"Like anxious?"

"Ank what now?"

"Anxious." You repeated. By now Emma, Norman, Ray, Don and even Gilda had all stopped to watch the interaction unfold. "It means you get irrational waves of fear or nervousness without any explanation. You might think you're in danger or you might think someone is plotting against you." - it wasn't far from the truth, after all, you were all in danger.

"Ah! Yes! I cant breathe sometimes and my vision gets blurry and I feel like the room spins!"

Nodding, you gave her a hum - only a hum -  before turning back to your plate. "Talk to mama about it. She could maybe make you teas to help calm down."

"You think so?!" No. She would give her more than teas, she would do everything in her power to stop anything that would hinder the health of her perfect little children. Even if it was something like mental health. Brains were rather important - she would never let a virus interfere, would she?

Only one way to find out.

"Yeah. It's best to speak about these things to someone who knows best, after all."

———————————

By the time eight would struck the clock - the ringing sound from the old antic that was the grandfather clock in the library now sounding out across the room, and being heard throughout the house - Isabella would yet again disappear. Tonight, however, you opted to follow her.

With a rapid beating heart and sweaty hands, you watched from beside Norman as the older woman excused herself from the kitchen and left towards the stairs leading to the upper rooms of the house.

You cleared your throat. "I'm going to the bathroom." And you left behind her.

Making sure to stay a few, at least a dozen steps behind her, you craned your neck to see her dress disappear behind the wall of the second floor. When hearing her footsteps echo throughout the corridor above, you quietly rushed to follow.

Your feet had never felt so heavy before, and you weren't sure if it were for the fact that you were sneaking behind the woman's back, or if it was because one wrong step could cause the stairs to creak and your cover to be blown. This anxiety enduring scenario though, never happened.

What did happen was truly worse.

The small celebratory moment of reaching the top of the stairs was cut short when you rounded the corner towards the hallway and were instead met face to face with Isabella, who had opted to kneel down to make the shadow cast over her wide, blown-out eyes look even more terrifying.

No warm smile which she would wear around the younger ones was found on her face. She just stared long and hard, causing your breath to hitch and body to be covered in a cold sweat.

You were frozen.

"We're you following me?" She asked after a silent moment of her merely assessing you. Staring deep into your eyes which she knew - she thought she knew - would speak only but the truth to her. "Sneaking around has never been a good trait."

Gulping, you tilted your head to the side - albeit rigidly. "What do you mean, Mama?" - the name was like poison on your tongue. So sweet for such a monster. "I was only going to the bathroom." You pointed to the slightly ajar door of the dark room.

She turned her head to look at it as you pointed, staying in place for another, excruciating, silent minute. For a moment you thought she could see through you, that she would turn and laugh straight at your face before dragging you off towards the gates where you would meet a similar fate to your passed siblings - if not more gruesome.

But those were only anxieties talking, that was evident when her shoulders loosened and her face turned back to you with that same warm smile you had grown to know on her. "Ah, my apologies then. Do you want me to wait for you while you finish?"

You shook your head. "No thank you. Emma and Norman are waiting for me downstairs, so I'll be quick."

"I see. Have fun then, and be sure to tidy up before bed time, alright?"

You smiled at the woman as she allowed you to head to the bathroom. Switching the light on and standing beside the door. "Yes mama!" A final, wide grin was on your face as you shut the door in front of you.

When the click of the lock sounded out and you were certain there would be no way she could barge in, you fell to your knees. Tears lined the lashes of your eyes and the world began to turn - you were suddenly remembering what Emilia had spoken about in the dinner table and you couldn't help but find this all ironic.

The world sounded so loud yet so quiet at the exact same time. Breathing becoming a difficult task and the beating organ in your chest feeling like it was just about ready to tear it's way out of your body. You were suddenly hyper aware of your surrounding, fear becoming evident at the possibility of danger. If you turned around now, would there be a monster behind you? Would you also be drained of life with a single red flower slurping your body thoroughly of your blood? Would your face be forever sketched into an expression of horror just like everyone else?

Were you really foolishly selfish enough to think you'd ever get to live a peaceful life in a cottage? You were only a kid!

You realised; this is not something normal. This place was not normal and neither you, nor the others in this house were normal. For mama to have taken such good care of you all until your dying moments must mean that you're of high value - after all, you could be treated like dying pigs and cows. Tied up with no interactions, no sun or games to play, no toys that you'd get to pick on your birthdays if you had been good.

Though this place was living hell, obvious with the fact you were having an anxiety attack inside the safety of the bathroom walls, you were still something precious to that woman - even if it wasn't family. So that must mean you can push your privileges here. Perhaps you can't leave, not yet at least, but perhaps you can try to pry your way into important information. But how far could you overstep the boundaries before she truly starts to notice and take action against you?

Was it truly smart to be the only person conscious of the deeper meaning of your home?

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