Crimson Peak I Bottled Butterflies

Chapter One : Allerdale Hall

Author's Notes: "Hello, everyone! Thank you for taking a peek at my first entry to WattPad. I've actually been attempting to write a first chapter for this for years. I haven't actually written in a very long time - so please be gentle with me! I tried to pace up the chapter from what I'm usually used to, because I've noticed WattPad likes to move a little faster. I'm still getting used to navigating around WattPad and learning the styles of how to post. I hope to get better with time, but thank you again for stopping by!

I do want to set some warnings before you proceed. There will be mentions of suicide, murder, death, violence, etc. There will also be sexually explicit scenes - heh, eventually. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!" - Versailles 

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Pop.
     Crack.
             Snap.
                   Whoooo-ssh!

The sound. That infernal, wretched sound. With eyes barely open, the girl rested flat on the floor turned her head with a weakened tremble. The fire circled, roaring and reaching to the heavens from the hearth of the fireplace. The heat scarcely kissed her skin to warm the tears dampening her face; as the house took a deep, haunting breath.

"Ad montesoculoslevavi" the face of the fireplace read, while above a chiseled portrait of the holy spirit and his disciples looked down upon the flames. Perhaps he was looking down at her, disappointed in her actions before him - or perhaps he was gazing at her with a look of sympathy. Would he be coming to gather her shortly, or would he be guiding her to the roaring fire as an elevator to her fate? Her heart ached for any form of pity after her time in this accursed house. Thinking about it made her head sting, causing her to wince as her vision blurred. The flames danced together in one blurry puddle of color and she could feel her consciousness slipping from her.

However, before she could slip into darkness, a lightened figure stepped before the light of the fireplace. She blinked, but her vision did not improve. All she could make out were a possible pair of legs. Impossible, as she was home alone. Maybe it truly was the holy ghost coming to gather her up and take her to the next life. How kind of him to escort her personally after she had taken the life he had given her - tossing it to the bitter wind.

The figure moved closer. Suddenly, she felt her lips part into an small, pitiful attempt of a smile. Finally, she would escape this house and the hell it had trapped her into.

"Thank you," she breathed as this obscure image grew even closer. She could feel a shift in the air when the pair of legs had reached her. A gentle coldness brushed against the skin of her cheek, seeming to push back one of her ginger curls from her face.

Her body began to shift and quiver, trying to turn itself and look upon whomever came to guide her to the afterlife. Still, her eyes remained unfocused and all she could see was a foggy frame. The young woman could feel her body starting to give in and her eyesight began to darken. As her eyelids shut, she could hear the sound of a soft hum echoing throughout the room. It was soft, feminine and accompanied by the mellow sounds of a piano.

Was this the sound of death welcoming her? How calming. Her body relaxed as she lost consciousness.

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It wasn't always this way, before Annabelle jumped to take her life. She once lived in a world that knew sunshine and warmth. She had never even seen snow until she was brought to Buffalo, New York by her new fiancé Oliver Riddle for his newest venture into the world of becoming a successful investor. It was an early snow that didn't even stick to the ground and she watched it evaporate as quickly as she had witnessed it. But it was just as magical to her as if she had seen a snow covered mountain - like the ones she had read about. What a glorious October afternoon it was.