Darkness consumed it all. The Girl was running, with no direction, no destiny or place in mind. Leaves crunched beneath her feet. Heart pumping, her pulse had spiked up, she was panting, her throat closing up. Water had run scarce a long time ago, no refuge to be seen nearby. She was being chased by someone whose intentions were unknown. All the Girl knew was that she had to go away. Run, he had desperately said. And so she did. The path was filled with obstacles, and she kept stumbling on her feet. She went on regardless. A small and dimly lit house appeared in the middle of nowhere, granting her to a halt. Going up the porch steps, the Girl's fist banged the door.
"Help! Please help me!" she begged, "Somebody wants to hurt me, please open the door!".
A light went on near the left window, and the clear rattle of latches being unlocked could be heard. Relief washed over her body, feeling hopeful that these people would take her in for the night.
"Hello, dear", said a gentle voice, with a heavy accent, "what are you doing up so late at night?"
"I am so sorry to bother you, ma'm, but I need a place to stay for the night, and there doesn't seem to be any town nearby" the words came out in a rush, as she was struggling to catch her breath.
"Oh, there's no trouble at all, darling. Come, come now, we were getting ready to have diner" she said and then opened the door.
Dinner? Well, this is an odd time to eat, the Girl thought to herself. She didn't have a watch with her, but she was certain that the moon had lead her way as she escaped. Something called her attention as the person, or rather say, the woman, fully opened the door to let her inside. She had pale skin and long coal-coloured hair, dressed as if going to a funeral... one in the 1800's. Black gloves reached to her elbows, with a matching dress, made of a lacy material that went to the floor. With sharp features and high cheekbones, the woman looked like Morticia Addam's twin. But what struck the Girl the most were the scarlet, bottomless eyes. Almond shaped, and no pupil to be seen. A rush of uneasiness ran through her veins. The woman was smiling, though, waiting for the guest to come forward.
There is no smoke without fire, a voice whispered in her head.
The woman, clearly sensing the Girl's hesitation said, "Oh, don't be ashamed, there's plenty of food for everyone. The boys eat like beasts" she chuckled, "By the way, my name is Clarissa, what's yours honey?"
"I, uh, my name is Marysse. Marysse Witchwood".
"Well, Marysse", the way Clarissa pronounced her name, stretching out the s sound, made her squirm. They must be foreigners, Marysse thought, "there is no need to stand there, please come on in. After all, they say that at night it is when they come", and with that, the woman winked and left her at the door.
Marysse considered making a run for it. Clarissa seemed creepy enough, and she was not looking forward to meeting the boys. But what choice did she have? Whatever was following her had clearly stopped as soon as she climbed the steps to the house, but Marysse could feel that they were nearby.
Grounding herself, she plodded toward the entrance of the house. She had just stepped inside when the door clicked shut behind her. With a yelp, Marysse turned, alarms going off in her head, but she decided against saying anything. At least, she told herself, I have a roof over my head. I am not going to miss the boat. It could be worse, she chided herself.
"We are over here, darling." Clarissa called "Come and meet the rest of the clan".
Following the sound of the woman's voice, Marysse found her way to what seemed to be the dining room. A gawk expression was permanently fixed on the girl's face, as she admired her surroundings. The ceiling laid high, supported by strong marble pillars carved into the walls. Deep-purple curtains were draped along the length of the windows, no artwork or plants to be seen. A stunning crystal chandelier commanded the attention of the room, and the girl felt as if she were outside in a hot summer picnic, as there was no corner of the place left in the dark. In the centre, there was a long wooden table, with a white tablecloth, no food to be seen whatsoever, and five chairs. What struck her the most was the ancient-like aspect they had, with soft-looking cushions and a bulky structure, As if they came from a different century, she thought...
