Belladonna

12

I sit in my room at my vanity, swinging my legs and staring in the mirror. Things got boring a while ago, after I stopped acting out scenes from Pride and Prejudice. Yes, I was indeed playing two characters, and although that sounds crazy, it's alright—when you stop resisting your insanity and welcome the chaos, fun times will inevitably follow.

Sighing, I decide I'll have a small, impromptu afternoon nap to pass the time. I don't bother to put away the book, as I will most likely return to it later, flicking through the pages and trying to imagine that I am Elizabeth. Imagining that I'm anywhere away from here.

And while it would be an extremely optimistic thing to not doubt that I'll sleep at all, staring at nothing is still an activity in itself, so I crash upon the duvets.

You shouldn't be here, bored out of your mind.

The word whizzes around my head, helter-skelter.

Damien. ​​​​​​​Damien. ​​​​​​​Damien. ​​​​​​​Damien. ​​​​​​​Damien. ​​​​​​​ Damien.

I struggle to quieten my mind, but when I am finally triumphant, I'm greeted with a mundane sort of peace.

A few seconds of silence and stillness—and then I hear the door open.

Joy upon joys.

"Do leave me alone, Olivia." I mumble into the covers. "I thought you were meant to be cleaning. Or, doing whatever it is you do. I don't know what you even did here before you met me. But I do imagine you are cleaning, since that's a job that hardly anyone would do unless they were being paid. That's why you left me alone with nothing but four walls in the first place." I trail off, frowning at the lack of a lovely response as I sit up. My lips twist into a scowl, and I feel my body stiffen.

Katherine, the woman with a heart of stone, has entered the room, and it's only a matter of time before she kicks my mood while it's already down.

"Afternoon, Arabella."

"Hello."

She doesn't like it when I give her short, curt responses. I know that much already. "What are you doing in here? It's a nice day. We could go out into the—" "No thanks." I interrupt her, shrugging. It's an effort to fight off my glee—she doesn't like it when I interrupt her or when I shrug either. "I'm reading." Both her eyebrows raise slightly, and a part of my ego that once boasted intelligence dies.

"Reading what?" Katherine asks. "Nothing." I say, getting to my feet. I say it all too quickly, and I beat back the enlightenment of my stupidity with a metal crowbar.

I stop where I am, my unwillingness to reveal my interests winning over the itch-like urge to hide the evidence. But then Katherine is moving towards my vanity table like the wind moves across the ocean, and quite frankly, I freeze.

"Pride and Prejudice." Katherine says, a light crease appearing in her forehead as she frowns. "I didn't know you injected such fluffy nonsense into a sharp mind like yours. Romances are really useless to this word as I see it." "Well, I don't see things like you do." I say, sighing through my nose. "And it isn't nonsense; it really isn't." "It's a shame the author is dead." Katherine's lips form a tiny smirk, and my blood boils. "I hear they're trying to change the ending, ensuring that the respectable protagonist does not get married to such a proud weasel as... Mr. Darcy, is that his name?"

"For goodness sake, Katherine, it really is just fiction!" I exclaim, most astonished at the world's need to ruin a perfectly good ending. Upon reaching my table, I make a grab for the book, but Katherine's bony fingers close around my wrist. "If you desire it, I could buy you more books than you've ever seen in one place, Arabella." I draw in a shaky breath, yanking my hand out of her grip. "No!" I tell her. "No, I don't want any of your stupid books—leave me alone." Katherine's gaze hardens, smiling rigidly. "Of course, darling." My anger melts away momentarily when I realise she's going to listen to me.