Before Time Runs Out

Chapter 1

Ethel Castell. That was her name. Her mind was spinning as she laid on the floor of an unknown parlor, the heat from the roaring fire within the fireplace mixing with her drug-riddled mind and the minor fever she had already attained from her trip out in the cold, despite having been well dressed for it. The blurred ceiling tiles were a mix of gold and cerulean and cardamon, while the large diamond chandelier hung what felt like hundreds of feet above. The pins in her long curls had come undone from its previous updo, and her long locks of hair were now strewn around her head, framing her pale face. How did she get to this situation? the drugs made her memory foggy.

Ethel argued with a close family member at a party she would have rather not attended and had thrown her fur coat on and a pair of gloves, gotten into her father's automobile, and made her way off down the streets of Linz, despite it being dreadfully late at night. She refused to cry over things such as family arguments, she had gotten used to having poor relationships with the family line. The chilly air fogged her breath into a white puff with every exhale, and she knew her cheeks were going to be quite flushed from the bitter cold of winter. She slowly came to a stop at a familiar place, her favorite hill that happened to look out perfectly towards the night sky. She pushed the stick into brake before relaxing back into her seat and pilling out a lighter and an herbal cigarette. She refused to smoke regular tobacco since it gave her such terrible tremors, and at least with lavender mixed with mint, the air around her smelled quite lovely, aside from the perfume that she constantly wore. She flopped her head back and let out an exaggerated sigh with a groan, pilling her fur coat tighter against her as she tapped the ashes of her cigarette onto the ground, her wrist hanging quite limply over the door of the automobile. She propped her feet up upon the dash, pulling her pocket watch from the bust of her dress, reading the time.

"Bloody hell it's already one in the morning." Ethel mumbled under her breath, blowing out a puff of her cigarette. She unlocked the door before sliding from her seat, dropping the cigarette to the ground, and snuffing out its faint embers. It was then when a large crack could be heard, and she whipped her head around and looked out at the darkened tree line around her. Nothing was there. It was simply a noise of the night; her sense of hearing was always heightened by the darkness. She could remember being a kid and screaming for her mother because she would hear the house creak ever so slightly, but it had always been nothing. The light flurries of snow began to fall, and she could see them reflected within the headlights. Ethel sighed, turning around to have the dreadful ride back home before the family called the local police or sent one of the butlers after her to bring her on a shameful ride home like a runaway child.

It was within an instant when she felt a harsh grab on the neck of her coat and dress, and she let out a loud shriek before her mouth was abruptly covered. Ethel clawed at the arm that was now around her shoulders with gloved hands, but the thick leather offered nothing against her attacker. That was where the memory became blurred, her falling into the snow, a pair of dark heels standing next to her, then darkness.

She slowly sat up, feeling extremely groggy and exhausted, gazing around with hooded eyes. Nausea quickly kicked it, and it took everything she had in her to choke down the rising bile in her throat as it felt like the world was spinning. She already had minor shivers from her fever, and she cradled herself as she wiped her hand across her forehead. It only took a few moments to realize all of her makeup had already been removed, startling Ethel slightly at her freshly cleaned face having been removed of the makeup that had been carefully and precisely put on for the party.

She took in her surroundings cautiously. The room was quite grand, with a glass coffee table surrounded by red velvet furniture consisting of a sofa, a loveseat, and a few regular sitting chairs. The walls were lavishly decorated with crisp yellow wallpaper with blue detailing, with many paintings. There were a few hand-woven tapestries, and the floor was covered in many differently designed rugs, and underneath it was custom tile flooring. One wall was lined with bookshelves, and a few books were lining the small accent tables that lingered the walls. The coffee table was pristine and clean with a large crystal vase of grand white roses mixed with fresh poppies, looking as if they had just been picked. The ceiling was vaulted with large wooden beams framing it, and the wall moldings were Victorian style, cream-colored to contrast the tile floors. The door handles looked as though they were made of copper and Ethel stared in awe as a maid passed through a door that seemed to open from one of the bookshelves, carrying a China tea set, and placed it silently down on the coffee table. She placed the saucers and cups at opposite sides of the table, before making her way over the Ethel and gently lifting her to her feet. It surprised her at how strong this elderly woman was but was too physically exhausted and ill-feeling to protest, as she was gently placed on the soft velvet of the plush couch. She opened her mouth to thank her but was quickly cut off.