That was when I heard it. A scream. Ultimately feminine, but all the more filled with pain and agony as it echoed off the halls.
"Mom?!"
I didn't consider the consequences of my actions when I screamed that word. All I did was tear down the hallway like Lucifer was one my heels. My heart was pounding in my ears and chest as I ran, although my feet fell quietly on the carpeted ground.
When a light shone from down the corridor, I slowed. My heart was pounding in my throat, choking me, making it harder and harder to breathe. Few beads of sweat rolled across my forehead and down my spine as I stalked down the dark hallway, the illumination from the oil lanterns faint and barely lighting my face.
A door was cracked open. I walked to it slowly, my feet making no sound on the rug covered floors. And when I looked inside, I had to cover my mouth to prevent a scream from going past my lips.
Alan was standing over a maid. She was trembling on the floor, on her hands in knees. Blood dripped from the side of her face, and even from my place behind the door, I could see the tears on her cheeks.
But I wasn't startled by the sight of the blood. As much as it made me sick to witness, it wasn't what bothered me most. Or rather, what scared me the most.
Alan's hands were glowing.
Literally glowing, like he had focused all his aura, made it visible, and form an orb and each of his palms. There was a look in his eyes that screamed murder.
"I said that ye' would pay the price for disobedience, ye' filthy little wench," he growled, his foot pushing on the poor girl and she cried out, falling to the ground.
"I-I am sorry, my lord!" She cried, begging for forgiveness. "I-I had no ill will towards you or the lady of the house, I swear!"
I winced as she watched the girl receive a boot to the chest, and I had to cover my ears to block out the sound of the maid's scream.
"Enough!" Alan barked, the glow in his hands intensifying, the purple and black aura swirling around his fingers. "Ye' shall pay the price!"
He rose one of the hands, shouted something in Gaelic, and I stood there, helpless, and watched in horror. The girl on the floor writhed in pain, her lips parted as though she was screaming, but no sound left her throat. Tears filled both her eyes and mine as kept my hands clamped over my mouth to keep me from screaming.
My stepfather was no man.
He was a demon.
A monster.
A sorcerer.
Whatever you wanted to call it.
I took one step back, away from the door and back into the shadows of the hallway, though I could still see the horrific scene in front of me.
Then silence fell. I looked at the girl and stiffened. The maid wasn't moving. Her eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling. Tears were streaked across her face. I almost screamed, felling my breakfast in the back of my throat.
The maid... She was dead.
Without waiting another second, I took off in the way that I came. I didn't care if Alan had heard me from my sudden break into a run. I just had to get away from that room; away from death; away from Alan.
The maid was dead.
Dead.
I ran out the front doors of the fortress-castle and out into the grounds. The air was freezing, but I did not care. Anything was better than being near that room. Anything was better than being near Alan.
My heart pounded in my throat and in my chest, making breathing even harder than it had been in the bloody hallway. I breathed heavily as I ran towards the cliff I had seen from my bedroom window when I arrived yesterday. I stumbled every now and then on my own feet, but quickly caught my balance again and kept on running. When I reached the cliff, I sank down to my knees, breathing heavily and yet also gasping for breath as if there was no oxygen in my lungs. I wanted to throw up. What I had witnessed was worse than anything I had ever experienced in my life.
It wasn't until I had caught my breath, sank down and covered my face that I realized I was crying. Silver tears streaked across my pale cheeks. I ran a hand through my wild red hair, trying to sort out my long curls and my thoughts.
What was Alan?
Who was he?
Why was he smiling the whole time like some twisted sociopath?
⠀⠀
««❀»»
I lost track of time. Every minute that passed by seemed to blend with the other as I tried to console myself, to convince myself that what happened didn't actually happen. That I had only been imagining things. That my disposition and disgust towards Alan had corrupted my mind and made everything I saw towards him evil. Maybe I was just going insane myself. I had seen images before, things that I knew weren't real. Or rather, things that had happened in the past. Like when I first arrived in this place and in my bedroom this morning, I saw very brief images of long-term strife, vicious storms, and forbidden love. Maybe this was just another one of those times.
But deep in my heart I knew those thoughts were only lies.
I pulled myself up from the ground. I was cold enough to the point I couldn't even feel it. I smelled like the ocean that splashed on the craggy rocks below and my clothes were slightly damp from the mist that hung over the property. I slowly made my way back down the cliff, back to the castle, back to the one place I had learned to dread more than school in less than twenty-four hours. Before I could even walk ten steps, I heard someone call my name. When I looked up from my feet, I noticed that it was starting to snow. But not only that, I saw Logan running towards me. My knees went weak.
"Christine!" He yelled, running into me and wrapping his arms tightly around my cold and rigid frame. Never in my life had I been happier to see one single person. "Where on earth have ye' been?"
