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:
& everything nice
I cocked my head to the side, taking in the handiwork displayed. Dill, midway through pushing the door open, caught sight of where my attention had landed, and chuckled.
"Cacao, Paprika and I did that when we were around your age now," he told me, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. "It was a joke, but no one else shared the sentiment."
"It was vandalism," Saffron corrected.
Dill flashed a grin, showing off his dimples, and made no further comment as he slipped inside. Ginger hesitated for a moment, still grasping Saffron's arm, but Saffron cupped his face tenderly and whispered his gratitude. I diverted my gaze, unsure why the small show of affection twisted something fierce and hot inside of me. I continued to look away until Ginger released Saffron and slipped down the steps, disappearing around the side of the mansion. Saffron gently took hold of my shoulder, guiding me through the doorway.
My breath caught as soon as we were inside. Truthfully, I didn't know what I expected from a house this massive. The walls and ceiling were white with golden trimmings, and a stunning diamond chandelier hung down the centre of the foyer. A wide staircase curved elegantly around to a landing that split off to the left and right, disappearing down two separate corridors. Hidden part-way beneath the landing, directly centre in the far wall of the foyer, was a wooden door with another plaque that simply said: Office.
To the left of the foyer were a pair of grand timber doors that opened inwardly but were currently shut, and to my immediate right, at the foot of the staircase, was another pair of grand timber doors which stood open, revealing a spacious dining room. A large cedar table was centred in the room with five chairs either side and one at both ends. Candles littered the room, and on the far wall was a fireplace with a family portrait of who I assumed to be Erik Spice as a young child with his mother and father.
"It is a lot to process at first glance," Saffron said as he closed the door behind us. I didn't know where to look first. My jaw was almost on the floor, which was marbled white and grey. Saffron's smile was warm as he led me into the middle of the vast and empty foyer. "Often we have a table here with decorative items, but occasionally we have guests and shift it outside."
"Sometimes we pretend it is a ballroom," someone added, drawing my attention to the staircase where the man with strawberry-blond hair and hazel eyes stood with a sophisticated elegance. He wore a terracotta blouse with a pair of dark grey slacks, accentuating his porcelain white skin that was almost fragile in nature, like the smallest cut would have him bleeding for centuries. His eyes crinkled with a welcoming smile. "Hi."
"Cinn," Saffron said, gesturing at me. "This is Milton. Milton, Cinnamon."
Cinnamon. Now it certainly wasn't a coincidence. Erik Spice. Paprika, Dill, Ginger, Saffron. And now Cinnamon.
As if reading my spiral of thoughts, Cinnamon chuckled lightly, descending the staircase to join Saffron and me. He touched my arm. "It will make sense soon. But for now, it is a pleasure to officially meet you."
"You, too," I murmured, even if I did not truly share the opinion in my heart. I wanted to be home, with my uncle.
I hate you.
I suppressed a shudder, closing my hands into fists until the bite of my nails slipped into my palms. I desperately wished for something more, a knife or a fire or anything to make the sudden lick of self-hate dissipate.
Cinnamon gave my arm a small squeeze before dropping his hand and glancing at Saffron. His tone changed, his smile dropping slightly. "Have you seen him?"
Whoever he was, I couldn't know. Saffron's face twisted into something that could only be a grimace as he said, "Yes. Mer has taken him for a ride. I assume they'll return by nightfall."
Cinnamon hummed, his smile strengthening when he caught my eye, but it was clearly strained. I wondered what and who they were talking about but didn't have a chance to ask (not that I ever would, for my anxiety would not allow me). The office door swung open, revealing Erik Spice and the young man who had hidden behind the front door earlier.
"—good for self-reflection," Erik Spice was saying as he pressed a journal into the younger man's hands. His auburn hair was tied back but strands fell out as he nodded, pink bow lips pressed into a small, uncertain smile. His silver eyes flickered to me, and the smile froze, eyes widening a fraction. Erik Spice noticed immediately, and he gently grasped the man's chin, returning his attention to him. "Basil. It's okay, darling. Reflect on those thoughts and find one of us afterwards."
