feels like I¡¯m getting tortured, and it feels like I¡¯m enjoying it. Fuck. She sneaks her hands around my waist and pulls me closer, ¡°You¡¯re good,¡± she smirked, ¡°your mind is strong.¡± I push her away, ¡°Thanks, but I¡¯m not interested.¡± Aisa giggles as she walks back to Nessa, ¡°You¡¯re good,¡± she says to me, keeping her eyes on her, ¡°but I¡¯m better.¡± Aisa takes the cup of tea and raises it to Nessa¡¯s lips. She plays with her hair as she drinks, her eyes ¡ª watching me. With a loud crash, the tea cup smashes into unsalvageable little pieces on the floor. Nessa falls along with it, gripping at her neck, begging for air. ¡°Nessa!¡± I push Aisa away from her and hold her in my lap, rocking her back and forth, ¡°what the hell did you do to her?¡± ¡°The tea,¡± Aisa smiles, ¡°you¡¯re smart ¡ª you didn¡¯t drink it.¡± ¡°I knew there was something fucky about you-¡± ¡°And you didn¡¯t do anything about it,¡± she kneels at my side, whispering in my ear, ¡°it would seem my magic worked after all.¡± Aisa clutches her sides as she burst into manic laughter. ¡°Now you can¡¯t leave!¡± She screams. ¡°Just watch me!¡± I hold Nessa close to my chest and make a run for it out the door. She looks like she¡¯s in so much pain ¡ª fast wheezing, scratching at her chest. ¡°You won¡¯t get far!¡± Aisa yells after me, ¡°Before long, the roses in little Nessie¡¯s lungs will be fully grown ¡ª unless you stay with me, she will die!¡± I run. I run and I run and I don¡¯t look back. Roses in her lungs? From the tea?? Nessa coughs uncontrollably, and something splatters on my face. It¡¯s her blood. Shit. Chapter 8 8 This is absolute bullshit. I finally feel like we¡¯re making progress on the friend thing between us, and she has to fuck it up by getting brainwashed and drinking magic fucking tea that infects her lungs with fucking roses and she keeps coughing her blood on my face ¡ª god fucking damn it. If Nessa hadn¡¯t made me run on the way here, I¡¯d probably be faster when escaping the elf/nymph-crazy-bitch. I see the pot, I¡¯m almost there. I slow down in relief. When we go home, the roses should go away, right? It will because magic doesn¡¯t exist in our world, right? Are the roses even magic? I set her down by the pot on her side so she doesn¡¯t choke on the blood, ¡°hey hey hey, look at me,¡± I hold her face in my hands, ¡°just stay focused on me, okay? Don¡¯t fall asleep ¡ª focus on me.¡± Despite the literal bleeding in her lungs, she finds the strength to stop wheezing. She looks at me with a determined smile. ¡°That¡¯s my girl,¡± I say. Her eyes fill with tears as she speaks through gargled coughing, ¡°Now¡­ I remember why I didn¡¯t want to come back here¡­¡± She laughs as she vomits. Fuck, she keeps getting worse. I startle and hug Nessa¡¯s head close to my chest when I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I don¡¯t want to look up at who it is, because who else could it be? ¡°She¡¯s on the road to death,¡± Aisa says. ¡°No shit,¡± I turn my head slightly ¡ª I see her out of the corner of my eye ¡ª and I spit on her shoes. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Aisa shows no sign of caring, and I have a creeping feeling that I know why she¡¯s here. She wants to strike a bargain no doubt, I know how these movies go. ¡°You have a deal for me right?¡± I fight the urge to grab her shoe and beat the fuck out of her ¡ª if she has a compromise that will save Nessa, I¡¯ll do anything. ¡°So smart,¡± Aisa chuckles as she kneels down to my level. I catch her eying Nessa in disgust before giving me some fucking amazing goo-goo-eyes. I almost fell for it. ¡°I do have a deal,¡± Aisa takes my face in her hands. She¡¯s so gentle, I feel like one touch could melt me away completely, ¡°you wanna hear it?¡± she says, licking her lips. ¡°Will it save Nessa?¡± ¡°If that¡¯s what you want, then fine,¡± She rolls her eyes and takes out a piece of paper from who the fuck knows where ¡ª I certainly don¡¯t see any pockets. ¡°Sign this,¡± she says. I read through it, but she explains it anyway, ¡°I¡¯ll take the roses out if you stay with me here forever as my partner,¡± she smiles. ¡°When I say take the roses out, I mean in a safe way in which she lives a healthy life,¡± ¡°So you¡¯ll sign it?