Page 1 of Tainted Serenity

Prologue

Frederick, 1965

Leaves creaking, bones shattering,and shouts reverberating were all sounds surrounding the manor. The haunted place stood dilapidated and enshrouded by the thick trees of the forest, the façade telling stories of legends that had happened once upon, supposedly to be true.

Were they true? Frederick asked himself as he heated his hands with his breath, attempting to stop himself from shivering because of the overwhelming cold and knowing that it might lead to him being led inside the chamber instead.

His master did not—under any circumstances—allow any vulnerabilities to be shown. When he often displayed feelings as a child, especially a smile, he was strung up to the wall inside the chamber, until one day he finally stopped showing his emotions, if only to please his master and avoid punishment.

It was not so much a chamber as a prison cell, where horrors and tortures happened. The room was decorated with ancient dolls that felt as if they could talk and move, making the brain paranoid, but the worst was the pain inflicted there. If his father had a bad day, being led to the chamber often resulted in Frederick being forced to kill an innocent child who was made a slave doll for the manor.

He had become accustomed to killing people now—better yet, it wasthrilling,exciting, thirst-quenching.

Falling leaves creaked under his feet as he moved away from the door, not wanting to meet anyone, but it was already too late. He steadfastly refused to show any emotions, his heart pounding hard as he listened to the creaking hinges behind him. Frederick turned slowly, fearing to meet his father, but was instead met by his little brother, casting a devastated glance at him filled with emotions untold.

“Arthur!” he called out, not able to fully feel bad for his brother when he himself had survived the horrors their father inflicted.

A palpable tension filled the air as Frederick’s brother stared at him, his expression showing hints of brokenness, as well as anger, his fists clenched until a vein in his neck popped.

“Do you always have to blame me for everything?” Arthur shouted, wincing as his split lips started bleeding once again, trickling down his chin like a beautiful trail of crimson red.

Frederick didn’t say anything to his brother, who was many years younger; only took in his limping leg, swollen eye, and split lip, all caused by their father inside the chamber. A smirk spread across his lips, full of malice, which only made his brother scowl, hatred glinting in the depths of his eyes. Good, let him hate him. As long as his father didn’t find out he was the one who forgot to feed the animals outside.

Family was worth nothing anyway.

“Frederick, Arthur,” a dark voice grumbled from behind, and Frederick turned to see the man standing at the door, a gust of wind ruffling his hair, but the man remained unmoved.

Frederick’s eyes widened slightly before he bowed politely at a ninety-degree angle, respecting his father who never truly felt like one. It was a normal occurrence for the fathers in their generations and the ones before that to remain uncaring of their children, focusing solely on work while their mothers cared for the household.

“My office, now.” The voice was unyielding, leaving no room for argument as Frederick braced himself, gave his father a tight nod, and walked after him, not even checking if his brother followed behind.

The manor was hugely spacious on the inside, full of corridors that led to other rooms, and his ancestors from long before were depicted in haunting paintings throughout the manor’s interior. Wooden floorboards creaked as they made their way through the smaller corridor at the rear, entering it until they eventually arrived at his father’s office.

“Sit,” his father commanded, fixing his tie while staring at his son, who sat down with a neutral expression.

Meetings with his father inside the office never led to anything good, and Frederick steeled himself as he waited. In the corner of his eye, he saw his brother sitting down on the chair beside him and noticed his body flinching when his leg hit the chair’s armrest. The sudden, loud slapping within the prison walls of the office caused his brother’s head to fling to one side in pain as their father struck him, and Frederick did not know how to react to the unexpected turn of events.

Frederick sat still, focusing on a spot on the wall in front of him while ignoring his father and brother, knowing he couldn’t do anything to help his brother, even if he wanted to. Their father was too dangerous, too powerful over their lives.

“Insolent child,” he seethed, settling himself down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk as he stared at Arthur, a disgusted look on his face. “How could I have raised such a son? Look at your brother; he is all the things you will never be.”

A proud look gleamed in his eyes, though Frederick knew it was as fake as his suit. His father was never proud, and if he was, it never lasted for more than a minute. Keeping a neutral expression, Frederick looked at his father, who clasped his hands while resting his elbows on the desk.

Arthur had gone utterly silent beside him, looking at his father while desperately keeping the tears at bay. His father turned his attention to Frederick.

“You turn twenty-one soon, son, and are therefore expected to take over Grimhill Manor and all its occupants.”

Occupants, meaning all the children of different ages who were sold to the manor by parents who didn’t want them. A proud feeling washed over Frederick at the realization that he would take over his father’s business—a great accomplishment, he thought—since that was what he had been raised to do. A smile formed on his lips, he quickly concealed it, knowing that he would have control of all the children, playing with them as his own dolls, just as his father had played with him. He would finally be the one in control of his life, not his father.

“Yes, master. Thank you,” Frederick said, seeing his brother stiffen in his periphery.

His father gave him a curt nod, his lips tightly pressed together before turning his attention to Arthur. “And your role will be to assist him. Of course, you will need a suitable housewife.”

“Why does not Frederick need a wife?” his brother asked in a grumbled voice while their father’s eyes turned darker and narrowed.

“Do not question me! Need I remind you of the punishment you served not ten minutes ago?”

Arthur’s shoulders stiffened as he quickly shook his head, looking down at his lap to avoid their father’s gaze.

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