METHOD OF BEDLAM ━ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 ²

𝐢𝐯. 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐢𝐱 ; can't even find an echo

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iv. twenty-six: ❝ can't even find an echo ❞

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: black butterflies and deja vu - the maine

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Somewhere in London

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As the early night settled in, Marianna retired to her room, seeking the solace of her bed. The day's tumultuous events echoed in her mind, and as she lay down, her head began to buzz with a peculiar intensity.

Amidst the quietude of her room, whispers emerged, subtle warnings weaving through the fabric of her thoughts. Aches and pains accompanied the buzzing, creating an unsettling symphony within her consciousness.

Groaning softly, Marianna closed her eyes, attempting to silence the disquieting murmurs. However, unable to endure the persistent buzzing and the weight of the whispers, she decided to escape the confines of her room, venturing into the dimly lit hallway, the shadows playing on the walls as she sought solace elsewhere.

Descending the grand staircase into the chilly estate, Marianna felt the cold drafts that seeped through the cracks left by ongoing renovations. Therese and Richard's hospitality had granted her the freedom to roam, and that night, the mansion became her own.

The absence of maids in sight added to the eerie atmosphere, emphasizing the quietude that enveloped the Clarke estate.

Marianna made her way to the library, a room filled with the scent of old books and the promise of warmth. In the dimly lit library, she spotted a cabinet housing Therese's cherished whisky collection, often reserved for her nephew, Louis.

Without hesitation, she poured herself a generous measure, the amber liquid glinting in the muted light. The quiet rustle of her pouring herself a drink was interrupted by a sudden sound from behind her. Turning around, she found Thomas standing in the doorway, his eyes quietly observing her, taking in the sight of her in her nightgown.

Caught off guard, Marianna paused, a mixture of surprise and vulnerability flickering in her eyes. The dim light accentuated the contours of her face, and the nightgown clung softly to her figure.

Thomas, his gaze lingering, broke the silence, "Couldn't sleep?"

Mar didn't offer a verbal response, choosing instead to motion towards the assortment of alcohol displayed on the library shelves, she asked him, "Do you want a drink?"

Thomas, with a subtle nod indicating his agreement for a drink, allowed himself a moment of levity amidst the somber atmosphere.

A brief chuckle escaped him as he remarked, "Remember those days? You slinging drinks, and I, well..."

"Oh, those were the days, weren't they? I was slinging drinks, and you were taking over the world." She quipped, savoring the bittersweet flavor of their shared history.