Page 5 of Ethereally Tainted

Is it better to grow up here, to not remember your childhood, or is it better to experience a taste of freedom before it is stripped from you?

The former seems more appealing. Too fucking bad I received the latter.

Aurora has purple tips at the end of her hair that perfectly match the color of her eyes, which are unique, and I can’t help but wonder if she has an eye disease. That’d make the two of us. Even though her eyes give me chills, they’re still a stunning shade that highlights her beauty.

The chestnut shade of my hair is highlighted by the navy blue color at the ends, a look that I despise but can’t deny its attractiveness. The master forces us girls to have our hair like this, another thing to control us. His power looms over us all, a heavy presence that chills my heart.

Somehow I admire Aurora because she’s always so composed and doesn’t accept the master’s threats. I wish I had the ability just to shut the entire world out, but it’s impossible, as every sound around me gnaws at my eardrums, begging to creep inside my ears and ruin them.

Watching Aurora, I know that time has flown by as the sun’s warm rays are now illuminating her face, and the clock is ticking, letting me know it is well into the forenoon. Everyone will soon wake up and begin their day, but I haven’t seen my roommate yet. I cannot help but wonder where she is. It’s unlikely for her not to be around. Then a horrible thought passes through my mind, chilling my bones to their very extent as my eyes search the room. Did he take her?

God, I hope not.

The fear of that thought torments my mind like a monster putting its claws in me and proceeding to rip off my skin. That is, until a tight grip on my arm makes me look around in confusion.

“The Master has summoned us.”

The voice is hoarse, like a whisper, but barely audible, as if the person has never used it before. Confused, I stare at the young person in front of me. He stands there with his arms crossed, looking at me impatiently, but there’s no escaping the worried look in his brown eyes that reminds me of the coffee some of the staff drink in the mornings. He tries to maintain an unmistakable and influential aura but fails miserably and instead looks like he will shit his pants.

No thanks.

I mutter something under my breath before following the boy. It is not until I walk behind him that I notice his ruffled hair, which looks like he just woke up. His black T-shirt is turned inside out, with the seams displayed and the patch sticking out. His eyes are bleary, and his clothes are disheveled, a sure sign that he hurriedly dressed when he heard the master calling for us. And rightfully so; no one wants to be the victim of his punishment.

Despite my repeated attempts to slow my breathing, my heart continues to race, making me more anxious. My thoughts are scattering in the wake of a tsunami inside my body, making me unable to focus on anything else than what lies ahead.

What could he possibly want to talk to us about?

It is not one of his games yet, and no one else in the parlor room seems affected by this sudden meeting.

Together, we enter another corridor which I know is opposite the master’s, and a narrow hallway opens up into a dark, foreboding chamber, where vermin dart along the wainscotting. An absurdly deformed person, likely the house’s very first builder, is framed in thickly dust-caked frames on the walls, and a chill spreads across my arms, causing goosebumps to appear.

Once in the room, I cannot help but notice the tattered curtains hanging next to the window, but little to no view. The wall outside is filled with an array of jagged holes, each a home to varieties of buzzing insects.

In the center of the room stands the master, dressed in a black suit with his sleeves drawn up, showing off his wrinkled, liver-stained arms.

He stands there with a box in his arms, the contents of which I cannot see. Several other people are lined up like statues along the once white walls to give a fresh face. Now, they are a rotten color, full of dirt and cobwebs. I can only imagine that the sour smell is coming from the walls.

With me in tow, the guy hurries over and stands next to a girl. She’s in a pink and white dress that looks like it would have been popular in the eighteen hundreds, with an empire-waisted top and the neckline squared and low.

The solitary window in the room yields no light, but instead throws shadows that play with your thoughts, making it appear as if something is there that actually isn’t. Looking around this place, you can almost feel the presence of things that don’t exist.

With as straight a back as I can muster, I lower my gaze to the ground, noticing the dirt and dust encasing my bare feet. There must be at least ten people here, and all are silent with their heads and eyes lowered.

Never address the master unless he demands it. Another one of his lessons that left me with a swollen eye and bruised lip.

An insatiable curiosity swells in me as I hear something clattering inside the box he holds, and I find myself wanting to disobey his orders, despite my better judgment. The sounds of something metallic scrape against each other as he moves around, trying to prepare something. His footsteps thud against the floor as he walks steadily and confidently toward the person closest to the window at the farthest end of the room.

A soft, almost inaudible whimper comes from the teenager’s lips farthest away.

“Now, now. Take it easy!” the master barks, his voice reverberating off the walls as he fumbles with something from the box.

I can hardly make out the details of the situation because of the girl’s piercing screams of terror, but it is undoubtedly awful. Everyone in this room is equally terrified as we wait for our verdict without seeking any explanations as to what will happen in the coming minutes.

We know better than to question him.

A slow and steady match has been lit beneath my center, deep beneath my stomach, making me feel as if I am on fire and about to combust.

I hear the master’s labored breathing getting louder as he nears me, and my fear only intensifies with every passing second. In the dark room, all I can hear is the groaning of the others, and the heartbreaking sobs of a woman ringing in my ears, both a taunt and a reminder of my own upcoming destiny.

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