¡± Her eyes light up with excitement. Well, someone¡¯s got attachment issues, that¡¯s for sure ¡ª and it¡¯s not me. (Maybe I do, but that¡¯s not my point.) I hear a voice. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s in my head or if everyone else can hear it too. The smooth gentle voice of a woman speaks to me saying, ¡°Read the fine print, then sign it. You¡¯ll know what to do.¡± It repeats itself once, then disappears. I¡¯d really rather die than date the elf, but when my eye catches the fine print, I get a small boost in confidence, ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll sign it.¡± Aisa smiles. She may be a bitch, but she¡¯s inhumanely beautiful. Her smile is made up of perfect white teeth. Despite her ink-black terrifying eyes, she seems soft, like your favorite pillow ¡ª the one you choose to sleep on every night while ignoring the other one. I want to reach out and touch her face, but resist the urge. Damn, she¡¯s good. She pulls a pen from the same place she pulled the contract, and I sign it all while perfecting the plan I have in my head. Aisa jumps up in delight as she snatches the paper away the second my pen lifts off the page, ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± she smiles. She snaps her fingers and hums a tune. Nessa¡¯s nearly closed eyes fly open as she vomits up blood. The blood doesn¡¯t stop. It taints the blue grass with a sickeningly dark purple. She hurls and wheezes but her insides just keep pouring out. This is it, I think, this is where she dies. I¡¯m sorry, Murray ¡ª you can fire me now. She pukes up a thorn. Then a branch. Then 3 roses. The deadly, bloody plant lies in the now deep purple grass, next to an unconscious Nessa. She¡¯s not moving ¡ª my instinct is to run to her, to check her pulse ¡ª but Aisa stops me. ¡°She¡¯s not worth your time, darling,¡± she caresses my face in her hands and I¡¯m forced to do nothing but stare into those two abyssal pools in her face, ¡°she¡¯s not worth mine either,¡± Aisa smiles at me. A warm feeling washes over me ¡ª a feeling telling me that I¡¯m her whole world, that she can¡¯t live without me. That her life was hell and as soon as I walked into that house, I immediately made it better. It¡¯s such an amazing feeling. The warmness all over is replaced by pain. A stabbing, sharp, ongoing pain in my neck as Aisa bites down on me. She bites harder and I scream as she begins sucking. It hurts so badly, I can¡¯t believe I let my guard down. The lavender sky begins to blur, and the sound of the rushing water beneath the cliffs starts to become muffled. I feel nothing as my head hits the bloody grass. The last thing I see are those deep, black eyes, staring at me with a fake sense of loving. I¡¯m gonna kill this bitch. Chapter 9 9 I wake up in bed. Thank god, it was just a dream. Wait ¡ª it couldn¡¯t be a dream, I don¡¯t remember going home from work. I also don¡¯t remember completely decorating my room like a little country girl who lives in a cottage by a lake and¡¯s obsessed with fungus. Right ¡ª I¡¯m at Aisa¡¯s house, she must¡¯ve carried me back. I¡¯m covered by a deep red blanket, golden leaves splattered across it. I look down ¡ª I¡¯m still in the clothes I came here with. I slowly get up, warmly welcoming the worst migraine ever. I¡¯ve never felt a pain so intense. My legs give out from under me. I want to staple my eye shut tightly until it¡¯s all over. Thousands of little knives are getting thrown at my brain all at once, causing little, but agonizing pinches all over my head ¡ª then rocks are swung, over and over, bruising me and pounding my head. It¡¯s like I can feel my brain move around in my skull. I can¡¯t help but scream. Aisa comes running up to the room. She puts her arm around me, shushing me like a mother would do to her child. She traces circles on my back as I curl into her, hiding from the light that enters through the windows. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Cassy,¡± she whispers. For some reason, when she calls me that name, I don¡¯t want to hit her. ¡°It''s okay, it¡¯ll all be over soon.¡± She lifts my head, and I stare into the eye on her chest. It feels like a wave of relief washes over me, taking every moment of pain I¡¯ve ever pain with it. I sink deeper into Aisa¡¯s embrace, too tired to fight back. ¡°There we go, Darling. Feeling better?