I sat up gasping and drenched in cold sweat. George and Count Darke were standing at the foot of the bed I was lying on. George had a towel draped on his left forearm and Count Darke had a cane in his hand.
"Oh good, you're awake," Count Darke said in an annoyed tone.
"Here," George said in an equally irritated voice and tossed the towel onto the bed.
I looked at him in shock and wiped my face with the towel. I put it back on my lap, where it had landed, and realised it was drenched in, not sweat, but blood.
Suddenly, the room turned dark and I was completely blinded. All I could feel was something dripping on my head. Soon enough, my nose was filled with the suffocating scent of blood, my mouth was full of it, and then it had encased me completely. I was running out of air fast. My last breath left my lips and I felt myself leave the blood shell and fall deeper and deeper into a pit of nothing.
"...Miss Cartwright..."
That's strange. I thought I heard Count Darke's voice...
"Miss Cartwright!..."
And there's George's voice too...
"Miss... Cartwright?"
A female voice...
"Devona."
A young man's voice... It seems... familiar...
"Frederick!" I sat up in a jolt of urgency to find Count Darke, George, and a young girl around my age standing beside the bed I lay on, looking on at me with worried eyes. Frederick was nowhere to be found.
"Where's my brother?" I asked them desperately. "I heard him call my name!
"I'm sorry, my dear, it's just us here," Count Darke said apologetically.
"No, it can't be! I heard him, I swear I did!"
"Count Darke is correct, I'm afraid, Miss," George said. "Your brother isn't here."
No! Frederick! How did I hear him then? It couldn't have been my imagination. His voice was so clear, clearer than the others; it was like he was right beside me.
"Devona..."
"There! I heard him again! He called me!" I wept furiously, trying to hold on to my brother's voice.
Count Darke came and knelt down beside me and held my hands in his. "Miss Cartwright, I am truly sorry, but your brother isn't here. Do you understand me?"
I nodded and took deep breaths; in and out, in and out, just like when mother... No, don't think about it.
"Please, Count Darke, call me Devona," I insisted. "It feels better." I turned to George and the girl, "You two as well."
"Very well," Count Darke agreed. "Are you alright here with Emilie while George and I talk outside?"
I nodded.
"Alright then." He stood and walked out the door with George, but not before fixing the girl, Emilie, with a stern look.
"Emilie?" I reached out to the girl. "Who are you?"
"I am Count Darke's maid, Miss Devona," she smiled, took my hand and sat on the bed I lay on.
"Please, just 'Devona'."
"Very well."
"How old are you, Emilie?"
"I am 16 years of age."
"That's not much older than me; I'm 14."
"You're quite right, Devona."
"Is it hard cleaning the castle all by yourself?"
