Page 23 of Tainted Serenity

A howling echo of whimpers leaves me, and I barely notice the way some guards come inside to carry me away, all the while everyone in the room stares at me like an exotic animal in a zoo, some with distasteful glares and some with admiration.

I perceive nothing but the ringing in my ears, but I feel the guards grunt in frustration as they drag me away from the tearoom. The fact that I am being treated like this is nothing out of the ordinary, not when considering I was born with tragedy running through my veins.

Chapter 9

Naya

Ashes surround me, anaftermath of the flames that previously danced upon the trees. The smell of burned branches and leaves still lingers in the air, making their way into my nostrils. All that remains now from the surrounding nature is ashes, which lie in drifts in front of me.

“Ashes, ashes. We all fall down!”

With a pulsing heart, my head whips to the side in an attempt to see anything. No one is there, yet the voice continues to sing. The same voice, timbre, and tone that I heard in the woods the first day.

Sweat runs down my back and clings to my shirt, which becomes more soaked with each horrible second that passes. Every cell in my body feels one thing; the inevitable is yet to come. That feeling crawls across my skin, forcing its way under it with its fangs, and it’s as if an army is preparing itself to strike. Yet, nothing happens.

While I stand here on the withering grass, I let it devour my feet, hiding them just as the imposing buildings hide me while looming above. There’s no way to avoid the inevitable; nowhere to escape.

The wind grabs hold of my hair, causing me to stumble forward before I fall to my knees with a loud thud. I expect the grass to make the surface softer, but the ground below me is no longer a greenish-brown, the color when fall drifts into winter. Now, the ground is a sticky blanket of red, contrasting with the surrounding snow-covered landscape. It no longer smells of freshly cut grass and meadows; instead, a metallic tang spreads as I lift my hands in front of me, noticing the blood on them. My throat constricts as I notice the ruby-red colors showcasing the solemn mood.

A weird feeling takes root in my stomach, growing until it becomes stronger. It’s a feeling of a lingeringknowing, crawling inside me like poison. A gut instinct is what it is, making me know that as soon as I lift my gaze toward the gothic-like architecture of Dankworth Institute, I am going to see something horrific.

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself as something demands me to look up. My breaths are raspy, sounding like a worn-out engine sputtering into life as I breathe.

And then I lift my watery eyes, and my breath stops entirely.

Hanging from the large tree branch is a body without any color or life. It’s devoid, isolated, and unmoving.

Scratches mark the area around its pale neck, a horrific scene that looks as if someone has used their nails to tear out the skin. That is until I realize they aren’t scratches at all. It is the noose that has dug so deep into the skin that it appears discolored, a brutal shade of green, blue, and purple. Yet, that isn’t the worst. Rather, the worst part is the frayed skin surrounding the noose, as if torn by an unbearable weight.

The scream that rips from my throat is worse than before; louder, more anguished as I look into the lifeless eyes of the girl who helped me through Dankworth Institute. The woman whose soul was innocent yet plagued by her past.

Rebecca.

Before I can comprehend anything, her eyes open, showing a color so unlike the hazel brown she normally possessed. This one is a grayish tone that leans toward the blue direction with a few red spots, as if some blood vessels have burst. My body acts on impulse, trying to crawl backward to get away from the woman in front of me.

A shrill escapes her throat, a breathy scream, as she hangs from the tree, staring right at me.

“It’s all your fault.”

Her voice is strangled, so far from the soothing voice I loved to listen to. Now it’s hindered by the noose suffocating her. I can do nothing else than stare at her as panic rises through my chest, clouding my vision.

And then she lifts her hand, pointing a crooked finger at me the moments before a black, gooey liquid comes out of her mouth.

As if she’s puking blackness.

––––––––

“TIME TO WAKE UP!”An all too bright feminine voice with a faked cheerfulness exclaims before I feel the impact of a punch being thrown at my jaw.

It feels as if my face is damaged from the very core, while the pain wreaks havoc on every nerve and fiber in my body. A groan slips from me as I sit up, using my palms to support myself and stay steady. Every part of me feels broken, hurting in one way or another. I’m weak; my energy has been drained after the nightmare that left me panting. The remaining fear within taunts me, as if a monster is laughing in my face, finding me pathetic for reacting like this. The image of Rebecca’s body is too clear in my mind—her dead body hanging from a tree that no one cut her down from—and a heavy feeling sits in my stomach.

In a desperate attempt to shake away the discomfort, refusing to acknowledge the suffocating thought, I turn my gaze to the woman standing in front of me. Irene’s black heels are barely visible in the dark, or maybe that is because I’m looking at her with half-open eyes, my eyelids drooping.

As they get accustomed to the light seeping through the door, I notice her face is well done with makeup. Her cheeks are red, highlighted by a blush mixed with red lipstick on her thinner lips. She stares down at me as if I am nothing more than dirt before cocking a manicured eyebrow, causing me to stare right back at her with no emotions displayed on my face.

“Rise and shine. It’s time to meet the doctor.”

At those words, dread falls in my stomach, strengthening the unease I previously felt from the nightmare.

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