¡± she runs her fingers through my hair which I realize is out of its high ponytail. She weaves my hair into a braid as my shallow gasps return to normal breathing. ¡°It¡¯s okay, my love,¡± she kisses my forehead. ¡°What the fuck happened to me?¡± I say breathlessly. She hugs my head to her chest and I¡¯m forced to swerve my head because I don¡¯t want to be anywhere near the blinking thing in front of me ¡ª my head lands on her shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s a natural response to waking up in a different dimension, Darling,¡± she says through kisses, ¡°it happens all the time.¡± Something clicks in my brain. No wonder no one came to the shop. They must¡¯ve at some point but they probably all touched the antiques and ended up here. Nessa and I aren¡¯t the first. Someone else might still be here. Aisa begins to stand up and I can¡¯t help but cling to her. She holds her arms steady around me, helping me up as I take in a breath of flowers. A sweet-smelling fragrance coming from the nymphlike-whatever-she-is in front of me, and I want to be closer. Aisa giggles and it¡¯s such an adorable sound. She holds my face in her hands and smiles at me and I want to see her smiling forever and be with her and ¡ª The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. She pats my head, ¡°There we go, love. Feeling better?¡± she asks and I nod. She takes my hand in hers and leads me down the stairs to where we were yesterday. I know I¡¯ve only been in her house once before, but it all feels so familiar ¡ª like coming back to your childhood home after being away at university. Aisa sits me down on one of the stools at the tree stump table and pours me tea from that same black teapot. As I stare at the dark liquid, I feel uneasy. Am I¡­ Forgetting¡­ something¡­? I don¡¯t want to drink the tea. I want to puke. I cover my mouth, trying not to gag out loud. ¡°Is something the matter? Honey?¡± I get a chill as Aisa strokes my back, up and down, in an attempt to calm me. ¡°I feel sick,¡± I¡¯m going to pass out. ¡°Drink your tea, dear, you¡¯ll feel better.¡± ¡°No!¡± I swiftly throw the tea on the floor, the liquid seeps into the wood and Aisa tries to hide the fact that she¡¯s a little more than angry. ¡°You don¡¯t like tea?¡± she says softly through her teeth. ¡°Something is definitely wrong,¡± I mutter, ¡°I¡¯m forgetting something important.¡± ¡°You¡¯re forgetting how much you need to drink this tea,¡± Aisa doesn¡¯t take her eyes off me as she picks up the broken teacup off the floor with her bare hands. She doesn¡¯t even flinch as a shard pierces her skin and for some reason, I want to be worried about her, but I¡¯m not. She slams her bloody fist on the table, ¡°This has gone on long enough,¡± she¡¯s insane, ¡°no matter how many times I reset your memory, we always get to the exact same spot in time!¡± she laughs and flings the shards my way. My arms go up, protecting my face and she grabs one of them with her bloody hand, holding one last shard in the other, ¡°you don¡¯t want to drink the stupid tea, but that¡¯s not all, you¡¯re forgetting something, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯re forgetting that I¡¯ve been trying to make you mine all week and we haven¡¯t even finished a day!¡± She drags the shard along my arm, digging the point into my skin. I can barely feel the pain over all the anger and memories flooding back to me. I came here with Nessa. Aisa tried to hurt us. Now she¡¯s trying to kill me again ¡ª well, I won¡¯t sit back this time. Screw it all. ¡°This is new,¡± Aisa laughs at me as I stand and grip her wrist in my hand, ¡°Usually you scream in pain and pass out. Feeling adventurous today, bitch?¡± I squeeze and Aisa drops the shard. She claws at my hand, begging me to let her go as I drag her to the knife block she has on her counter, along with the many herbs and books. I slam her arm down on the counter, a knife comfortable in my hand. ¡°Where¡¯s Nessa?¡± I demand. ¡°As if I¡¯d tell you!¡± some kind of black liquid pours out of her eyes. Is she crying? Poor thing, if only I cared. I raise the knife, ¡°Talk or I¡¯m going to start chopping fingers.¡± She spits at me and I replay a message in my head over and over. She¡¯s not human and she¡¯s evil, she¡¯s not human and she¡¯s evil, she¡¯s not human and she¡¯s evil. ¡°Oh, hesitating are we?