Page 18 of Ethereally Tainted

Of the four of them, one stands out, their voice booming and their hands flailing about as they speak. While the other patients in the dining room are loud enough to make my skin crawl and pale enough to pass for ghosts, these people seem more tolerable; their conversations are more muted, and the guards aren’t paying them any mind.

Yeah, nope, not sitting with the other patients.

That leaves me with the only choice of sitting with the four people who appear to be around my age. With every heavy, leaden step, my body resists moving forward, despite my slow approach to them.

My old anxiety returns like a clammy mist in the crowd, making me want to run away. I can still feel the sensation of my grandmother driving me to school and my heart pounding with apprehension, but now is not the right time to experience that same trepidation.

When a loud, echoing scream suddenly reverberates through the air, I feel my grip on my food slip, my body tensing up with fear. What on earth was that screaming about?

In the center of the dining room is a girl whose hair is uncombed, hanging in strands in a wild manner as she tries to fight one of the guards. Her eyes are dazed, full of panic and fear at the guard’s touch on her. I swear I see a smirk tugging at his lips as if he finds her weakness amusing, something to laugh at. Within a few seconds, she is on the floor with her chin pressed to it and her arms behind her back, much like mine were the day before. She continues to scream, a sound that pierces my ears, and everyone’s attention is on her. Although I’ve never met her, I cannot help but feel deep sorrow for her. She is unstable, but panic is clogging her hazel eyes. Even though I usually shut off my ears when the sounds around me become too overwhelming, it doesn’t seem to help this time.

The entire situation has me more unsettled than before. I change the course of direction and look after an empty table instead, not feeling like interacting with anyone when my nerves are so on edge.

But of-fucking-course, there are no tables available.

When my eyes scan the room at that moment, I see that a person at the corner table has their gaze fixed on me. A slight smile touches their lips in a welcoming manner, allowing me to gain the courage to approach them all.

“Hi.”

I offer a smile and sit in the vacant chair without waiting for an invitation. I’m done hesitating and need to lay my cards on the table to get rid of the nerves.

“Hi. I’m Aubrey. I go by they and them pronouns, so if you’re against non-binary people, just leave.”

Aubrey offers a tight smile, which dissolves into a kind one when I return it. It makes me nauseous even to contemplate the idea of people intentionally misgendering others and the abhorrent prejudice displayed in Grimhill Manor, which forbids anyone who doesn’t conform to their specific gender roles.

“That is cool,” I state as genuinely as I can.

I’m charmed by their sassiness and the fact that they can be wholly themselves in a place like this.

I take in their appearance, observing their smooth, dark skin and the way their dark brown hair barely cascades down their back. There is a uniqueness about their face that probably comes from their genetics, and they have a protruding chin and pointed nose to coincide with it.

On their left side is a guy with soft, golden-blond curls hanging from his shoulders and a pair of golden eyes giving off an aura of safety. Something about him gives off golden retriever boy vibes beneath the hard surface that seems impossible to tear through. His hand rests on Aubrey’s thigh while their head rests against his shoulder.

I take in the appearance of his soft cheeks with no defined cheekbone, his tongue prodding it on the inside of his cheek. He only stares at me without saying a word, not even after I offer a smile to him. His only focus is on Aubrey.

Deciding to ignore him, I shift my gaze toward the two other people sitting around the table. One of them eats an apple in her well-manicured nails that shimmer in the chandelier’s light. Although she doesn’t wear make-up, her eyes are well-protruded in a beautiful manner, and aside from the scar that runs between the right corner of her eye and cheekbone, she is attractive. Her eyes are something else though, they stare into mine with a look that tells me I’m not welcome here, despite Aubrey being so friendly.

I really don’t have the energy to handle a self-absorbed bitch today.

She twirls a strand of hair that has fallen out of her high ash-blonde ponytail between two of her fingers and continues to chew on the apple. None of the people except Aubrey offers me their names, so I refuse to give them mine. It doesn’t matter anyway since I’m not trying to make friends. I’m only at this table to get answers to my questions, and Aubrey seems like the talk-active person who will reply.

“What’s this place?” I push my shoulders back, and my chin held high as I await someone’s reply.

The anxiety gnaws inside me, but I push it away, needing to show them I’m not intimidated by them despite their best efforts.

I’m taken aback by the mocking laugh I hear in response to my question, my eyebrows arching in surprise at the disdain. With every breath I take, I feel as if my whole world stops working around me, my blood vessels prodding me to breathe as I take in the sight of the person beside me. Seeing him sit so relaxed yet belying a tense demeanor leaves me speechless. He crosses his arms before leaning back against the chair, which also seems made of plastic like everything else here. As he leans back, I notice the definition of his biceps through his hoodie, and the sight of it fills me with warmth, heating my stomach.

But those eyes. My god, those eyes are the most bewitching part of him; they are like a chain of enchantment that stares piercingly at me, and I am sure he has cast a spell on me. It is as if my body spirals into a huddle before those eyes as they encircle me from head to toe, and I feel too naked in front of him as I embrace myself.

For a fleeting moment, I swear I notice something flaring in his beautiful blue eyes as he tries to contain his emotions. His gaze shifts away in an instant, leaving nothing but a void of emptiness. However, those eyes still have a stunning effect on me that never waivers. Their blue splendor overwhelms me, as blue as sapphires, and I squirm in my gut, feeling a deep desire I’ve never felt before taking hold of me.

Before me is a man whose aura radiates dominance, and I know those sapphires will eventually crush me.

With beauty comes a certain darkness because those who are the most attractive are also the most sinister. My mother was a sight to behold, with her long, curly hair gracefully accentuating her curves and drawing the eyes of any man who stumbled upon her. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen as a child, and envy always filled me when I looked at her, yet her wickedness and evil took over the good parts until there was nothing left of the mother figure I knew. She was beautiful until drugs, along with her mental state, ruined it.

As my mouth feels dryer by the second, I quickly drink the cup’s contents in my hand, yet still aware that his eyes are watching me. There is a sense of being violated and exposed, yet I am strangely enticed by the attention he pays me.

Get a fucking grip on yourself.

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