CHAPTER SIX . . . whispers in your head
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"I CANNOT BELIEVE I AM DOING THIS." Persie declared for perhaps the seventh time that day. They were currently walking along a train platform, watching as the train carried on towards its final destination.
The three others with her started trekking to the bridge. They needed to get a move on if they were going to arrive at the Hall on time. George was kind enough to wait for her as she took in her surroundings. It had been a long time since she'd seen the countryside, and sadly it brought back memories Persie would rather forget.
"You've been saying that since you arrived at the house," Lockwood said ahead of her, not bothering to turn around as he held his bags. Truth was, she'd been saying it long before then. Since she woke up in fact.
George was busy looking at the landscape instead. Focusing on how there was more grass than brick around them. "There's a lot of green!" He asserted over the overly loud sounds of the train moving.
Persie marvelled at the sight before her.
Just because she didn't like to relieve the lonely memories; didn't mean she didn't love the feel and smell of the fresh open air.
"Never been outside of London, George?" Lockwood questioned, all three of them eventually walking down the steps of the opposite side of the bridge.
"I visit my gran in Sidcup." The Karim boy pointed out. Making Persie laugh a little at how he had very poor geographical knowledge.
Because Lockwood was quick to correct him. "Sidcup is in London." They watched the train go past as they made it to the other platform. The noise was agonisingly loud, but soon it would be gone.
"Then you have your answer." He declared, focusing on the path in front of him while Persie was walking slower behind them all. It wasn't often she got to see a view like this, so she was taking it all in. Poor Fern was missing a lot. "Doesn't look like I've missed much."
She wanted to clap back at the foolish boy then and there, calling him a cold-hearted fiend. Only true monsters hated a landscape as naturally beautiful as this.
Lockwood was more interested in their employer though. And how much publicity they were going to get after this job. "I can't believe we're going to Sir John Fairfax's house." He marvelled, almost daydreaming.
The Harrow girl scoffed at that. Who would've guessed that he'd be John Fairfax's biggest fan? Her. Because for all of the four years she'd known him, he'd been obsessed with becoming someone as well known as Fairfax. Hoping to eventually become a local legend.
It was safe to say he still hadn't gotten that far yet.
Even Lucy picked up on his fangirling. "You've got a real hard-on for him, haven't you?" She mocked. Because it was that easy to make fun of him.
Persie saw how George struggled with his back, moving forward over to the right so she could help him put the shoulder strap over his arm. Soon stepping back when it was sorted. And accepting a small nod of thanks from George.
"If you wanna put it like that." Lockwood remarked, trying to establish why he had such a 'hard-on' for one of England's most prolific aids to the Problem. "No, he's succeeded in everything he's tried. Publishing, show business. You know, he didn't even start smelting until he was in his thirties. And now look at him."
To be honest, he did have a point. Sir John Fairfax was Society's standard male role model of the century, well, besides Tom Rotwell. But all Persie saw was a man hiding behind power, money and the sweat of those working under him. They helped forge his fortune. But perhaps she was biased because of her own dealings with those fortified by wealth and an overbearing sense of superiority.
Two years had been just enough to settle her mind on the matter.
"And he came from nothing too." Lockwood finished, only it wasn't strictly true. Money buys a lot of things, and it was obvious that it had given a helpful shove to Sir John Fairfax and his long list of career endeavours.
So George's interjection was an appreciated move. "Nah, he's old money." He said, dodging a woman standing close to him, the same woman giving Persie an odd look as she watched the girl walk quite a distance away from her peers. "And you have a massive house in central London."
Truth was, Persie was dreading the job. Not because she was scared, she'd been scared of ghosts before and long since sworn to never let them control her or lock her. Ghosts had taken enough from her. They were not going to be allowed to take her mind as well.
She soon zoned out of the conversation as she examined her duffle bag. Its contents were haphazardly thrown inside - Fern - and beneath the iron knives and long thin silver chain that she'd inherited, and had taken on every mission, there was a bright pink lunchbox. With a note? The writing was too neat for Fern or her sister, but she recognised the familiar cursive lettering of Mrs Drake's familiar left-handed work.
'Good luck on your trip! Here's some snacks! I
want this lunchbox empty when you get back, and
make sure to share with your friends!'
Love, N. D. xx
Fern's mum always knew the route to someone's heart, their stomach. If only it had worked on her second husband, who was a right arse for not appreciating her talents not only in the kitchen but also in the field as an ex-agent. Nina Drake was a formidable opponent, and she'd struck gold when she married her first love. But gold has a way of melting like a heart does when it is scorched by the world.
