A House of Lies

~ Chapter 3 ~

After I finished collecting my supplies in the bag, I glanced around my room to make sure I hadn't missed anything. My eye caught on the bag I had found earlier. I walked towards it, curious as to what could be inside. While opening it, I noticed how threadbare it was. It must be quite old to be this ragged, I thought. Rummaging through it, I found things like masks, decorated hand mirrors, and more old pieces of cloth. The results were disappointing, but I was too far into the bag to stop searching. When I finally reached the very back of the bag, there sat a small purse holding something heavy. It once had been covered with what seemed to be smooth leather, however now it was old and torn, leaving strips of the dry brown skin on my clammy hands. I slowly untied it, fighting the solidity it had gained over the years. 

The inside of the bag was lined with fur, somehow soft even after god knows how many years of being inside that small carrier.

Buried in the fluff, sat a necklace. It was composed of multiple silver chains, all connecting to a large circular rose gold locket. Small holes were poked in the case in a pattern of a deep scarlet rose and a fine line outlined outer area of the locket.

I lifted it out of the purse and took a closer look at it. It was hard to see, even with the light shining on it, but I saw that there was one word written in the center of it. Engraved in the center in careful handwriting, was the name Byron. That was my last name.

I had seen many precious antiques, and this definitely was one. Not just a regular one, like your grandmas favorite vase.

This was definitely something that came from an important person, maybe just someone wealthy.

I held it out, and studied it as it sat in my palm, cold and slightly rusty. Who could it have belonged to?

I knew my mom was from Europe. Cool, sure everyone comes from someplace. But maybe coming from an important, or wealthy family could get me finally noticed by people.

I could imagine someone noticing it, and telling me that it was an important heirloom. Everyone would look at me differently. I wouldn't just be the girl who sat at the edge of the table reading a book.

And it wasn't just a regular old ugly necklace. It was beautiful and rustic. A lot of my outfits needed a finishing touch. I couldn't find anything anywhere. This was perfect.

I tightened it around my neck and looked at myself in the mirror of my bedstand. Except I wasn't myself anymore. My skin was paler, and instead of the navy blue jacket and white cropped tee I was wearing a long maroon dress. Frills erupted from my sleeves, which hung loose. My eyes were larger, and much more alert-looking in comparison to my usual narrow, Asian ones. My hair fell in waves over my shoulders and I looked almost regal. The same necklace sat round my neck. I could've sworn her mouth opened and dropped the words "Ne menj el. Meg fogod bánni.." But after a blink, I was back to myself. The necklace gleamed in the light coming out of my window but something felt sinister about it. I dropped the necklet on the counter, and glanced back at the mirror. Something was wrong. 

Something was VERY wrong.