Abominations (American Horror AU 3)

Chapter 2

"Welcome to your new home, Miss Mortenson."

An eccentric old woman with bright red hair and a flamboyant fashion sense, who was accompanied by albino servants, led a scared-out-of-her-wits Eleonora down a seemingly endless hallway with quaint white paint and a regal air about it. One of the albino men held two of her suitcases filled with clothing and things she would need. Her mother had accompanied her on the ferry to New Orleans, and even managed to stay there. Helen had even put their house back in Florida up for sale so she could get a lovely apartment for herself in the French Quarter while Eleonora stayed at the academy.

"Let's start a new life," she had said. "Away from all the bullshit."

The strange old woman with red hair stopped and opened the door to reveal a simple, but elegant bedroom. She gestured for the young girl to go in, and she complied, smelling the fresh scent of clean linen and French lavender filling the room. She went to go sit on the edge of the bed, looking up and watching the albino man with her suitcases look at the woman silently, but with a curious face.

"Oh, right there on the dresser," she said in a shrill voice.

Eleonora looked up at the woman with curious green eyes, and then her eyes wandered around the room. The comforter on which she was sitting was soft and white, and the bed frame was made of coiled brass. The dresser, side tables, and the support of the window seat were all a deep mahogany, which reminded her of the dining table back at home. Suddenly, the shrill voice caught her attention, and she looked up to see it was the strange woman.

"You don't have to be afraid," she said. "I am Myrtle Snow. I'm very happy to see a new face around here. You'll make a fine addition to our school."

"When do classes start?" Eleonora asked, flinching slightly as Myrtle took a seat next to her on her bed. "And my major? They transferred my high school credits, right? So I can be a wri—"

"I'm sorry," Myrtle cut in. "This isn't that kind of school."

"Oh," the girl muttered under her breath, discouraged. Myrtle smiled at her, peering at her through her large, horn-rimmed glasses as she took a tress of the girl's soft, straight hair and ran her fingers through it.

"Such a beautiful color," she crooned happily. "It is as though they took the brightest, most golden part of the sun and put it in your hair. It's so rich."

"Oh," Eleonora said with a girlish smile. "Thank you."

"And those freckles," Myrtle pointed out. "They make you look…young. How old are you?"

"Nineteen," she replied.

"Oh, that's a lovely age. I remember," the woman said to her. Then she stood up abruptly, leaving the room, but before she could, she turned around and looked at her. "Don't be afraid to look around, dear. This is your home, too, now," Myrtle said.

Eleonora took it upon herself to unpack half of her luggage before walking down the seemingly endless hallway to a grand staircase. She walked down the steps, slowly and curiously, and walked down the chandeliered atrium and gasped at the aesthetic quality of the ancestry room, a parlor of sorts that had Greek-style columns and a white stone fireplace with fire burning several pieces of wood. The furniture perfectly matched the walls and color scheme of the room, and it was quite luxurious and as much so as the crystal chandelier hanging above the sofa, lounge chairs, and coffee table. Ivory drapes adorned the antique glass windows, and a desk that matched the room was against the wall between the windows with picture frames hung up. As Eleonora reveled in her lavish surroundings, she heard footsteps—she turned her head to look behind her, but no one was there. When she looked to the side, she saw four hooded figures, robed in raven black with beaked doctor masks covering their faces.