¡± Aisa laughs at me again, ¡°You¡¯re pathetic, don¡¯t you know that you should never hesitate-¡± her sentence gets cut off by a scream ¡ª her scream, as she stares at her hand which now lies on the floor, far away from where it should be at the base of her arm. Oops ¡ª I cut too far. Oh well, practice makes perfect. I raise the knife again, ¡°Start talking.¡± ¡°She¡¯s in the basement with the other failed specimens. You can go to her if you¡¯d like ¡ª you¡¯re next after all!!!¡± Her true colours have finally shown. She¡¯s screaming and laughing like a maniac, her hair is a mess, she somehow grew fangs and the black tar-like substance is flowing out of her eyes at more rapid speeds. I can feel her wriggling under my grip ¡ª I guess humanoid, probably immortal beings are afraid of death too, who knew? ¡°I don¡¯t think I will just yet,¡± I say, smiling. I have to admit, I might be enjoying torturing her just a little ¡ª helping release repressed anger and hate for certain people or something. I move my hand up her arm and slice it off at the joint and her screams and cries turn out to be music to my ears. ¡°I finally get it,¡± Aisa says breathlessly, ¡°It¡¯s not me who¡¯s the monster here, it¡¯s you ¡ª look at you!¡± ¡°Get your eyes checked, bitch,¡± I drive the knife into the one place I wanted to avoid at all costs. She pissed me off ¡ª it¡¯s her own fault. It takes a few tries to tug the knife out of her tit-eye, the hole I left began bleeding that black tar. I take a step back and admire my work. Aisa is kneeling on the floor, screaming and crying in pain, ¡°No, how could you. Don¡¯t leave me. I don¡¯t want to die alone,¡± she whimpers as the tar spews out all 3 of her eyes. She shrinks smaller and smaller until she¡¯s nothing but a puddle of sticky black goo. Then it¡¯s silent. Quiet, so quiet, I almost forget what I¡¯m doing (again.) I run around the first floor, flinging doors open hoping one of them is the door to the basement. Then I find it. It¡¯s dark. Like someone attached the gateway into the abyss, but the stairs are going downward so this must be it, right? ¡°Nessa?¡± I call out in a whisper. At first, there¡¯s no response, then a cough, then a ¡°Cass¡­? Is that you¡­?¡± followed by a weak sounding, ¡°help¡­ me¡­¡± then nothing. Yep, this is it, I think to myself as I take that first step, one small step into my worst nightmare, one giant leap toward my death. Woohoo. Chapter 10 10 I can¡¯t see anything. Everything is pitch black. If the stairs ended right now and I fell over the edge into a bottomless pit ¡ª I would not be surprised. Small whispers creep around me as bright colours flash in front of me and I don¡¯t know if any of it is real. It¡¯s too quiet, too dark, too scary. Yelling a name, and confirming life down here should be my first priority, but I¡¯m a little too focused on being quiet lest some kind of monster jumps out at me once I give away my location. I¡¯ve seen movies, I¡¯m not an idiot. Horror movies¡­ what do people do in movies when it¡¯s dark¡­ I think as I reach for my phone, flashlight! My hand slips into my pockets. I check every single pocket I have, but my skin never meets the cool metal I keep expecting. Fuck, I must¡¯ve left it in my locker. Why have I been cursed to be a model worker ¡ª to never be caught on my phone while employed in customer service? Well, I may not have my phone, but at least I have sarcasm. My foot hits the floor ¡ª a different material from the wooden stairs, it¡¯s concrete. I am officially in hell. I drag my arm along the walls, hoping to find a light switch or run into a table ¡ª a dead body ¡ª anything. Do nymph-hobbit houses even have electricity? I squint my eyes. It¡¯s dark ¡ª yes ¡ª but my eyes might be slowly adjusting because I¡¯m pretty sure on the opposite wall that¡¯s a window. I want to run to it, but I¡¯m genuinely terrified of tripping over a mummified corpse or something. It smells like old people gave birth to a rotting fish stew, then they died and were marinated in that fish stew for a few years and it finally went bad last month and no one has thrown them away yet because I killed the only person who lives here just a few minutes, maybe seconds ago. Wow, great first day at work ¡ª can¡¯t wait to tell Aunt Florence about all this when she calls! I scream and immediately cover my mouth. What the fuck is a puddle doing down here? Even better ¡ª what¡¯s the puddle made of¡­? My shoe is wet, I¡¯m trembling and I really don¡¯t want to die before finding Nessa. