Chapter II

She woke up in the middle of the night. It was cold, and from what she could tell, it had been raining for a while. She got up, and saw herself in a white night gown. Her reflection looked very different in the mirror; her hair was darker and tied up in a messy bun, and she had cuts above her eyebrow. There was a bruise under her left eye and her lip was cut. What the hell, she thought. Who beat me up?

The sounds of angry footsteps echoed throughout the tiny passage and, in a few minutes, Michael Royston stood there, his handsome face contorted in rage. "You're going to leave me?!" he roared, pacing back and forth. "Why would you leave, huh? What gives you the right to do it?" She was silent, his anger shocking her so much she had no words to say.

"You think I'll let you leave?" he said again, covering the distance between them in a few strides until his face was inches from hers. "No, not anymore!" His handsome face was contorted in unfathomable rage as he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the room. She was thrashing and flailing about, trying to wrestle free from his grip, but to no avail.

She woke up in a cold sweat. That dream almost seemed real, or maybe it was her imagination? She didn't know anymore. Now I need to get out of here, she thought as she got up and out of the bed.

She rummaged through the small bookshelf in the room for any information about where she was, or what happened, but instead, she inadvertently opened a small passageway near the bed when a book fell from the shelf.  The spiral staircase led down, and without hesitation, she followed it. 

She ended up in the most beautiful ballroom she'd ever seen. The walls and floors were covered in gold and the glass chandeliers were finely made. She felt like a princess as she walked across the room, imagining what it would be like to be dressed in finery and dance here.

Okay, maybe this won't hurt. I don't think there's anyone here, she thought. She caught a glimpse of her reflection, and decided to mimic the actions of someone who was dancing a waltz. She closed her eyes and then lightly stepped to the sides and did a spin, feeling as if she were a princess in a fairytale story. Once she opened her eyes, she was surprised that the ballroom was full of people wearing fancy gowns and suits, dancing and happily chatting. What the... she thought. I could've sworn I was alone! From the crowd of people dancing, she saw Michael Royston approaching her. He wore a nice black vest over a long-sleeved gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, over black slacks and nice, leather shoes. "What are you doing, standing there?" he asked with a smile. She was really taken aback at how handsome he was, especially when he smiled. 

"Come on, it's time for us to dance." he said, extending his hand. She wanted to recoil but she wasn't in control of her body as she let him take her to the middle of the dance floor. The people made way and as they began to waltz, the music become more upbeat. Everyone was clapping as she and Michael seemingly glided across the golden floor. She looked up at his eyes, and they were a beautiful brown color. It was bright and captivating, and for a moment, she was lost in them.

"Hey." he whispered as he leaned close to her ear, snapping her out of her daze. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" She blinked, and looked up. He was smiling at her, and looked a bit concerned at the same time as to why she was zoning out. "Um... yeah, I'm alright." she answered. Michael kissed her forehead and held her close to him.

"Whatever it is, let me know, okay?" he said. "I'll always be here." He was warm, and his presence was comforting, so she decided to lean on him and close her eyes again, just to hear his heart beat. Then, as she opened her eyes, everything and everyone was gone, and she was standing by herself in the middle of the now-empty ballroom.

Or so at least she thought she was alone.

The lights began to flicker, and the sounds of footsteps began to echo loudly in the room. With nowhere to hide and the room soon flooded in darkness, she had no choice but to keep running towards what she thought was the end of the room, until she bumped into something... or someone.

The lights finally came back on, revealing bloodstains all over the mirrors and the floor, and in front of her was Michael, who was wearing the same gray shirt and black vest, but his clothes were also spattered with blood, and so was his handsome face. "Where are you going?" he asked, his hands gripping her upper arms tightly. "We're not done yet!" His smile was maniacal, and his eyes were crimson and glowing with insanity. "I let you go once... it's not going to happen again!"

She tried to wrestle from his grip, but it was vice-like. He flung her towards one of the mirrors, smashing it and knocking her unconscious. Her body lay limp amidst a sea of shards, crimson flowing from the side of her head, as he effortlessly picked her up.

"You can only get so far..." he said, a sick smile splitting across his face as he carried her out of the ballroom. "And you will only get as far as I want you to."

- - -

Her head was still spinning as she woke up to find herself in a very luxurious bedroom. Unlike the room she slept in earlier, this one appeared more luxurious and the design was more ornate. There was a boudoir near the large, locked windows, and the four-poster she was on had the softest of silk and mattress on it. From the looks of it, she was already in the master's bedroom.

