Phantom Chained

Chapter 29. Infernal monstrosity. Ingrid.

The damp sunrise oozed through the broken window with a morning fog, setting into numerous drops against shards of glass sticking out of the rotting frame. Most of the window was now on the floor, reminding me of Clara's viciousness. She shook me to my very core; I wouldn't be caught dead in the abandoned fishing hut in the dead of night otherwise. She did, however, let me go but only to get her some clothes. "Quick, my deary, quick! Or I shall get them myself, and then you will be sorry! I promise you that!"

I believed her; I even made sure to return before sunrise. I raced through the soggy road, almost falling into a ditch at one point from being in such a hurry... who wouldn't be when an infernal monstrosity promised a slow and painful death if you disobeyed?

Numb from the bitter cold, I drearily paced along the wall, not wanting to risk sitting down on the floor. It wasn't because it was covered in dirt and dead vegetation that was carried in from the forest through a long empty door frame. It was just safer to be standing so I could run through the said door frame in case of an emergency.

The sunrise made Clara even more terrifying, shining right through her and the lacy tunic dangling off her skinny body didn't do much to help with that.

The walking anatomy model has been digging in my pile of clothes for well over thirty minutes, throwing pieces aside one after another. And constantly whining. She whined and complained, never shutting up for more than a few seconds at a time. Even now, stepping over the skirt that just slid down her legs, she mockingly asked:

"And just where could the gloves be?"

"Take mine," I stretched my hands out.

"Oh, that simply won't do!" Clara stated capriciously. "Yours are way too rough, I require evening gloves. And pantyhose! And a petticoat! Did you bring me these utterly gaudy clothes on purpose?"

'Look who's talking.' I thought to myself but actually said: "Sorry, that's all I found. I don't have a burka lying around. No scuba helmet either."

"How dreadful!" Clara exclaimed. The skin on her face was even thinner than on her body, so I could clearly see how her tongue flopped around behind the bouncing jaw. "Where is the brimmed hat?"

"I don't have one." I sighed. "We don't wear those types of hats during winter. Even during summer you rarely see them. They went out of fashion."

"It appears that people themselves have gone out of fashion." Clara replied venomously. "So what do you call this?"

She shoved a red clump of fabric in my face

"Answer me!"

"Sweater!" I quickly replied, backing up to the log wall.

"It's a sack! A square sack that makes burlap look exquisite! A quadratic mockery of aesthetics!"

"Listen, Clara!" I barely spit out before I had to dodge yet another jab. "You wanted to look like a normal person and not stand out. I can't even fathom what century you crawled out of but today everyone wears clothes like that!" I couldn't hold my emotions in anymore; I was cold, I was afraid and insulted, not to mention utterly exhausted. People have limits. "You can just rob a museum if you so desire... or a theatre, they should have everything you want. But I've done everything that you asked me to, so stop tormenting me already!" At that point, I was nearly yelling at the top of my lungs.

Clara froze.

She stood completely still, her round white eyeballs focusing the golden-brown irises on me. Nearly a whole minute passed before she came alive with a different, raspier voice: "Do not dare!"

She raised her hands to the level of her shoulders, her bony fingers gripping the thick fabric. A loud ripping noise filled the room. Clara was now holding two halves of what used to be a sweater.