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°C-Cass¡­?¡± A voice right in front of me says. Right underneath the window, I can make out the shape of a body. Dark hair, red strips, a band T-shirt, ripped jeans, and a face that¡¯s almost lost hope. ¡°You¡¯re here!¡± Nessa¡¯s eyes light up when she sees me, but mine don¡¯t. She¡¯s strapped to the wall with chains like some kind of animal ¡ª god, I am so happy I killed that bitch. Her wrists are red ¡ª probably from struggling ¡ª in cuffs attached to the wall. ¡°Wait,¡± Nessa¡¯s face twists from happy to worried, ¡°If you¡¯re here, where¡¯s Aisa?¡± ¡°I killed that fucker,¡± I say proudly, but Nessa¡¯s not looking any less worried. ¡°Y-your contract¡­ will the roses¡­?¡± ¡°They won¡¯t come back,¡± I scan the dark room, looking for something to break her chains with, ¡°The fine print in the contract ¡ª they said if she died for any reason, all the spells she called off won¡¯t come back. I remember now, that¡¯s why I made the deal in the first place.¡± A hammer ¡ª it¡¯s perfect. I pick it up from the floor, not too far away from the window. ¡°WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?!¡± Nessa screams, flinching as I bring down the hammer with all my might. I just barely scrape past her hands, breaking the chains. I wipe the sweat off my forehead as something catches my eye. A flash of white in the abyss of dark blackness. Tucked behind a crate not far from Nessa is an envelope. ¡°What is it?¡± Nessa joins me in staring into the darkness. Cautious and careful, I tiptoe over and pick it up. It¡¯s a cream-coloured white, but it has the same golden seal that I remember. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Nessa peeks over my shoulder, ¡°A letter? What¡¯s that doing down here?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± this letter is easier to open than the other one. The envelope isn¡¯t the scarlet colour from before, but I could never get that golden seal out of the back of my mind. This has to do with that letter. I slowly unfold the note and read. Hello, my love, I apologize for not being able to reply to you sooner. Mr. Miller has been monitoring my every move, I can only assume he suspects me of being a witch. Shame, I thought I was hiding it so well. You¡¯re probably shocked, and I¡¯m sorry I never told you about who I really am. I honestly thought it would scare you away. However, you¡¯re getting along with the witch coven just fine, so please don¡¯t hate me for not telling the truth sooner. Please tell my friends to use the cards, if the result they get is the outcome with the least amount of deaths, tell them to strike back as soon as they can. I¡¯d prefer it if I didn¡¯t burn at the stake before Miller dies, I quite like the idea of watching him cry as the life bleeds out of his soulless eyes. He deserves the most painful death for what he did to you, to us, and to every witch in Thornhill Woods. I also would like to live to get to raise our child ¡ª another thing I apologize for not telling you sooner. The only thing keeping me going right now are thoughts of the two of us raising this baby and brutally murdering Miller. The next time we meet, we should start selecting names, I like Nathaniel for a boy, don¡¯t you? If it¡¯s a girl, I refuse to argue with you, we are naming her Vanessa. It¡¯s a name I¡¯ve always loved. Anyways, back to the subject at hand. I¡¯ve set up everything here at the mansion for the other witches, don¡¯t forget to tell them about the cards. If I don¡¯t respond to your next letter, I want you to speak to the gods for me. Tell them to please protect all that is important to me. Your Dearest Martha ¡°That¡¯s freaking weird¡­¡± Nessa backs up when she¡¯s done reading it, ¡°The lady in the letter-¡± ¡°Martha?¡± ¡°Yeah, whatever. She wanted to name her kid either Nathaniel or Vanessa¡­ right?¡± ¡°I thought it was weird that you have the same name that she thought of too. Don¡¯t worry about it though, it¡¯s probably just a coincidence,¡± I shrugged off the thought of anything else. ¡°No way, my dad¡¯s name is Nathaniel.¡± Oh, damn.