A sudden movement caught her eye, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickling up. Marysse turned her head to the side to find a pair of mossy-green eyes peering down at her. Again, they were pupil-less as Clarissa's. The girl concluded that they must like contacts and dressing up, as the guy before her was dressed in the same colour palette as the hostess, with a see-through blouse, stylish leather pants and ankle boots, teamed with a long velvet cape that rested on his right shoulder. His face, she observed, was one that belonged to Vouge Magazine, with fair, angular features to spare and a set of deep eyes that made hers glaze. She realized that a slow smile was spreading on his thin lips, and there was a beat of silence, as if they were expecting her to reply something.
"I, uh- sorry what?" Marysse stuttered.
"Would you like something to drink, baby doll?" the boy, who appeared to be in his late teens drawled, "we have some special beverages this evening: Bloody Mary, Bitter Bite and- my personal favourite- Raspberry Craneberry." His smirk grew as he enumerated the options, and Marysse couldn't help but feel the urge to gag at those odd cocktail names. The accent that tainted his every word was as thick as Clarissa's, who was staring at them with bemused eyes.
"Is there any water? I am so sorry, but I didn't realize how thirsty I am with all that- um- all that-" a violent cough rose in her throat, interrupting her raspy and confused speech. Suddenly, it seemed as if the room was turning, her mind fogging. She couldn't remember why, either I imagined it, Marysse thought, or boy's eyes are gleaming, and are now a bright, neon green.
"Are you all right, sweetheart?" asked the woman.
"I think I need to lay down for just a second" said the girl.
"You must be dehydrated, come, come, please have a seat. Magnus, please bring Marysse a glass of water".
"But father said-", protested the teen, but was immediately cut off by his mother.
"Your father is not here right now, is he?" replied Clarissa with some hostility.
"As you wish, mother", and off he went. Marysse thought that he vanished into thin air, of course, she blamed it on the dehydration.
Needing the distraction, she asked, "Is there anybody else home?"
"Not at the moment, no. But we are expecting my husband any time soon now. He ran out to get some- uh- errands", the near unconscious girl noticed that Clarissa caught herself on the last word, but she let it go. As it was, she did not have the energy to deal with the weird things going on.
Marysse felt how, little by little, her mind was surrounding to the desire to rest and lay down on the comfortable blade- no wait! Bed! Clearly she had to be losing her spine, mind! The girl would kill to relax and have a warm, bloody bath... bubble bath!
What is wrong with me? she wondered.
Out of the blue, she remembered something. A memory... or was it a warning? It seemed like ages ago. Her head hurt. Her whole body hurt. A sudden flash came to her mind. A hand. A boy.
"Run!" he had desperately said. "Run Marysse! Don't stop until you reach town! They are going to try to catch you! Please don't let them. Be smart. I love you.". Before she could process what had happened, another flash came, and this time, it was a familiar sight. They were scarlet and yearning, with long and dark lashes. Silently and steadily, they were approaching her immobile limbs. Nothing she screamed or shouted at them made them hesitate. Closer and closer they came, making her whimper with uneasiness, demanding her complete and utter attention, compelling her, swallowing her whole-
A soft cry left her lips, her eyes batting open. Marysse tried to move, but she felt bound to a soft, but rigid structure. Strong ropes were tightly wrapped around her limbs, the chairs, she realized. There was a stinging sensation around her forearm, and that was when she noticed the needle struck there. Horrified at the thought to even formulate the words, she focused on the slow moan coming from across the... table. A figure sat there, as upright as she was. It struck to her that she knew him. Shaggy brown hair, with chocolate eyes full of sorrow, his dark complexion resembled to that guy in her dream. No, it wasn't a dream, she told herself, it was real.
"What's happening?" she asked, her voice as dry as a desert.
On that cue, a shadow appeared in the now dark room. As dark as a tomb, she observed.
"Ah well, I see that you are awake" the somber voice announced, "it is time to start the feast then. Clarissa, my love, would you do the honors?".
Those scarlet and bottomless eyes were rapidly approaching with fierce desire.
"I told you to run", was the last thing she heard, before darkness consumed it all.
