Deacon's Manor

7 • awakening

"It's hard to wake up from a nightmare if you aren't even asleep." - J.S.

          It was dark. I lay in bed, twisted in the sheets. I could feel the cold sweat building on the top of my brow. I could hear the irritating sound of muffled voices coming from outside my door. I groaned and placed my arm across my forehead. Every sound I heard was so loud yet quiet all at the same time. Soon enough I could make out the conversation being made over by the door. 

          "She hasn't left her room in days."

          "I know. The other day I came to bring her breakfast but she refused to eat anything."

          "Poor thing. What could've made her so sick?"

          "I'm not sure, but she's starting to look a lot like her Aunt just before she passed away. How tragic." 

          "Oh dear, has the doctor come 'round then?"

         "Finderson insists the doctor come and take a look but she refuses any sort of help."

My eyes felt heavy as I attempted to lift my lids. Although there really wasn't a point, my room was so dark. I was weak, but I would not be pitied. I knew I was stubborn, but I also knew that I couldn't move even if I wanted to. It was as if all the energy was sucked dry out of my body. I felt like I was dying. Perhaps the maids outside my door were right. Soon enough I'll be just like my Aunt Agnus. Dead as a door nail. How did everything happen so fast? There was still so much I could never understand. Although, I should have never meddled with things that were well-passed my boundaries of knowledge. 

Yet still, I couldn't help but draw my thoughts back to that man. That evil and twisted man behind the mask. He claimed the manor belonged to him, including me. He threatened me; warned me not to mess with things I couldn't understand. Now here I am, on my literal death bed. Perhaps if I'd listened, I would have been able to move on with my life here. I could've learned so many new skills and activities with all the resources I could ever need. I could have hosted balls and parties with all this land and space. However, I suppose he would still have come for me, even then. Just thinking of the events that had taken place, I almost laughed. The cruel irony. An orphaned girl, poor and struggling to get by in New York City, inherits riches beyond her wildest dreams, only to die a couple months later of an unknown sickness. 

           I heard that wretchedly dark chuckle again. The one that tormented me that whole time. I shifted in the mess of bed sheets and groaned again. I didn't want to deal with him again since my body was so weak. But, I may as well have been paralyzed from the numbness in my limbs. I panted slightly as a sheen of cold sweat gathered over my bare stomach, where my camisole had ridden up. 

I could feel the soft caress of fingers across my forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut and my brows furrowed from the foreign sensation. I was absolutely delirious. Did someone walk into my room earlier? I could've sworn the maids were talking outside my door, not inside my room. And yet, the fingers swept the sweaty dark brown strands of hair that had clung to my forehead. I had to admit, though I wished to have minimal human interaction, the fingers that touched my face gave me comfort. This simple action was enough to cause tears to leak from my closed eyes. I couldn't tell why, but it was as if I just needed this gentleness and comfort in order to have some sense of release. I was alone and in need of whatever company I could get now. 

Slowly my tears would turn to sobs, I choked back air into my lungs. The fingers moved gently down my cheek, and across my neck, following the trails of tears that fell. I could hear shushing in my ears.