The Mystical's Whisper

Chapter Thirteen: Lueraunt.

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Chapter Thirteen: Lueraunt. 

Despite earlier taking the moments before I almost killing my father and two other men as my last- I could hear faint voices curiously chattering and giggling around me, as my conscious mind slowly started creeping back into reality. More comfortable than before, I could tell I was in a bed, with a cold, damp towellettes draped over my forehead- as one pair of feet scurried around whilst the other women continued on- obviously intrigued by the new house guest.

“Shhh…” an older voice scolded.

 “You’ll wake the duchess!”

“She’s so gorgeous though Edna… Don’t you think?” Another enthused, trying to evoke some conversation from the one, who was constantly pacing. Although one other girl agreed and elaborated on what she thought my best features were, another merely scoffed.

“More like dangerous… She almost Master Debaucheur…”

The forth voice gulped loudly at the after-thought.

 “Agnes does have a point… Are we really needed Edna?  We’ll just be in the way…” she wavered.

 Stomping towards the bed, the woman in charge hovered over me, close to where the girls were.

“For the very last time NO!” she spat.

 “Now, enough! The lot of you! She is the master’s daughter and you shall tend to her with utmost respect. This means: no more gossip-monging and certainly no more derogative remarks!” Although her voice was hushed, she spoke with conviction and the others soon fell silent.

In spite of the one in charge coming to my defence, I felt a pang of hurt at the remark the one girl made about me almost killing my father…

They thought I was a monster…

Maybe I am. In fact, I didn’t know who I was anymore, nor what was happening to me. But one thing was certain- everyone else did.

Although I wanted to before, I only gathered enough strength to open my eyes for the first time as I felt cold slender fingers un-doing my bra.

“What do you think you are doing!?” I bit out in a sleepy, venomous tone; scowling at the round youthful face of a girl with freckles, and light blue eyes- who looked at me, terrified.

“Ed... Ednaa!!!” She began wailing as tears filled her eyes.

“No, no!! Please.. I won’t hurt you!” I cooed- as I recalled her wavering voice from before.

But the damage was done.

 Hiccuping between sobs and incoherent apologies- her red curls bounced off her shoulders- as she ran towards a heavy set woman that had her hair up in a tight bun, and wore the same attire as the sobbing girl. Looking like stereotypical 20th century maids I almost laughed at the sight. Only in St. Petersburg people would make ‘help’ wear outfits as ridiculous. Like concept of ‘help’ not being pretentious enough in itself…

Showing little sympathy to the young maid who was still quietly weeping after having a few hushed words with her in the corner of the room, the larger woman ushered her back to her post.

“I’m sorry…. you just startled me…” I tried again- as she returned still hiccuping, patting her lightly on the shoulder. But the gesture made her jump back wide-eyed like I electrocuted her, and she stopped sobbing almost instantly.