Page 2 of Their Pretty Little Monster

The walls and floor shudder once more, a loud groaning sounding as the world is being ripped apart. Mother’s swinging in circles as she hangs there, her sky-blue gown fluttering around her legs, her whimpers a blade to my heart.

Rubble cascades from the ceiling and rolls over the edge, as does the bed in an abrupt slide.

She screams, flinching, but it misses her. My hands sting from how hard I’m gripping the broken floor.

“Just wait, I’ll free you,” I shout, wiping at my damp eyes as I retreat. Fire and ice burn in my gut, churning, fighting inside me.

“Save yourself,” she shrieks. “Remember, I will always love you, my little howler.”

“Don’t… this isn’t goodbye.” I’m up on my feet, frantically checking the room, unsure where to go.

Smoke curls up into the room from outside, and I’m coughing as I lie on the fallen tapestry, its rod no longer attached to it, now hanging nearby. Darting over to it, the floor quivers, a loud croak sounding beneath me, as if everything’s going to collapse in a heartbeat.

I stumble, losing my footing. The room suddenly tilts, and I fall over, all while scrambling to hold on to something as I start sliding toward the edge.

Quickly, I grasp onto the wardrobe feet, the piece of furniture made of the heaviest, darkest wood in our forest. My heart thumps in my veins, but I’m not giving up.

By some miracle, the room doesn’t crumble and settles once more.

On hands and knees, tapestry rod in hand, I inch closer as more bits of the floor break away, tumbling down into the abyss. The air is thick with dust and smoke, each breath leaving my throat raw, my lungs aching.

“Mother! I have something you can grab! I’ll pull you up!” My words are hoarse, barely more than a croak, but I call out, desperation clinging to every word.

Peering over the edge, I search frantically, my heart pounding in my chest.

But she’s not there.

The plank of wood is also gone.

My mother… she fell.

Every inch of me shreds.

“Mother!” I scream, the sound swallowed by the roaring flames down below, coming for all of us. Tears prick my eyes, blurring my vision, my chest aching, almost unbearable.

I didn’t reach her in time.

She’s gone.

Broken, I can’t stop crying. I’m coughing, choking from the smoke strangling my throat. I can take the smoke; what I can’t do is lose my mother.

The wall behind me cracks with a monstrous creak, a jagged line snaking its way across the stone. I don’t waste a second scrambling out of there, my body moving on pure instinct.

I charge out of the room and through the castle, my thoughts on the stone steps, hoping they are strong enough and that I can get out. Each step is a struggle, my body heavy with grief, with fear.

Not a soul in sight… the castle’s empty. Please let all the staff have escaped.

Bursting into the main entertainment room, once grand and filled with life, it’s now crumbling. Tapestries lie in heaps on the floor, the ceiling gaping with holes. Dust and debris rain down, turning the air thick and unbreathable.

Covering my mouth and nose with my sleeve, I rasp on each inhale as I run through to the main hallway. Destruction lies everywhere. My mother’s face flashes before me—silver curls, wide eyes crammed with fear, her last words echoing in my mind.

I reach the stone stairs, hiccupping a tear-filled breath. No time wasted, I descend, taking two steps at a time, slipping on the debris, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. On the ground floor, I pivot to the left, to the front entrance.

The castle’s coming down around me—fallen ceilings, blocks of stone, a thick puff of dust filling the air.

Desperately, I charge to the rear entrance on my right, just off the kitchen, leaping over fallen furniture and skidding but catching myself before I tumble over.

My heart pounds in my throat.

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