I said nothing. I was unable to speak. I just leaned weakly into his warm embrace. He smelled like clean soap as if he just took a shower. Nothing could have been more alluring.
"Never mind that," he whispered, his face buried in my hair. "Yer mother has been worried sick. Melissa sent me out to look for ye'."
I look up a bit at the sound of my mother's name. "My mom? Is she alright?" I asked weakly, my voice hoarse. God, my throat was so dry!
Logan nodded. "She is fine. Worried like a mother, as it is. 'Tis no place for ye' to be... Christine have ye' been cryin?"
I shook my head. "I-It's from the cold wind, is all." As much as I hated lying to the one person that made me feel warm and safe, it was necessary. More for my own sanity than his.
He nodded. "Alright, then," he whispered softly. "Come, I will take ye' to yer mum. Alan's and her own orders..."
I could only nod, though the sound of Alan's name made bile touch the back of my throat. I let Logan lead me back to the castle, back to the warmth of the home I found to be a cage. Once we were inside, Logan led me down some corridors, and to my mother's room.
"This is where I leave ye', Christine," he whispered quietly. He hugged me in his arms once again, pressing my face into his chest, and his lips pressed against my hair. Blush arose to my cheeks, along with a faint smile.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For everything." Parting from his arms, I quickly entered my mother and stepfather's room. And my eyes immediately lit up and my spirits immediately rose.
"Mom!" I cried, bolting into the bedroom. My arms wrapped around my mother, who was curled up in an armchair with a book.
"Chris!" My mother exclaimed, hugging me back as a relieved laugh left her lips. My nickname coming from her lips was like music to my ears. "Where on earth have you been?"
I laughed a bit, tears forming in my eyes, though the circumstances for them were different. "I-I was out for some fresh air," I said quickly, even though it was a lie. Though mother still couldn't tell when I was lying.
"I'm just relieved you're safe," mother said, hugging my close against her chest as she smoothed a hand over my hair. "I was worried that you had run away..."
"I would never run away, mom. I couldn't leave you..."
"Ah, Christine. There ye' are."
I parted from her arms and whirled around, seeing my stepfather standing in the doorway. Fear grew in my eyes as I saw him, though my mother did not notice. Alan clearly did, because a smile came onto his lips.
"Hello Alan!" Mother said and stood from her chair and approached Alan. The two embraced, Alan pressing his lips on Melissa's, bringing my mother into a kiss. I rolled my eyes in annoyance and averted my gaze. Public displays of affection made me seriously uncomfortable. Maybe that was because I hadn't had a boyfriend before and hadn't yet been kissed myself.
When they broke away, Alan looked at me, his eyes once again hard and cold. "I thought I told ye' no to be disturbing yer mother while she rests."
"Well apparently she's been worried about me all day," I spat, noticing my mother's eyes harden a bit.
"Christine—" she started, but Alan butt in.
"As have I, but you still should listen," he retorted, shutting my mother down.
Lies, I thought. You always tell lies. "Since when did it matter to you how much I see my mother?" I challenged, crossing my arms.
Alan's eyes narrowed, and he quickly stepped forward. And right in front of my mother, he struck me. His hand smacked across my face, knocking my head to the side and made me stagger a bit. I stood in shock, blinking rapidly as I fought back tears.
Melissa screamed a bit, covering her mouth. "Alan! That was utterly uncalled for and unnecessary!" My mother tried to pass him, to come for me like I wanted her to, but his hands gently held my mother by the arms. I wanted to yell at him, to tell him not to touch her, but I couldn't speak.
Alan looked at Melissa. "Melissa, my love, I understand yer concern. But there is one thing I will not deal with, and that is disobedience." When he turned back to me, I cowered away from him. He snatched my arm and pulled me to the door. His grip was icy again, also tight and painful, bringing a weak scream of pain from my lips. "Ye' will go to yer room and that is final."
"Alan! She's a teenager!" Melissa snapped and removed my arm from his hand, standing between the two of us. Talk about martyrdom. Mom was always the one to step in front of me whenever she knew something bad would happen if she didn't. She always sought out peace with words instead of violence. I looked at Alan from over her shoulder. Just from the flaring of his nostrils, I could tell he was struggling not to hit her too. "Teenagers are naturally rebellious," she continued. "You cannot treat her like this, even if she is disobeying! Abuse is never an answer to anything!"
Alan seemed to glare at my mother, but soon calmed. "Fine. But if she does not obey from here on out, things might not be so easily handled."
Alan stepped around my mother, separating the two of us, and I was tossed out into the hallway. I winced as the door slammed as I watched the dark wood in front of me.
Lies.
That's all he tells.
He's not a man, he's a monster.
He's not a husband, he's a slaveholder.
He's not innocent, he committed murder.
He's no honest man.
He's a filthy fucking liar.
And mother and I fell for all of it.