Basil. I tilted my head. His wavy auburn hair was not neatly pinned back, but the mess seemed to compliment his small, nervous statute. He appeared as a doll, with a heart-shaped face, almond-shaped eyes, and perfect bow lips. Pale, ivory skin, with silvery undertones. The pink ribbon in his hair. His entire body radiated with trembling anxiety. My stomach twisted and I flexed my hands, releasing the bite of my nails from my palms.
Basil didn't say anything; simply ducked his head and crossed the foyer to slip past Saffron, Cinnamon and I. Erik Spice watched him go, and then gave Saffron a look which I couldn't decipher but must have spoken a hundred requests. Brunet ringlets bounced as Saffron ducked his head and followed Basil, leaving me with Cinnamon at my side, and Erik Spice several paces ahead of us.
"I promised to help Ginger in the quarters," Cinnamon said suddenly, and Erik Spice gave him an amused look. Cinnamon returned it with an exaggerated salute before he disappeared out the front door.
Left alone with the man who had stood by and watched my uncle abandon me, I didn't feel any amusement at all. I could not bring myself to even smile politely at him. We stood at opposite ends of the foyer, and while I could feel Erik Spice's eyes on me, I couldn't meet his gaze.
After several minutes of silence, he asked, "Will you join me for a cup of tea?"
No, I wanted to say. But Uncle Felix had ingrained it into me to always use my manners with strangers, even when I felt no urge to do so.
Unspeaking, I crossed the foyer to slip into the office as Erik Spice held the door open for me. I paused once inside, taking a second to appreciate my surroundings. The walls were a burnt burgundy colour, covered in artwork and picture frames. In the right-hand corner there were two sage green lounges and a fireplace with two windows on either side looking out at the back patio, and to the left were two desks made of mahogany, littered with paperwork and journals. Perhaps what was the most intriguing and awe-inspiring were the three large bookshelves set directly ahead of me, filled to the brim with books of all shapes and sizes.
Uncle Felix and I had never been able to afford this type of luxury and standing here now felt like I was in heaven. It felt like betrayal.
"Please, help yourself to as many books as you so desire," Erik Spice said as he stepped into the office behind me, leaving the door open a crack. The opportunity to escape, although small, relieved me. I wasn't trapped.
Although I certainly did not feel free either, especially as Erik Spice slowly circled me until he stood partway between myself and the bookshelf. I eyed him warily. He didn't seem phased by my distrust and gestured to the lounges.
"Take a seat. The pot is still hot."
I hadn't noticed the small tea pot sitting on a small side-table by the fireplace, but now I saw it, and the small plate of sweet biscuits. Hesitantly I perched on the edge of one of the lounges, watching as Erik Spice poured us both tea and sat on the opposite lounge. He offered me the plate of biscuits before taking one for himself and settling back against the couch, one leg crossed over the other. He emitted ease and tranquility, and I found my body unconsciously mimicking his despite my growing anxiety.
What if he yelled at me? What if he reprimanded me for the way I treated my uncle? While warranted, what if he hurt me? What if he locked me up and hit me? I didn't know this man, and maybe Uncle Felix trusted him, but that trust was unfounded.
"You must be terrified," he said. I flinched, snapping my head up to look at him. Gentle blue eyes found mine. "You have been removed from your home, all the comfort and safety you know, and now you are surrounded by people in a strange house, with no connections to your uncle."
I stayed silent, analysing his every move. If he suddenly lunged at me, I could flee out the window. I could use a log out of the fire to set something on fire. I did not fear being burned, but perhaps he did.
As my silence lingered, Erik Spice swallowed a mouthful of tea and as he set the cup down, he said, "I believe you have met Paprika, Saffron and Cinnamon. And Basil, albeit briefly."
Drawing my gaze away from the flickering flames, I peered at the man carefully. He was capable of so much. Tall, broad, muscular. Everything I wasn't.
I wet my lips and found my voice. It was croaky and hoarse, but I managed to say, "As—As well as Dill and Gin-Ginger."
