Tick tock goes the clock,
Until this Manor is
No more
Will the mouse
Find a way out?
Free of guilt;
Oh, safe and sound?
Time is running out, detective.
Angel Mallory has always been unlucky. Seemingly retired from their old job working for the Guil...
Author's Note: Truly sorry for the delay— I've been very caught up in school work. Also, the chapter is a little shorter this time, but still, a lot of things happen that you shouldn't miss out on!
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I shuddered, wrapping my hands around myself. Betrayal tasted foul, acrid on my tongue. Mary Clementine spared me a sorry glance, handing me a cup of chamomile tea. At that moment, I could only think of how much I despised it. Both the chamomile and myself; for not picking up on her deceipt sooner.
The chair groaned under my weight, the wood yielding. My eyes flicked around the workshop, landing on the mechanic every so often. The tension was almost palpable- both of us wanted to say something; the void of silence was so empty. Yet, I couldn't speak. My voice was dead, stolen. A choked-up sound escaped me- I had never wanted to speak so badly. To complain, to whine, to rage. I missed it, and this new feeling in its place had started to suffocate me.
Emptiness.
Quiet.
Silence.
My eyes widened. Something was missing. Something was out of place.
Quiet.
So quiet.
I murmured something into my palm, wracking my brain to remember. I should have been able to.
"Angel? You look like you've just seen a ghost? Last I checked we weren't haunted" Mary Clementine chuckled, taking a sip out of her own glass. I kept staring ahead, unfazed. "You're scaring me, did you hear something?"
"No... I didn't." I murmured, realisation settling into me. "I can't hear it- Clam, why can't I hear it?" I froze, my lips clasping in a desperate fumble. Shooting up, I pushed my chair back.
"Wait," she passed me a concerned look, straining to hear a noise we both knew all-too-well.
We rushed down there, the creaking of stairs and cobwebs passing us by like a flash of muddy colours and concrete grey. I slammed the door open, my voice a gurgle in my throat. Dust exploded from the handle of the door and I coughed, rubbing my eyes.
Mary Clementine's steps came to a halt, and I heard her breath audibly catch. I turned, dread dropping like a heavy boulder in my stomach, my heart rate spiking.
The counter had been ripped off.
**** **
"Come on, don't be like this. It's not like this changes anything-" Clam tried, a slight tremble in her tone. She scratched the back of her head, her gaze lifting from the floor to mine.
"It changes everything Clam!" I snapped, my lungs heaving for air. An anxious shake took over my palms and I flinched, oblivious to how loud I'd yelled. "It means I don't know- I don't remember how long we have-"
"You can. I believe in you" she murmured sheepishly.
"I don't believe in myself." I argued, more softly this time. "There's few people who'd know where it was- even fewer that know we've contacted the cops," I took in a raging breath, shaking with adrenaline "Crap."