"You're awake... that's good." came the voice of Michael Royston. He seemingly appeared out of nowhere and sat at the foot of the bed. She instinctively curled up to protect herself, but he merely laughed and tugged at the blankets. 

"There's no need to be so scared, darling. It's not the first time you and I have shared a bed together, right?" His smile would've been breathtaking had it not been for his crimson eyes that glowed eerily.  "Come closer now... I don't bite..." He crawled up the bed and on top of her until he hovered over her. He carefully studied her face, and he caressed it gently, causing her to flinch at how cold his hand was.

"Yes... it is you." he said, nuzzling her neck. "We never got to finish what we started, have we?" One of his hands held both her wrists in place as another went under her shirt, caressing the skin and eventually resting on her breast.

She tried to kick and flail, but his grip tightened, indicating that resistance is futile. "P-please..." she whispered, her voice trembling so much that it was reduced to a whisper. "Please... just let me go..." Michael chuckled. "Let you go?" he said. "Like last time? No, no... I swore that would be the last time I did that." He crashed her quivering lips with his, tasting and savoring every bit of her. He eventually pulled away after a few minutes with a satisfied look.

"You still taste as delicious as always." he said as he finally released his grip on her wrist, opting to tying both of her arms with a blanket on the bed posts. "I can't have you running around, so I need you to stay here while I tend to some things." He kissed her on the forehead and left her there.

She was in tears as he left. She didn't know him yet it seemed he was all-too familiar with her, and the way he touched and kissed her was abhorrent. Her mind screamed for escape. I gotta get out, she said, trying to yank the restraints free. I gotta get out, this place will be the death of me!  He had tied her up rather tightly and there was no room for her to be able to get out unless she broke her wrist. 

She steeled herself as she began to twist and turn her wrist until she heard the telltale snap of bone. It wasn't a break, but more of a dislocation, but the pain burned and coursed through her veins. She did her very best not to scream but instead, let out a gasp of pain as she was finally able to slide one of her arms out of the bonds, and undid the other. 

With both hands free, she placed the dislocated join back with a push, using a pillow to cushion the pain. A few shakes and a spin, her wrist was back. There was a bit of swelling but she didn't mind. She listened for any sounds of Michael making his way back to the room but fortunately there was none. Slowly, she approached and opened the door, revealing another hallway that forked to left and right at the end. 

Still there were no footsteps, so she exited and ran down the hallway that led to the right. 

She found herself in a large library with a solitary figure cleaning the tables. He was a young man with sandy-brown hair and green eyes. Upon seeing her, he had half a mind to scream, but chose to hold it in as she begged him to stay silent. 

"Wh-who are you...?" she asked. 

"Emile, milady." he answered, bowing down. "I work as a servant, as you can see. Please, follow me." He grabbed one of the books in the bookshelf, which opened a smaller passageway leading to what seemed to be a wide cellar. "Right this way, please."

"Wait... why are you helping me?" she asked, her suspicions high. "What do you know about this place? What is wrong with Michael?" 

"You have to trust me, milady." Emile said as he ushered her in the small passage. "My brother and I are the only ones you can trust, and believe me, you are in greater peril than you think." 

The passage was not very long, but it smelled dank. The moldy rock wall was her only guide as there were no lights, and Emile's voice was her only guide. 

"Do not stray, just keep going forward." 

Finally, they were able to reach the small wine cellar at the end. The barrels were stacked one on top of the other, with its contents leaking through the gaps in the wood. Some bottles and a couple of glasses were strewn atop a small, wooden table. There sat a much older man with the same hair color as Emile. 

"Emile, who did you bring this time?" he said in a rather harsh tone. "If the master finds out --" 

"He will not!" Emile said. "Basil, she is in danger. I saw her come from the direction of the master's room, and you know what that means." The older man eyed her, his brown eyes scanning her from top to bottom, and a glimmer of familiarity was in his eyes before he poured himself another drink from another bottle. 

"She's doomed, and damned." he said. "Just like us!" 

"Brother, please, we have to help her out of here." 

"And? Suffer the Master's wrath? Look what he did to me?!" He raised his right arm, or what remained of it, since the lower half was gone. "How many times do we have to do this, Emile? At the end of the day, we're all doomed and damned." 

She was terrified at how Emile's brother was acting. He kept on going about being "doomed and damned", but none of it made sense to her, and not knowing was the scariest part. 

"If you will not help," Emile said. "then I do this alone." He looked back at her. "You may wish to pour yourself a drink milady, to calm your nerves. Know that you will find solace in this cellar, for nowhere is safe in the mansion."