But that was a story for another day. And it wasn't hers to tell.
Not noticing where she was going, Persie almost walked into an elderly couple that was walking in the opposite direction. She soon apologised, receiving two apologies from them as well, but she quickly decided that it was her fault and not there's. Giving them a smile she stopped and began searching for her entourage as they were no longer in front of her.
So she did a quick back trek until she noticed a doorway leading off the platform and the station altogether. Quickly jogging through as she noticed the three waiting for her, along with another woman sitting in a roofless car.
Persie sighed as she saw the smug look on Lockwood's face. He was intentionally trying to get rid of her. But she wasn't going anywhere. Unfortunately, if those three were going into the belly of the beast, they'd have to drag her with them because she wasn't leaving their side.
Her career depended on this.
A fact that she replayed in her mind as she finally came to be beside them. Staring directly into Lockwood's eyes, hoping more than anything that she didn't lose her nerve and look away. "Let's get this over with." She breathed out, throwing her duffle bag into the boot of the car and getting in the backseat.
And soon they were en route to their demise. But Persie couldn't help the curiosity that spiked in her veins, it fuelled her. Only she had to be careful; curiosity killed the cat.
"WELCOME TO COMBE CAREY HALL. You're late." A male voice said as they stood inside the severely haunted house. A house that had the appearance of innocence but the foreboding aura and stench of death. It clung to its walls like old wallpaper and cobwebs that lingered in high ceiling corners. This place wasn't a house, it was a mausoleum. It chilled Persie to the bone. "And you've brought along another one."
The Harrow girl felt pressure against her skull like a finger was tapping away at it, knocking upon an imaginary door. More like hundreds. All the ghosts of this house were begging for her attention. Yet, if she opened the door for one, countless others would follow until her mind was swarming with dead things.
First rule of solving a haunting; don't hesitate at the threshold. Because once you start to let doubt creep in, you're done for. You're lost to the ghosts before you've even started, just a plaything for them to toy with, to tear apart and put back together, over and over again.
So Persie drowned out the tapping, and the scraping, and focused on what she came to do. Her job.
The four of them followed behind Fairfax - because of course he was there to make sure they didn't screw up - and his assistant as he ordered them about. Telling them about where certain things were located, the stories of the house. Especially about the suicidal monks that had a penchant for praising satan and all things evil, rather than the usual boring schtick.
Persie watched as the sun began to set, whispering in her mind her usual goodbyes to the big gas giant star in hopes she'd once again emerge somewhat intact to see it rise again. Some things never change, and she didn't show any sign of wanting them to. Well, certain things, there were still some things she desperately wanted back to the old ways.
But life isn't like false words of wisdom on a fortune cookie.
She was soon pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of Fairfax's assistant's voice, Persie really needed to get better at retaining important information like people's names. "Mr Lockwood has broken the deal," the young woman declared, "he brought a bomb flare."
Idiot. Anthony Lockwood was a bloody idiot. Something Persie kept stupidly forgetting about.
And of course, Fairfax had to be a controlling, bag-searching bastard, who refuses to get his own hands dirty. He reminded her too much of her grandfather, a man more dead inside than a hollowed-out corpse.
But like every stone-cold bastard, Fairfax had intentionally made himself a loophole. Even if that did mean he had the right to search through their property. No matter how annoying it was.
"We'll leave you to work. It's a little late for us to be in this house safely." Fairfax said, trying to squirm away like the useless rat he was. "Through there, you'll find the Screaming Staircase. It'll take you around to the Red Room, which is the most likely site of the primary source." Persie looked over towards where he'd pointed, but strangely she couldn't hear anything. Not even a hushed whisper. "We'll be back in the morning. I trust you have everything you need to take it from here?
Persie stalked closer to the staircase, not noticing Fairfax's odd look towards her, more focused on trying to understand why she couldn't sense anything from it. Everything else in the house was scratching at her, making her skin crawl. But there was absolutely nothing coming from the stairs, and that unnerved her more than anything in this house ever could.
"I'm sure we'll be fine," Lockwood answered, squinting his eyes at the old man, not liking how he was looking at Persie. There was nothing wrong with the man's stare, but for some reason, the young man didn't trust it one bit.
But fortunately for them, Fairfax soon left. Leaving the four young agents alone in what could aptly be titled 'England's Most Haunted Estate'. Leaving them with just a wish of good luck, although they very much doubted he meant it.
