Village of sorrow ~ Ethan Winters x Reader

A Normal Day

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Chapter I.
Wordcount: 2497

Muffled yelling and drunken laughing vibrated from the tavern under you.

You bashed your head against the table and slumped your tensed up shoulders down with an annoyed exhale.

Can they get any louder?

You thought to yourself.

You had always been curious about the life bustling outside these four walls you were mostly kept in. And it didn't help that there was a filled tavern with people and strange faces you'd love to examine, right underneath your very room.

The only face you had seen your whole life was Miss Mary's.

She was an old lady with a rich skintone, possessing sharp eyes surrounded with deep wrinkles which always bore a hint of worry. Her face had come to settle as a permanent stamp in your psyche.

Your dreams featured husks of people, since you had never truly been allowed a moment to lay eye on them in person. Tales of heroes and medical studies on the art of healing were the only images you could go off on, for they were present in the books you would read to pass the time.

If luck had struck correctly, Mary would give you permission to occasionally enter the nearby forest when the tavern downstairs was still at early noon. Sadly you messed up the frequency of these outings, as you had 'accidentally' trailed off the wood-trail towards the main village path.

"What about the room you've been hiding up therrr-" a muffled drunken voice slurred from downstairs.

You stood up and quickly planted your ear against the wooden door. It was hard to make out what was being said... But with some focus you could hear a little better.

"Dont... The last time you'll be doing th..."

You leaned against the door a little harder and steadied your focus.

"--..never getting into my tavern again-!"

A loud thump followed which made you jump away from the door. Shaking and echoing followed through your chamber, causing some of your paper to fly off of the table.

Everytime someone would come close to the stairs leading up to your room, Mary would immediately start a difficult-to-follow argument downstairs. One that would always lead to a patron being thrown out.

With a sigh you walked over and collected the knocked down paper, eyes scanning over the drawn images on them.

Drawing and sketching what could be out there was a brilliant use to pass the unbearable time, as well as journaling.

Once both the journal and papers were back and neatly stacked on your desk, you idly walked over to the window.

It was snowing outside. Little white delicate flakes having found their end against the glass, immediately melting because of the warmth of your room.

Carefully you placed your hand against the cold window. After a few seconds you sighed and shook your head.

It had been a long boring day and your bed looked especially tempting.

Before giving in though, you walked towards your mirror.

You examined your features and trailed your hands down your white linen dress. The one you've had a select few of that would be washed by Mary every week. For a woman who kept you in insolation and complete mystery, she sure did care for you. Always checking up on you if you felt under the weather, bringing you a nutritious well put up plate of food every night and morning, bringing you books to amuse and educate yourself. It's as if she felt pity, like she was dragging you towards a horrible fate she couldn't stop.