Pretty Poison

Forty - Four

◈ Beatrice ◈

The house fell silent, the music seemingly stopping. The screaming, the yelling, it all stopped. I wanted to look out the window, to see the sights that lay beyond, but couldn't. I didn't dare to stare out the glass, remembering what had happened last time. I couldn't risk being seen.

Now, the world around me is completely dead, no noise coming from anywhere. The party must be over for I no longer hear any lingering voices. I sneak a peek out of the window now, stepping close to the glass now knowing no one is around. The coach lights and lamp posts all remain off, the garden completely dark and vacant of all life.

My eyes glide around the space. The fountain stands still with stagnant water, the water pumps turned off and the lily pads inside gliding gently across the water. Its relaxing, soothing, the tranquility and simplistic nature of the garden never fails to melt my problems away.

From the corner of my eye, I see a glint from behind the trees, my mind instantly infatuated with it like a cat with a red dot projected on the wall. It's as if a mirror were placed there, the moon shining off of it to reflect a shiny statue.

I search around the trees, then my eyes glide down to the ground where a scorched patch of grass sits peacefully. I scrutinize the patch, recognizing it immediately like I did the first time I came back here. The glinting catches my eye again, and I wince a bit. It seems like it's moving, but I don't know how or why.

I search the garden again for anyone, but find no one. The garden is quiet, vacant and void of anything. I take in a deep breath, pushing myself away from the window to pivot on my heel. I go to the door, but immediately stop.

What are you doing?

Don't leave this room, Beatrice.

I inhale and exhale for a moment, putting my head against the door. I fiddle with the lock, contemplating, and without focusing, I press on it with a little too much force. The lock flips open, and I exhale instantly. I press my ear to the thick door, listening for any noises coming from the other side.

Silence. The halls stand still. The house stands still, no creaking floor boards or settling frames crack as the wind pounds against the exterior. Without another thought, I take hold of the handle and rip the door open quickly, the hinges sparing me a loud squeal.

Luca said he would come find me, but he never did, and I'm tired of waiting. I feel the sudden urge to just go outside for fresh air, just for a moment, not too long. I know the risks, but I can't stand being locked up in a room much longer. I just need to breathe.

The halls are silent as I step through the threshold. I step with feet like feathers, jaunting with one foot in front of the other. My hair curls around my back, strands falling over my shoulders.

The space is cold, and it becomes even more frigid as I place one foot on the marble stairs. I creep down, one by one, but freeze as I hear something from another room: a loud, husky breath. I turn to the living room, my eyes inundated with empty glasses and beer bottles everywhere. The furniture is in complete disarray as loose pieces of clothing lay spewn out on the floor. I hear the loud wheeze of a breath again and only now realize the blatantly drunk man passed out on the sofa. He reeks of liquor, every breath releasing a rancor of horrific proportion.

I step past him, careful of where I step. A chill runs up my spine, my clothes providing no warmth. I reach the back door and pull it open. As I do, a rogue wave of relief washes over me. I take in the sweet scented grass, freshly watered from the rain. The skies loom with a shadowy overcast, yet it somehow stays calm.

I step out into the garden, the wet grass blades intertwining between my toes. I cross my arms around my body, holding myself tightly as I stare at the ground below. At that moment, I see the light.

I avert my gaze up, my eyes narrowed and brows knit. I see it, the light, hiding behind the trees in the dusk. Faint moonlight crowds the space, lighting the way back to the patch of scorched grass.

I stop at its edge, kneeling down to place a single hand down on the dead patch. I remember what used to be here, how much time I used to spend in this small rectangular space. The hair on the back of my neck stands up at the memories, the cold, the bitter cold that never failed to keep me up at night. I let out a low sigh, and stood up a moment later.

I look at the trees, but the glinting is gone. My face twists into a quizatory, puzzled stare.

"Looking for something?" Before I can answer, a rag is shoved into my mouth as a strong hand wraps around my neck.

I scream and thrash my feet. Terror in my eyes as I struggle to break free. I howl as a hand connects with my ribcage. Steamy tears fall from my eyes, the pain seething through every nerve.

"Stop fighting it, you cagna! Hold her still!" Another voice shouts, taking hold of my feet lifting me from the ground.

I scream and thrash even harder, adrenaline coursing through me as my heart beats rapidly within my chest. I swing my free hand around to connect it with a buff neck, but it doesn't remain there long for I feel another punch to my stomach.

The man holding me by my neck shoves the rag further down my throat, forcing me to inhale and choke. I try to cough, my nose tingling and nostrils on fire. My tears come faster, raging down my face to my neck.

My eyes begin to droop, lower and lower as they become too heavy to hold open.

"She's almost there," I faintly hear.

I stop screaming, my muscles becoming paralized and too weak to move any longer.

"Stop...st-" I struggle to say through the rag, my voice muffled and tone cracking. "St-st...L-Luca," I say again, before my eyes shut, squeezing one last tear out of my duct, the droplet racing to the ground.

What did you do, Beatrice?