They prepared while they waited for it to get severely dark. Lockwood and George got the important stuff out of the bags, packing the smaller stuff in their belts and pockets. While Lucy and Persie were getting a feel for the place. It was odd for either girls to be working with another listener, truth be told their talent was becoming rarer as the days go by.
Most chose to be sensitives, too afraid to fight the voices that invaded their minds, and for a short time, Persie had given herself a taste of that life. Obviously, she'd chosen another fate.
The sound of laughter filled their ears, glasses clinking together. Echoes of lives well lived, of champagne and fine dining, of the rich and luxurious. But behind those illusions, Persie could hear the crying, could imagine the tears that streamed down their faces as they hid behind their clever charades. She knew it was only in her head though because if there was one thing Persephone Harrow could no longer do, it was cry.
And it was like a switch had been flicked because soon the crying turned to screaming. Desperation weighed on her tongue as if she was underwater, begging to open her mouth to let out the screams that plagued her. That ached her bones. It wouldn't stop. They were running, smashing everything in their path, but then it all fell silent.
The screams had ceased. Because the life behind them had been extinguished. Blown out like a candle near an open window on a cold windy night.
It wasn't until Persie opened her eyes that she realised that Lucy had heard it too. Not used to the fact that there was someone else who understood the melancholy behind their gift. Their curse. Only, before her she could see all the death glows of those people, sprawled out into horrifying positions as they seemed to bleed together. And the only other person who could share that experience with her was currently fishing?
What the hell was he doing with a fishing rod? Seriously, what was he doing?
And Lucy and George were just as concerned. Trying to understand why he'd all of a sudden decided to take a nice break and fish for the local nightlife. "Lockwood, what are you doing?" The smartest of the bunch asked.
His response was an awful lot of clattering.
"Just a spot of fishing." Mr Up His Own Arse said, emerging from the darkness. Because apparently no one decided to wire this creepy ass mansion with electric wiring before or after the Problem, so naturally they were stuck with limited candlelight. "Hopefully, this will relax you both a bit. Harrow's fine." He said, gesturing to where Persie stood staring at him dumbfounded.
Nope. She was definitely not relaxed, and she was definitely not fine. It was just that expressing her emotions in tense situations leads to nothing, so she chooses not to express them. Because if she was around Anthony Lockwood too much she'd start getting wrinkles by the time she was twenty-five if she always expressed what she kept deep down inside.
She would not allow him the satisfaction of seeing her get worry lines because of his idiocy.
"I came here yesterday after Satchell's to do a bit of recon and stashed this outside." He was unwrapping something, but Persie already had a feeling she knew exactly what it was. "It was obvious, Fairfax being who he is, he was gonna search our bags. And me being me, I was gonna smuggle flares in." He said, finally revealing the bomb flare he'd reeled in. Whether Fern would admit it or not; she and Anthony Lockwood did have their similarities. A shared love of flares was one of them. "We don't have our usual kit, but we do have this bomb flare. Industrial strength? Better be. Cost enough." He read out the label on the flare, surprisingly, considering his history. And not just from the past few days.
Anthony Lockwood had a whole list of grievances from past clients, one which he'd more than likely mysteriously misplaced somewhere.
"So the flare in your bag was just decoy contraband." George surmised something that resembled a cheeky smile starting to form on his lips.
And Lockwood was just eating it up. So Persie decided to go look through her own duffle to get out the stuff she needed, rolling her eyes as she heard him speak. "All part of the dance."
"Why didn't you tell us?" Lucy asked naively. Because Anthony bloody Lockwood does whatever the hell he likes and doesn't bother to let anyone else in on the joke. Instead most times, they are the joke.
"What, and deny us all this beautiful moment?" He chuckled, like the maniac he was. An annoyingly likeable one though. On his good days. "Come on, Luce, I'm not a monster."
"So," Lockwood said feeling odd that he hadn't received a firm telling off yet. He looked at Persie as she walked back towards the assembled three. Addressing her directly.
Except the girl was just confused. "So, what?" Her arms were crossed against her chest, an inquisitive look on her face as she tried to decode Lockwood's gaze in the dark.
"You not gonna chastise me? For breaking the rules?" He asked, his own state of confusion bleeding out so it was clear to see on his worn-out features. The boy really needed a nap or at least some good under-eye cream. Or maybe some orange juice to get some decent vitamins in him.
"No." She argued, a funny look on her face as she scrunched it up to show she wasn't angry or bothered. "Because I had Fern sneak one in the hidden side pocket of my bag. I'm not going into a death trap like this without a safety blanket." She said showing off her own bomb flare. A smirk on her face.
