Escape

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"Prophet of evil I ever am to myself: forced for ever into sorrowful auguries that I have no power to hide from my own heart, no, not through one night's solitary dreams."

―Bram Stoker

―Bram Stoker

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Absentmindedly, yet forcefully, Elek rasped his fingers against the fallboard of his piano. It was an irritated sort of movement, like a cat swishing its tail to and fro. It wasn't deliberately drawing attention to the emotion, yet it conveyed it all the same. His mouth was squeezed shut, like he'd eaten a lemon, his eyes narrowed and pensive. The hand that wasn't currently drumming against the poor piano was clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Elek? Did you hear me? And for god sake please stop that infernal rasping."

The ominous voice that bellowed somewhere beyond his psyche retrieved him from his own thoughts. His head snapped up to meet the eyes of his mother. Who had at long last spoke after a good and healthy pause had hung in the air, in her opinion, a bit too long. He cleared his throat before responding.

"But, I've never even met her mother."

The woman that called herself his mother further stiffened, her body language indicating her displeasure at her son's words.

"That is neither here nor there. This issue isn't up for debate. I suggest you make one last trip to those godforsaken parties you so love to attend, for soon you'll be a married man."

The words "married" hung in the air thickly, and to Elek, they also smelled a bit like death. He swallowed consciously. He knew that there was no sense in trying to dissuade his parents, especially his mother. He also knew he lacked the backbone to do so, and he was almost positive, that his mother had counted on that fact alone.

"I understand."

He choked the words out after another pregnant pause had elapsed between them. Satisfied, his mother briskly turned, and left her son alone in the drawing room.

Elek's family had "money", not so much the currency itself, but rather the title of it. They lived in a large estate which was decked out in the century's past fashion with its stately appearance, dual towers, and large and managed courtyard. He had grown up with tutors, grounds-men, servants, and frequent visits from noble gentlemen and ladies. His education was well-rounded and deeply engrained, his manners impeccable. He kept his hair coiffed (although it was naturally quite unruly) and his clothes tidy and fashionable.

However, despite the appearance, his family was in a sizeable amount of debt. Elek had been told (numerous times by his different relatives) that the downfall of their linage had lied with their great-grandfather, who had had several daughters. All of which, had required quite large sums to marry off, and had effectively dwindled their wealth. Elek, however, knew the real problem had lied with his great-grandfathers nasty gambling habit. But, did it truly matter anyways? The point was, they were effectively broke. And Elek was the one they had chosen to be their sacrifice.

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