Page 44 of Tainted Serenity

“The day I turned eighteen,” she simply states, her voice carrying a sense of regret that she tries to mask behind an emotionless expression.

After processing her statement, I am filled with shock, raising my eyebrows in astonishment.

“It was an arranged marriage.”

My eyes flicker to her arm again, connecting the pieces of her story like a puzzle. I realize that each healed scar tells a hidden truth and seems to be more than a few decades old.

“That’s why you turned to self-harm, isn’t it? You were in too much despair to handle being forced to marry him. He played with you like a puppet on strings, just like you do to us.” I state my observation, watching her reaction that soon turns into rage.

“You don’t know anything about me!” She seethes, her voice laced with anger.

But by the way her shoulders tense, her chest rising and falling more rapidly, tells me I have hit a sensitive nerve. As if knowing this, she steps closer until our faces are mere inches apart, but surprisingly, she does not strike me again. She knows I am right, and that infuriates her.

I cannot imagine how horrible it must have been for her to be forced to marry a predator on her eighteenth birthday, and then condemned to spend the rest of her miserable life with him. She may be a devil who deserves to die for all the sins she has committed, but she was once innocent, untainted by the world’s cruelty.

“Don’t you dare pity me,” she seethes. As if my presence has become unbearable, she strides toward the door with quick steps.

“It’s time for you to head to the parlor room for the dress fitting for the ball tomorrow with the other dolls,” Irene simply states, her voice a coldness in the air that sweeps over me like a chilling wind.

Apprehension makes my body tremble as I fear what’s to come, knowing that the last time I was in there, I had to witness Esther killing two other women when she sacrificed herself for me. I will never forget the act of her selflessness, preventing me from having to take the lives of the losing women. When I swallow, it feels like lava travels through my larynx, and I momentarily stop breathing.

I watch as Irene’s eyes narrow down on me, as if expecting me to move right away. When I’m too slow, she pulls me up by my arm, making sure to grace her long nails into the flesh around my self-inflicted wounds. I cannot help the whimper that escapes me, but all she does is stare at me with glee, enjoying every moment of my pain.

“Now then! Get going.”

With that, she goes back to her cold-hearted demeanor, leaving me no choice but to follow her, dread seeping into my soul from the awaiting ball tomorrow.

Chapter 18

Naya

The music playing throughthe elegant room is dramatic, with an undertone of tragedy. It does something to my heart, like a feeling that feels like a cut inside me, and I don’t know how to act. In one corner of the large room are several musicians who are all focused on the instruments they play with well-trained intelligence.

Darkness has fallen over the surroundings, casting the room in a somber light as the music plays, and I look out over the sea of people dancing around. Dramatic movements matching the music make out the majority of the people.

They’ve outdone themselves here, and all the magnificent atmosphere radiates across the room.

There must be over a hundred people of all genders and appearances, all appearing to be between twenty and thirty years old. I recognize some of the women from the other days; they are pawns in this doll game just as I am, entertaining to some.

Now everyone is well clad in beautiful dresses in many varieties of layers and colors, all equally as stunning. It is noticeable that Arthur and Irene have planned this ball for a long while.

With closed eyes, I try to pretend as if I am somewhere else than here, and I nervously scratch my wrist at a fast pace. As the pain becomes unbearable, I start picking at the skin on my nail beds instead, welcoming the stinging sensation that has a gasp leaving me. I focus on the chorus of music coming from somewhere far away.

It’s a melody of tragedy, where accordions, piano and violins are mixed with what sounds like a chorus of people singing. It sounds drastic and macabre, giving off a gothic feeling that perfectly suits the aura inside the room. Hell, the entire manor looks like a castle from the Victorian era, precisely like Grimhill Manor’s interior.

It appears to be the same song, but every two minutes, it becomes increasingly more dramatic until it slows down, and then that process repeats all over again.

I swallow a liquid of something that feels like fire burning through my throat as I stand at one of the tables at the side of the ballroom. At first, I was hesitant to drink anything at all, knowing what horrible things could happen within these walls, but now is the first time in months since arriving here that I feel remotely free.

This isn’t freedom. I know that. But if I close my eyes hard enough while listening to the musicians play, I imagine Grey here with me, dancing the night away as we are embraced in each other’s arms. The thought of that has my heart plummeting to the edge of a cliff as I try not to think about the reality of my situation. He is not here, but I am, and that feeling of loneliness has never felt as bad as it does now.

I stand at the side while watching the majority of the people dance, admiring the way in which their bodies move naturally to the flow of the music. They are each partnered up in pairs of two, while the male role takes on the part of leading the dance. The combination of graceful movements and expressions has left me feeling mesmerized. Their movements aren’t fast and hurried like I would have anticipated, but fluid and sensual, with a touch of tragedy.

As I observe a couple moving gracefully across the polished floor, I’m struck by the air of solemnity that surrounds their every movement. From the way they look at each other, with a sense of intensity and passion only lovers can give, I know they are more than just dance partners. I swallow harshly, knowing how displeased Arthur will be when he spots them. I hope he doesn’t.

The way they complement each other with their gowns and suits, the matching colors, the air they exude, and their passionate chemistry, leaves my heart aching. My attention is drawn to the woman in an entrancing gown that floats ethereally whenever she moves. I barely recognize Esther now in all her beauty; she is the one who saved me during that hideous hide-and-seek game. She sacrificed herself for my sake despite not knowing me.

As if sensing me near, she looks up from the man she dances with and offers me a weak smile. In some way, I am happy for her and return the smile.

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