Mr. Spice & Everything Nice

Chapter Two

chapter warnings: attempted self-harm and desire for an object to inflict self-harm.

there is also discussion/implication of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, however this is almost a blink-and-you'll-miss-it as it is heavily implied rather than stated outright. please read carefully.

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The trek back to the mansion somehow felt longer than the trek to the river. I didn't say that out-loud, but Dill seemed to share my thoughts, as he complained vocally about it.

The other two ignored him. I'd learned their names were Saffron and Ginger. Saffron was the brunet who had ripped my shirt open, and Ginger was the quieter one, who stood back and watched.

"You don't need to be afraid," Saffron said, trying to interpret my silence. I glanced at him as we walked, noticing his slight favour to his left leg. "We've all been in your position before. Although I suppose to a different extent for each of us. None of us arrived here in the same way, we all come from backgrounds that challenged us and..." He hesitated, gentle eyes flickering to Dill and Ginger before landing on me. "Some of us come from loving families, but that doesn't mean we have less of a right to struggle."

Dill snorted at that, giving Saffron a deadpan look. "Some of us come from loving families. Some of us come from the pits of Hell itself. See if you can guess who comes from where."

"It isn't a competition, Dill," Saffron chided.

"I know better than anyone that it isn't a competition, Saffron." Dill gave him a hard stare that Saffron returned. I wondered who would cave first, and was only mildly disappointed when it was Saffron, who winced as he tripped over a stone.

Ginger, who had been walking close in front of us, turned to steady him with a hand to his shoulder. Even Dill's glare melted away when Saffron stumbled, and his eyes cast downwards briefly. Saffron caught the look with a small scowl.

"Don't."

"I did not—"

"It's fine."

Dill's own face marred with a scowl as he closed his mouth. The entirety of the interaction confused me, but I kept that to myself as we finally escaped the forest. The mansion loomed above us, and it took me a moment to remember where I was. As soon as I did, my eyes cut to the courtyard, my heart seizing – the carriage was gone, as was Uncle Felix.

Clenching my teeth together, I took a single step backwards. He was gone. He had truly left me here. My eyes stung something terrible, but I refused to let the moisture turn to tears.

Ginger caught my eye, his hand still wrapped tight around Saffron's upper-arm, and it looked as though he wanted to say something, maybe try to comfort me in some way, but I knew there was little he, a stranger, could say to ease this kind of ache. Ginger seemed to realise as much, too. He ducked his head, tugging on Saffron's arm, and the four of us walked around the front of the mansion to the steps leading to the front door.

I did my best to not look over my shoulder at the empty courtyard, or the wrought iron gate that was now shut, destroying any hope of freedom. My fingernails curled into my palms, cutting into the sensitive skin, and I drew my attention to the plaque to the left of the door as a distraction.

The first words were etched in gold:

Mr Spice

Below that was another sentence – or half a sentence. It looked as though someone had taken to it with a knife: