The Cursed

Chapter 17

Chapter- 17

I took the first step in, the black fog rolling over my skin with chills. I heard Melawen stagger behind me, stumbling into my back. "Ow!" I tripped on my feet but catched myself, making sure I wouldn't turn around so I wouldn't forget which way was forward or backwards. "Melawen! We just got in here, be more careful!" I said gritting my teeth.

"I'm sorry." Melawen said without sympathy.

"What's it like in there?"

My heart momentarily stopped then remembered it was just Westley. "Hell." I said thinking of only Melawen, not the black smoke.

"Well, blimey, I didn't know you thought of her that way."

"Huh?" I thought back, can he hear everything I'm thinking of?

"Yes, yes I can Reina."

I huffed a breath, walking blindly, hearing only of Melawen's angry grumbles about the darkness and having to be with me.

"Are you mad at me?" Westley asked.

Was I? Or was I mad at Melawen? I slowed my walking, my arms raised in front of my body. "I-- I don't know. Yes?"

Westley didn't respond, silence filled my mind.

"Argh!"

I turned my head stopping. "Was that you?" I asked Melawen.

"I ripped my dresses hem!" Melawen wailed.

I rolled my eyes, "I'm sorry." I said sarcastically. Melawen grunted, I heard her grab handfuls of her dress and started forward again.

We walked in silence, well, mostly. I could tell Melawen was talking to Westley by giggling every so often. I tried getting my mind on something else, I even tried ease dropping on their conversation but they had blocked off their minds. I chewed my lip then felt my eyes suddenly dry. Walking in the blackness made me forget to blink, thinking my eyes were closed the entire time. I staggered on to the cold wall, loosing my step. The breath in my lungs evaporated but I soon filled them with air. Melawen had taken lead of the hall, still having little laughs escape her lips.

I ran my hands on the wet, rocky, wall to give me support and direction also to help find the door but felt none, my mind still on Westley. Was he mad at me? Did he not "like" me anymore?

"I'm sorry to say but I have no mind in that."

I blinked several times then shook me head finding it was Creamfluff. "Why is everyone listening in on my own personal thoughts?"

"They are not personal thoughts if you have not correctly blocked off your apperception. It's as if you are talking aloud."

I scowled, still moving ahead. "What does it look like in there? What's Westley doing?"

Creamfluff didn't answer back until a few seconds passed. "Let me show you."

I waited, in my mind, for me to see what was going on. My eyes started hurting, like an eyelash was stuck poking your eyes. I rubbed them but the pain did not go away. Bright white light flashed my eyes, blinding me, even as I closed them. Colors and shapes soon started to blotch my vision. I was looking from Creamfluff's point of view, seeing everything more clearly, Creamfluff wobbled and hopped over broken or fallen furniture, the lights flickering.The few paintings that hung on the wall stared back at Creamfluff, seeming like they were following him.

"Westley?" I asked.

Creamfluff's head jerked back to Westley, having to look up to see his face. Westley walked in the middle of the flashing hall looking at each door, occasionally snickering. I grunted shoving away Creamfluff's view.