Page 35 of Ethereally Tainted

They must have been closing in on me if they arrived that soon after I locked my door. The thought makes something tighten in my throat, and I am forced to sit on the floor, leaning my back against the door.

I need to be left alone with my thoughts without anyone bothering me. I was already bothered enough at Grimhill Manor. The only person I could talk to there was Everlee, but we were mostly silent, surrounded by comfortable silence and calm while it lasted.

All I need is to survive the days until I can find somewhere to escape. This place is not as they make it to be, and I can feel the sinister intentions emanating from this place, even though I have no proof of what lies beneath its facade.

At least not yet.

Chapter 13

Grey

“Dude, give me thepoisonous stick.”

My voice fills the room as I take the cigarette from Calvin’s hand, and I feel the smoke’s warmth on my skin.

“It stinks in here,” the girl beside me says in a softly spoken voice, and both me and Calvin glare at her.

“Then open the window.”

Just to taunt Jaqueline, I take an extra long puff from the cigarette, relishing the way the nicotine wraps around me like a blanket and soothes me into a state of relaxation. I breathe out toward her, and her thin lips purse in displeasure before she stomps toward the window and opens it.

The soothing aroma of nicotine from cigarettes has always brought me peace in difficult situations, and now I use them as an escape from reality. It’s an easy way to relax, one that doesn’t include lots of blood and self-harm. When I was thirteen years old, I felt a rush of adrenaline as I inhaled my first puff of a cigarette, the taste of burning tobacco lingered on my tongue and made me feel capable of overcoming any obstacle life could throw my way. I was too naïve to understand the danger of tobacco, not realizing the risks. While other children my age were inside playing video games, I was out at night puffing on my next fix of nicotine. Then again, I never was like the other kids at school; they all had parents who hugged them, gave them everything they needed, and filled their lives with love.

I was just an outcast trying to survive on my own while raising my brother.

Some people can survive the struggles life throws at them, but I made my home in the middle of the chaos a long time ago, a place where I can always find my footing. The sense of chaos has been my constant companion for so long that the feeling of solace and serenity is nearly forgotten. Growing up with parents who disowned you would do that to any person, made even more painful by the feeling of being discarded at the entrance of an orphanage.

There’s a certain rage that comes with living a life of misery, feeling like you’re never enough, and then turning that sadness into something much easier to deal with–anger. As long as I don’t feel any sorrow and push away all of my emotions, I can survive this burning inferno. All I have to do is get through my remaining time here before I am free, and then I’m finally going to meet my little brother, whom I’ve protected all my life. He’s the only one I’ve ever cared about and probably the only one I will care about more than anything.

When I was nine, my parents concluded that my brother, who was six then, and I were too difficult to manage, so they decided to remove us from their lives. They had never been reliable parents, but at that moment, I saw their true colors–their coldness and brutality–for the first time.

It’s not just that they kicked us out, but they also did everything in their power to ensure that we got kicked out of every orphanage to which we went. I will never forget the feeling of never-ending homelessness, always searching for a safe place to call home. I shudder at the thought of those lonely nights, holed up in the corner of a street, desperately trying to protect ourselves from the rain while we stayed hidden from our parents who were out searching for us. As if that wasn’t enough, they always tried to kick someone down who was already at the bottom of the sea.

Jaqueline’s movement draws me back from my thoughts, returning me to the present. The wind floods the room from the window she opened, and she moves in even closer to me than before. Her T-shirt and shorts don’t provide enough warmth for the temperature outside despite it still being summer. The raindrops hit against the window panes, creating soft drums that fill the room with desolation. I still recall the chill of the gentle mist of the rain on my skin and the nights I sat on the street with a cigarette in my hand, shielding my brother from the cold while waiting for the sun to rise. The rain used to fall heavily during those nights, providing me with comfort, a time before I grew so hard and emotionless toward others.

I’m a shadow of my former self; all I feel is deep, simmering anger beneath the surface. Nothing is left inside me anymore, no compassion and certainly no remorse. I’m not even affected by the way I know I’m hurting Jaqueline’s feelings whenever I reject her, despite her nordic blue eyes pleading with me like a lost puppy.

This borderline sickness I have is like a parasite, slowly burrowing into my brain and consuming my very essence.

As her manicured hands come closer to my leg, her nails coincide with her eyes, and her touch makes me want to jump further away from her. I grit my teeth and try to push back the bile that rises in my throat when I’m near her. On the contrary, if I moved away from her, I would only upset her in the long run. Even if I don’t care about her emotions, I cannot fucking stand the high pitch of her whiny voice when she doesn’t get what she wants. I have more important problems to tackle than her petty tirades. Attention seeker is what I call it, especially when she expects us-Calvin, Aubrey, and I–to care for her.

I take another puff of the cigarette before exhaling toward Jaqueline beside me. The smell of the poison stick will settle in her ash-blonde hair that she has chosen to keep down, which will take forever to get rid of the stench in her hair. Amusement fills my body at the thought of it, and I smirk before reaching out the stick to Calvin, who grabs it with appreciative hands.

We all have to save on the pack of cigarettes we share since they are both expensive as hell and difficult to come by, so we don’t want to waste any. Those times Jaqueline decides she wants attention by refusing to smoke–and yes, she makes it very clear by telling us how disgusting we are for smoking, but then the next day she smokes half the stick–the package lasts for several days.

With the bottle of Smirnoff Ice firmly in their grasp, Aubrey perches themselves in Calvin’s lap. Their black and white flannel shirt fits in with the blanket surrounding them, providing warmth in the otherwise cold room. If not for Jaqueline’s prodding, I would have kept the window shut tight. Despite the warm summer temperature outside, the draft still brings a chill into the room, and the wind only amplifies the coldness.

Dankworth Institute patients aren’t allowed to wear whatever they like, so they usually opt for more comfortable and relaxed clothes. It’s okay to wear various clothes, but the warden doesn’t allow strings or anything dangerous. I think that the reason is more for patients not to strangle staff than for patients to hang themselves.

There are only monstrous creatures inside Dankworth Institute, psychotic in one way or another, some more than others. No one is innocent, if innocence even exists in this world.

Taking a swig of the vodka, Aubrey sets the bottle down on the floor with a loud clang. They take a puff from the stick before exhaling the smoke toward Calvin’s mouth, then lean in to kiss him passionately. The way it looks, they are about to eat each other, so I’m preparing to run for the hills before they have a full-on kissing session.

Jacqueline is the only one who refuses to smoke today, although she usually does. Her eyes are a deep, dark color as she taps her foot in an effort to restrain her emotions of anger. It’s obvious that something has gotten into her and I don’t care about that.

It’s not my fault that I don’t want to fuck her today. We have fucked a few times, and she’s clung to me like a parasite. It’s annoying, especially since she usually has sex with so many other guys. So no, I don’t want to fuck her because I have other things on my mind.

Someone else.

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