And she couldn't help but feel a little rejoiced at how Lockwood smirked at her, chucking at how the two of them had managed to fool someone very highly esteemed. Perhaps because the thought of them getting something wrong and getting in trouble was a little too worrying for that moment in time.
"Right then. Shall we?" Lockwood asked, and just like that, the team was ready...ish. They'd do their job, albeit a bit hesitantly, but they were professionals. Most times.
But now was the time to be professional, so they got to work and carefully trekked up the supposedly haunted steps. Only, it was just like Persie thought earlier, it was too quiet to be the 'Screaming Staircase'. For one, where was the screaming all the brochures promised? Because currently the only five stars this place was getting were for bullshitted fakery.
"Sense anything?" Lockwood said to both listeners. But Persie just shook her head, even touching the handrail did nothing. Maybe Fairfax had got it wrong, perhaps even he didn't know the real layout of the place, could have been just an assumption. Although, for some reason, she highly doubted that.
Apparently, Lucy was getting the same thing. "If this is a screaming staircase, it's being very quiet." In their profession, quiet is very rarely a good thing.
"Maybe it's taken the night off," George said. The top of the stairs was almost within reach. As long as they could get to the top, everything would be fine. Hopefully.
"Like we should have done." And Persie couldn't help but agree with Lucy there. She wished she had her emotional support Drake to keep her calm and stop her worrying. And the ache at the back of her skull was slowly starting to get worse.
Eventually, it was just Lockwood and her, on account of the others going on ahead. And the two teenagers looked at each other. Sending a nod to one another. Something they used to do, something they haven't done in almost two years. And it brought the two unimaginable amounts of comfort.
Because as long as Anthony Lockwood and Persephone Harrow were beside each other, there was nothing to fear. A fact neither of the two had learnt yet, but there was still time.
THE RED ROOM WAS COLD. It made Persie's bones rattle; for some reason she expected it to be warmer. That was definitely a false estimate.
Energy vibrated around them, like static waiting to shock you. The walls were full of it. Bad energy. Something George picked up on as well. It created the same feeling as a rollercoaster ride after too many hot dogs; terrible nausea. Fortunately for them, it wasn't too strong, more like a low hum, but it didn't mean things couldn't escalate. Cockiness was a surefire way of getting your insides burnt out.
Persie could hear the others talking, but she wasn't paying attention. There was just so much noise. And the death glows seemed to be as bright as the sun, making her head pound even more. Until the tapping and scraping in her mind were getting louder and louder. So loud in fact, that it felt like it was right beside her.
Quickly in response, she turned her flashlight towards the direction it came from, wondering if she'd get a glimpse of something. Her breathing was becoming slightly erratic, and she needed to calm herself down.
"Perse, you alright?" George asked, watching as she flicked her flashlight across the room as if searching for something.
Hearing her friend's voice eased the tension in her shoulders, just a little. And she turned to notice that the three of them were looking at her. Well, that's just awkward. She's supposed to be the Supervisor, and she's practically getting spooked by her own shadow. "Yeah. Fine." She huffed out. Turning away to focus her attention on the walls.
Mostly she just wanted to focus on anything other than their faces, on the concerned looks they were probably sharing. She wasn't useless. She just wasn't.
Just sometimes...things get too much for her. Little things get to her. And she most definitely didn't like the fact that it felt like something was breathing down her neck, and no matter where she went in the room, it lingered near her like an illness.
"It's not very red though, is it?" Thank God the Karim boy had decided to change the subject because it felt like Persie was dying from the awkward silence. And he was right, there was a duly noted absence of red in the colour scheme of the room. So she chalked it up to it being named that after all the blood that's probably been spilt within its walls. Something that didn't fail to make her cringe.
The Harrow girl was investigating the wallpaper. Her flashlight lit it up as she walked along. She'd almost tripped a few times on loose floorboards, but luckily it wasn't too difficult for her to regain her balance. The familiar sound of chains clinking together as they were placed carefully on the floor filled her ears, as well as the salt line George was currently pouring near the front door.
Listening was such an amazing ability. But it was only seen that way by those that can't actually hear them. It drives you mad. Persie was lucky, her Mum had the listening abilities in the family, which helped her focus on the voices rather than the moaning and screaming. It's because of her that to this very day, she was able to differentiate between pleads for help and the more nasty sides of death loops.
Her mum was a badass. And sometimes it's hard living up to a legacy like that. But she always tried.
