𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇 𖤓 - 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧.

ÉXI.

JUNE ELEVENTH,
TWO THOUSAND AND SIX.

To say that the journey back home had been agonisingly long was an understatement.

What should've been a twenty-five minute drive at that time of night turned into an hour, because the Chauffeur couldn't locate her residence - the entrance residing in an isolated depths of a forest.

Her parents had situated themselves off-grid compared to all the other estates purposefully, for they hated watchful company. Socialising was optional to them, and they weren't keen on it.

And so, the layout of their mansion proved pointless. Multiple grand dining rooms installed with outstretched tables seating twenty, yet only five of those seats were ever occupied in its entirety.

Then four,

Then three.

And eventually, family dinners had halted. Lyssa and Alistair now ate seperately in their rooms - their mother had stopped accompanying them.

They found that even with one-another's company when eating in these high-ceilinged, uncomfortably spacious rooms, the aero sphere remained monotonous and unpleasant.

Lyssa would despise having an enormous estate to herself. If she were to inherit her childhood home, she'd imagine selling it - and using the money to move into a studio apartment in central london.

It's not like this home of hers had any fond memories tying her conscience to it anyways - if anything, it would feel cathartic to let this place go.

Maybe it would fall into the possession of a family that would learn to love within it, to make the dining rooms not feel so agonisingly empty and soulless.

Lyssa thought it was so painfully ironic, it was funny. Their family name branded as 'Sol' - Sun - yet when she lived within the walls of their family home, it felt as if it were winter permanently.

Astoundingly, Lyssa was glad that she'd attended the party at Saltburn last night - for she felt, even though it was brief, as she was mainly outdoors - what a loved house felt like.

A house filled with endearing occupants, groovy decor and the strain of an unspoken, unwavering aura that made you never want to leave.

Lyssa wished, looking back on it, that she could've remained in the Saltburn Labyrinth for a little longer. The grasslike walls too towering for her to register the ruthless abundance of the rest of the outside world.

Last night it had been only the dampish, bosky surroundings that thrived within the Labyrinth, herself, and Felix.

"Lyssa, where were you last night?" Her mother bludgeoned into the room, titivated in a costly dark green velvet pantsuit, a flute of effervescent champagne positioned between her fingers.

Her stone was stern, yet Lyssa wasn't threatened. This was casual talk between the mother and daughter, permanently standoffish.

"I got mildly carried away at Saltburn last night mother, my apologies."

She hadn't cared to engage in optics with her mothers disgruntled, aged features - instead focusing on reapplying her gold nail lacquer at her vanity.

"You told Craig you'd be home by three! You got home at half five!"

"What does it matter? I'm alive and well - you still have two breathing children."

Lyssa speared her words, hoping that she'd pang a nerve within her mothers' shrivelled heart, but she doubted that she even got close to doing so.