Erik Spice hummed, lifting his own teacup to his lips. "There is also Turmeric, Cacao and Liquorice. Perhaps you have noticed a theme."
"Spices."
"Yes," he said. "While there is no pressure, we do encourage a new name to ease you into this new life. We have found that holding onto elements of your old life will only discourage you to heal and grow, and while that may be the desire for some, we have reason to believe the effects are detrimental."
I blinked. "How... How so?"
A grimace marred his pale face for a moment, bright blue eyes adjusting to look out the window in thought. After several beats, he cleared his throat. "It is merely a suggestion; an opportunity to start fresh."
Uncle Felix was good at avoiding my questions, too. Keeping my face blank, I gave Erik Spice a quick once-over. His hands were consciously relaxed in his lap, and his smile was well-placed. There were things there, hidden and unspoken, and his words had merit even if I did not understand. His subtle honesty eased some of my anxiety.
"Your name does not follow the theme," I noted.
The smile twitched slightly, blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Correct. I tried Elderflower many years ago, but it was often shortened to Flower, and I was teased mercilessly for it. Liquorice quite likes to call me Essential Spice when he is feeling particularly playful, but otherwise..." Erik Spice shrugged. "You may call me that, or Erik, or any extension of my given name. I must, however, request you steer clear of 'sir' or 'mister' as that was my father, and I am not him."
I nodded, twisting my hands together in my lap. "Erik." I tasted the name on my tongue. It was simple. "Flower is nice."
Erik pressed his lips together firmly, his cheeks tinging a delicate shade of pink. "Yes, well." He cleared his throat. "You have time to think of a new name. It may be an extension of your own, it may be a nickname, however I do encourage thought in the matter, and ensuring it will not negatively affect your experiences from here on in."
"Must it be a spice?" I asked quietly.
"No," Erik said, and then paused before chuckling. "I am afraid the others share similar humour, but do not feel pressured to follow their motives. Your experiences are your own, and your decision must be personal to you."
Experience... decision... This was happening. I was stuck here, with these strangers, who chose oddly-themed names for themselves and spoke to each other like they were man and wife instead of friends who had grown closer because of proximity. Uncle Felix had truly abandoned me.
I hate you.
"Why did he send me here?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. I blinked in surprise at my own courage and reached a hand to clasp at my shirt collar, ensuring it stayed shut to not reveal my scarred chest.
Erik's eyes never once left mine, but something told me he knew of my scars anyway. "Your uncle worried you would follow a path of self-destruction. He brought you here to heal."
"And you are here to heal me?"
"I am here to help you. We all are."
"What..." I wet my lips and turned to stare into the fire. "What makes you capable of helping me? You do not know me."
"Not yet, we do not. But every person who has walked through that door has needed a reason to live, and while I cannot promise that you will find that here, I can promise that everyone is dedicated to working towards something they are proud of." Erik sighed and stood. He walked to one of the windows and stared out at something. "There are set-backs. There are struggles. Not every day is easy, but nor is every day hard. We seek balance and the hope that one day the scales will tip, and there will be more good days than bad."
I sucked in a sharp breath, and Erik turned to me. I struggled to hold his gaze, but somehow, I managed.
"That is what makes us capable of helping you. The knowledge that there is nothing you could do which would make me turn you away, that there will always be someone who understands. That one day you will wake up and no longer feel pain. You will live through a day where your first thought is not the deep ache of emptiness in your stomach, or the lingering burn of fire or the touch of a knife. You will find value in the small moments of domestic life, and in that value, you will find happiness."
Tears stung behind my eyes. I had not told him of the pain I felt. He could not know of the way I loathed myself in the morning, of my first thoughts being of the fire Uncle Felix was using to heat water. How could he possibly know of my hurt when I barely knew of it myself?
"That is what I promise you, that is how I will help you."
I stared at him, eyes wet, face hot, and emotions running rampant. Erik crossed the room towards me, kneeling by the lounge and resting his hand on my thigh. I tensed beneath the touch but didn't draw away. I stared at him.