"Getting anything?" Lockwood whispered beside her. She hadn't even noticed him move towards her, everything was starting to bleed together, all of her senses overlapping one another. When she didn't answer, he gently grasped her arm, pulling her out of her mind. Making her face him. "You sure you're up for this? I won't hold it against you if you back out."
It was obvious he was being sincere, but all Persie could see was what her mind wanted her to see. And she thoroughly believed that he wanted her to fail. Which was absolute bullshit. But she believed it nonetheless.
So she pulled her arm away, almost too forcefully, and faced the wall in front of her. "I'm fine." Because on the surface she was. The perfect wall of marble that she chiselled herself to become. Because even though he wouldn't hold it against her if she backed out, she definitely would.
And just like that their small moment of familiarity, of friendly compassion, was shattered. Reminding them both exactly why they weren't together anymore. Why they should never have become more than friends in the first place.
Two broken hearts don't make each other whole. That was just for fairytales.
The room was getting colder, with George being in charge of monitoring the temperature they'd know if it even lowered half a degree.
Lockwood had gotten back to the centre of the room by then, watching Persie carefully as she ran her fingers along the worn papered walls. Worried for her as she seemed completely lost in a daydream. He'd never seen her like this.
Perhaps Kipps hadn't been lying when he said all that stuff back at the Archives.
"Whatever's here, it's getting closer." He mentioned as he watched her do her second lap of the entire room. Looking over at George to see if he was seeing the same thing. He was, and he was worried too. "There's no sign of any sources yet though. Strange." He needed to try and get her attention, try and pull her away from distractions. "George, didn't you say you suspect there's hidden rooms?" Nothing. She wasn't budging. And usually, the prospect of buried secret passageways always excited her.
Something was going on with her. And she wasn't going to tell him about it, but that didn't mean he couldn't worry.
But Persie could hear everything they were saying. She was just a step ahead of them. Her Parents had done tons of research on the place since before she was even born. And fortunately, she still had those files in a dust-ridden, hardly used storage unit along with other paperwork labelled "important", that Sarah had moved out of the old townhouse. So she'd spent most of the night - and early morning - reading up on all the information gathered on the Hall. Including an incomplete map of all the hidden passageways.
So that's why she was lapping the room countless times, she was looking for any physical or audible signs. It wasn't because she was going insane. Although the number of voices in her head wasn't helping the situation. All screaming and crying, pleading for help, it was quite exhausting. She'd had to tell a few of them to shush a couple of times already, but they weren't caring enough to stop their blubbering.
"Would you all be quiet?" She whispered harshly. Knowing that none from the beyond would be able to understand her or do as they were told. Yet, she received an offended look from George as he continued to watch his three friends' backs. "Not you, sorry."
But explaining it would be a long and tedious process. And that was time they most certainly did not have to waste.
Finally, Lockwood too had noticed the amass of glowing body outlines. He must have decided to be Captain Obvious today though because he declared the fact that there must have been a lot of people dying in the room to the whole class. However, it was in that brief moment that Persie realised why; only two out of the four people present could see them. And she was the other one.
Although there were a lot of screams and hushed whispers in the corners. She doubted this was the primary haunting, even if George or Fairfax believed so. Sure, the place was crawling with badness, practically oozing out dark energy from every splintered floorboard like open pores. But she wasn't crawling on the floor, writhing in agony.
That was a good sign.
Lucy found something obviously because she was telling everyone to shush. Now that made Persie stop what she was doing, especially as that tapping the ghosts were doing was driving her insane. "Stop tapping. I need to listen."
"It's not him," Persie replied, just as Lockwood confirmed her statement with his own confirmations that the noise wasn't coming from him.
That was the problem with trainees, they still had quite a few things to learn. For instance, how to differentiate between noises from the deceased, with noises from the living. Something Lucy was likely still learning the hard way. Oh, what a pain in the arse training her would be.
Because all Persie wanted to do was just that, train her. It was nice having another listener around. It meant her ears could relax now and then. Barely even one day with them and she was already acting like she was a part of the team. It would take a bit of getting used to that she wasn't, not anymore.
But suddenly all those positive thoughts were sapped out of her as the tapping noise soon became sounds of dripping. Persie didn't want to look up and see what was causing it, but she soon found her head tilting upwards anyway.
Great. Just, great.
Now she understood why they called it the Red Room. And she was right. Because up above on the ceiling were patches of wet blood creeping closer and closer, dripping down to the floor.
Turns out there really are some very dumb ways to die. And following Anthony Lockwood and his ragtag team to a severely haunted mansion, was certainly at the top of the list.