"Trust us to help you. Trust us to know how."
Swallowing thickly, I croaked, "I do not even know how."
Erik nodded. "I know. But you are no longer alone. Do you understand? You are no longer alone."
Loneliness had been a vice for too long. It was all I knew, despite Uncle Felix's best intentions. Perhaps I wasn't alone in time, as he was always there, but never there. He could read me like a book but not in the ways that mattered. Not in the ways I needed.
I hate you.
But he was enough. I always told him he was enough.
You aren't enough.
"Come," Erik said after a moment of silence. "Let me show you to your room."
I sniffled, rubbing at my nose and eyes as I stood to follow him. "I—I did not bring any garments—"
"It was not a requirement that you did," Erik assured as he led me from the office. "Everything you could possibly need will be provided, and if there is anything more you desire, we will find it at the market."
I nodded, unable to speak because my throat was tight with emotions and my mind was a wreck of thoughts. I followed Erik up the staircase, too emotional to appreciate the golden banister. At the landing we turned right down the corridor.
My attention drew to one of the rooms with the door open a crack. There was a noise coming from within, the sound of creaking and soft breaths. My curiosity piqued but before I could tilt my head to see into the room, Erik stepped past me to shut the door. He offered me a pleasant smile and led me to a room further down the corridor.
The door opened onto a plain, simple room with a single bed, chest of drawers, and window. "You may decorate as you please," Erik said. "There is a bathroom across the hall and a laundry chute at the top of the staircase. We all help with daily chores, and you will find a schedule in the kitchen downstairs. Are you all right if I leave you for a moment?"
"Um. Yes." I was too transfixed on the bedroom. It was simple and plain, yes, but it was clean. The door did not creak, the bed was double the size of my previous one, and the view was magnificent.
Erik slipped away, back down the corridor. I heard him disappear into a room, the door clicking shut behind him.
I wandered towards the window, peering out at the luscious garden and brick patio below. There were peonies, daisies and sunflowers clustered all around the garden, a stable off to the left, and servant quarters to the right. The latter appeared to be empty, abandoned. The stables, however, were anything but empty. I could see three horses, a palomino Thoroughbred, a chestnut Friesian, and a black, grey, and white Appaloosa.
Horses were expensive. I'd only ever been close to one in my life, and the experience had been a gift from Uncle Felix. He always gave the best gifts.
I hate you. Go. Leave. You aren't enough.
"Do you have any experience riding horseback?"
I startled violently at Erik's voice, whirling around to see him standing in the doorway.
"No, s—um. Erik. No, I do not. But I... I wish I did."
Erik's lips twitched as he approached me. Together we peered out the window, down at the stable, and I tried to ignore how close he was to me, and the way I could smell his musk. The girls at school always smelt very sweet, and the women at the markets and down the street had a very thick, tangy scent to them. It was nothing like Erik, and I couldn't explain why my body was flushing hot at his proximity but had never done so for anyone else.
"You will always find Basil with the horses," Erik murmured, making me blink and squint down at the stables. Sure enough, there was a flash of auburn hair and a pink ribbon, and then Basil wrapped his arms around the palomino Thoroughbred, pressing his face into the horse's mane.
"He confides in them," I observed quietly.
"Yes." Erik watched Basil interact with the horses for a moment before adding, "I apologise for his shyness. You mustn't think he does not want you here. He arrived barely nine weeks ago, and sometimes it is as though he has only been here nine minutes."
"He's young."
There was a hint of frown in Erik's voice as he said, "Yes. He will be twenty-one in two weeks."
I blinked. He was younger than me? I didn't say that aloud, but rather observed the young man from afar. Simply watching him from the window gave me great amounts of anxiety. I could not imagine being sent here any earlier than I had been.
"Come." Erik gestured for me to follow him, brushing his hand along my arm. I hesitated, continuing to watch Basil for a moment before turning to follow the older man out of the bedroom and down the staircase.
The doors on the opposite side of the foyer were open now and drifting out was a gorgeous melody. Someone played the pianoforte beautifully, and I desperately wished to abandon Erik's side to peek – but I couldn't bring myself to. I was finally feeling a semblance of comfort around the man, and I did not wish to abandon it too quickly.
Erik led me through the dining space, into a grand kitchen, and through a door that exited onto the brick patio. The stables were in clear view now, but Basil was no longer in sight. From a distance, I saw two figures approaching on a couple of horses, but I couldn't recognise them from afar. Erik did.
"Turmeric and Liquorice," he told me. "Riding helps clear their minds. It clears a lot of our minds. You're welcome to take a horse out, too, but I would feel more comfortable if you were taught to ride first."
I agreed quietly as he opened a gate that revealed rows and rows of garden beds and vines and trees. My eyes widened and my breath caught. I had overlooked this from the bedroom window.
"Do you have a favourite food?" Erik asked.
I was too shocked to answer. Truthfully, I did not have an answer. Uncle Felix and I had lived on oats, eggs and stale bread for too long. This array of fruit and vegetables presented to me now left me stunned, and I couldn't help but reach a tentative hand out to stroke the leaves of what smelt like coriander.
"My God," I breathed.
Erik hummed, watching me. I couldn't read his expression, but it was fleeting. He turned to grab a wicker basket from a collection of them by the gate. "I will give you a moment to think. Take your time. Explore. I will be over there picking vegetables for dinner."
I barely noticed as he slipped away from me. I walked down the rows of assorted fruit and vegetables. It was amazing. I had never seen a garden like it. I ran my fingertips along leaves and vegetables and vines until a scent caught at the back of my nose. I froze.
"Mint," Uncle Felix said, plucking a leaf from the plant and crushing it between his fingers. I blinked, spinning around. There was no one there. Instead, the very plant my uncle had nicknamed me after was growing impossibly wide in the garden bed, spilling over the edges, and my heart stuttered to a halt.
The scent was thicker now, stinging my eyes. I gritted my teeth and willed myself to move on, but suddenly I was six years old again, trudging behind Uncle Felix as we explored the market. Someone was brewing peppermint tea nearby. It smelt divine.
"Please," I whined and begged and kicked, dragging Uncle Felix's arm downward in the hopes of forcing him to halt. "Please, Uncle Fee, please."
"Milton, I said no—"
"Pleeeeeasssssse."
Uncle Felix grunted and sighed, digging his coin purse out to count his pennies. As soon as I realised what he was doing, I released his arm to chirp in glee, ignoring the disgruntled and annoyed looks from onlookers.
It took every penny except one in Uncle Felix's purse, but I didn't care because I had a steaming cup of freshly brewed peppermint tea, and it was the best thing I had ever tasted in my whole entire life. I burnt my mouth twice before finishing it and immediately demanding a second.
Uncle Felix chuckled, ruffling my hair. "Maybe next time, my little mint," he said.
But there was no next time. How could there be? No one was willing to employ a disowned eighteen-year-old. Money was tight. Tea was a luxury.
I never forgot the taste or the smell. Often, when I would walk home from school, I would stroll past my neighbours' gardens. I could smell the mint clearly, and when no one was looking, I would pinch a few leaves.
Uncle Felix always laughed when I would arrive home with stained fingers and a mischief grin, and he would say, "It matches your eyes. My little mint."
And then we would make tea together.
On my twelfth birthday, Uncle Felix bought me my own pot of mint to grow. It had wilted within a month because I didn't care for it the right way. The money Uncle Felix spent was wasted.
"Nonsense," Uncle Felix had said when I told him as much. "How could it be a waste? The entirety of this month, you were smiling. I could not have spent my money on anything greater."
Uncle Felix always knew how to make me smile.
"Milton?" Erik called my name, and I blinked, returning to the present. I must have plucked a couple of leaves of mint because when I looked from Erik to my hand, my fingers were stained.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I whispered, "Mint. Call me Mint."
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This story is NOT completed but if you would like to follow along updates are available to be read on Patreon. Details can be found on my page.
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