George was shouting at them all to get back to the circle. And after taking too long to move, she found herself being yanked away until she stood inside the circle of chains. So she sent a very disgruntled look to Lockwood as he let go of her arm once again, unsheathing his rapier soon after.
The Harrow girl soon followed suit.
"Blood." Lucy acknowledged, soon discovering what Persie had only a few moments prior. Somehow, she was the slow one?
But apparently, George wasn't so convinced. "It's not blood. It can't be. It's plasm." He argued, however, Persie was having a little trouble hearing him over the deafening whispers that filtered into her ears.
It was so loud that she desperately wanted to place her hands over her ears, to muffle the sound. Yet, she knew it wouldn't do anything. So she decided to weather out the storm. "Yeah, it looks like blood, it smells like blood." The youngest member counteracted.
"So basically, Georgie, it's freaking blood." Persie finished. Ringing in her eardrums started to debilitate her as the four of them jumped back at the discovery that there was a weakness in their protective circle. Apparently, the ghost residents didn't like accommodating four people at a time.
The three agents ran off back to the door, trying to get out. However, Persie on the other hand didn't move. It was like she was rooted to one spot. And the saddest part was, no one had noticed yet.
Persephone Harrow had only ever once been near ghost locked in her life. Back when she was eleven, during a very dark period and something very bad happened. It was an experience she had never the intention, nor the desire, to repeat. But life has a funny way of hitting you back with what you deserved.
So much so, that even the whispers weren't affecting her anymore. She could no longer keep the door closed, they were flooding in now.
"Murderer!" They hissed collectively. "Coward!" And she could do nothing to silence them.
But she'd be damned if she ever let herself die at the claws of her demons. She'd spent too long running from them for them to pin her down now. So she held her rapier close to her, backing up closer to the edge of the circle. Waiting for the three stooges to come up with a plan.
Fern would kill her if she died. Especially as she'd lied directly to her face about what she was doing tonight. And to her mum.
"They're working together. Oh shit." George said, making Persie realise she was just going to get splashed if she didn't step away as soon as possible. So she did, jumping over the chain and running towards the two boys, Lucy busy trying to find their exit.
"Stay focused." Lockwood tried to boost morale. But it's kind of useless when your confidence has been withered away to almost nothing.
"You better not get me killed, Lockwood," Persie said, turning her head to look at him for what she hoped wasn't the last time. Mostly 'cause she wanted to give him a good slap or punch to the face. And soon turned back to the real-life nightmare they were currently facing. "Fern won't survive without me. She's terrible at saving money, she'll go bankrupt within a week!"
Persephone Harrow wasn't afraid of death. It wasn't exactly an ideal plan though either.
"Lucy, please tell me that's a door!" Lockwood pleaded. And if Persie believed in a higher being, this would be the time to start praying.
George too was terrified, for good reason. "I'd like to start running now!" He begged, trying to look away from what was likely to be his future fate.
"Me too!" Persie agreed, sticking close to her favourite nerdy friend, not wanting to leave his side. Even though it was partly his fault she was here in the first place.
Her eardrums were throbbing by this point, barely able to make out anything other than the rumbling sound the room was making and the banging noise Lucy was making as she tried to force her way through the secret door. Stupid bloody secret passageway and its stupid bloody sealed-up door! Stupid bloody room, literally!
Eventually, there was nothing else in the room but waterfalls of blood. Everything else was absorbed by it. However, fate was apparently on their side, because soon the door finally broke free from its bound prison and it was a push, not a pull.
And a hand grasped around hers to drag her to the other side. Fortunately for her, it was a human one.
The only sound she heard then was the door slamming shut. Her body pressed up against it, along with someone else's. Anthony bloody Lockwood's to be exact. The very person who held her hand in a death grip, as if afraid to let go. Also, the very person who had just saved her life.
Now she'd never hear the end of this.
——— APOLLO SPEAKS ———
This is by far the LONGEST chapter I have ever written. I am so sorry. I doubt anyone has actually read all of this, and I don't blame you. But here it is. Chapter six. Very damn late. I was losing confidence and motivation to write. I feel like everything I write is bad and it really affects me, so I'm sorry if this sucks. I keep drawing blanks when writing. Anyway, I'm gonna try and keep an update schedule for this again because I have a plan sort of made to help me figure out everything I'm gonna do for this. Most, if not all, of the chapter titles for volume one, have been noted down so it gives me a rough idea of what I want to write for each of them. Love you all, and thank you for staying with me patiently <33.