Page 69 of Tainted Serenity

And then there is the scar Grey gave me when he fucked me.

With my heart thudding hard, I roll down the sleeves of my black dress, casting a final glance in the mirror. “You can do this,” I whisper into the silent space, not believing a word myself.

Pushing away from the mirror, I contemplate what this night will hold. It can only go two ways: either we succeed or we are caught, and fuck knows what will happen then. Arthur will probably execute us on the spot, or he will keep us as his precious trophies for all to use and discard for an eternity.

I make my way over to the bed, crouching down to retrieve the beautiful bracelet I hid here months ago. I had forgotten about it, but I know I cannot do this if I don’t bear it with me. Tucking it discreetly inside my bra, I feel the cool material make contact with my skin.

After dinner a few hours ago, I grabbed the stone under my bed, crimson dried spots covering it, which serves as a reminder of the times when I used it to silence the demons wreaking havoc in my mind. This time, I carefully laid it between the door and the wall, preventing it from closing completely as the doors lock automatically at ten p.m.

The clock on the wall shows nine fifty-nine p.m., one minute left. I sit down on the edge of the bed while fidgeting with my fingers, picking at the skin of my nail beds. It’s now or never—the moment of truth—if this plan is going to work out or not.

The hand on the clock strikes ten, and all the lights go out automatically, leaving the room in a somber darkness. A robotic voice washes over the room like it does all the other nights, void of emotions and sympathy.

“All dolls are to proceed to their beds. Good night,” the voice erupts through the speakers, and shortly thereafter, the locks on the room outside click shut.

Nothing happens with my door. Not a warning alarm, not a click of the lock—nothing. My heart pounds hard as I stare ahead of me, not able to believe my plan worked. With a deep breath, I wait for the next obstacle to come my way. Five minutes after the door locks, guards patrol the corridors to make sure everyone is where they are supposed to be. I have heard them wandering the halls at the same time every night. As long as they don’t pay close attention to my specific door, they won’t notice it’s partly open.

It feels like hours when I wait for the guards to arrive. Five minutes pass, and the guards grumble on the outside as they move closer to my room. The intensity of the situation forces me to close my eyes, trying to keep myself calm. I don’t dare breathe when they’re right outside, my heart feeling as if it will attempt to escape through my throat.

They pass, and I am safe for now.

My eyes are still closed as I sit on the edge of the bed, drifting away in thoughts. I think about how it’s two hours until midnight, approximately a hundred minutes until I have to move toward the staff’s quadrant, and hope that Daxton and Grey have made it there in one piece.

I must have zoned out, because the next time I glance at the clock, it’s ten minutes to midnight. Standing up makes me feel pins and needles, making it harder for me to walk. I fight through it, sneaking over to the door, hoping and praying that Arthur will not see me escaping from the surveillance cameras I know are installed throughout the castle.

The door squeaks open as I silently leave the room, making sure not to make any sound. It’s all about being quick yet quiet, and I tiptoe my way through the corridor, a palpable stillness hanging in the air. The only light in the space is that of the exit sign above, filling the room with a dull green light.

I know it’s not a real exit sign; it’s a manipulation from Arthur, who wants to give us the hope of escape before extinguishing it and punishing whichever doll disobeyed his rules. A faint smell of perfume still lingers in the air from the many women who use their entire bottles to make themselves appear representable to Arthur.

As I make my way forward, the eerie space making goosebumps skitter across my skin, I cannot help but feel as if I am being watched. A freezing chill takes over as I hurry.

Never before has this hallway felt as endless as it does now, but that must be because of the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I can’t help but glance over my shoulder from time to time, and it’s too eerily quiet for me to feel like I am allowed to breathe. A wind sweeps over me, causing my body to shudder as I try to figure out the cause of it.

I feel like that scared seventeen-year-old girl again who did everything to survive Grimhill Manor while praying to whoever would listen that the master wouldn’t find me. I always used to dodge away as often as I could from deadly games all in the name of survival, while letting my body run on sheer adrenaline to take me forward despite it being too exhausted. The same kind of emotions fill me now, and I can’t help feeling the same kind of paranoia wash over me as then.

My brain thinks that Frederick will find that I’m gone now, that he’s the one sitting in the office somewhere in the building, just waiting to catch me. Like a mouse being led to a mousetrap, not knowing its destiny until it is too late.

But it’s not Frederick Grimhill who will ruin my life again—he was murdered right in front of my eyes. Instead, it’s his brother. And he is the most powerful of them both, the most dangerous one.

I reach the end of the corridor without hearing a single sound, which isn’t too surprising considering that all the people on this side of the building are locked in their rooms, forced to go to bed and follow the protocol Arthur and Irene have put up.

Something is wrong, but I can’t do anything but keep moving forward, or I’ll never know if I actually had the chance to escape from here.

There’s a buzzing sound coming from somewhere behind, and my soul almost leaves my body as I flinch.Déjàvu fills me as I near the place where two corridors meet. This is where mayhem broke out before Grey took me out of here all those months ago. My heart sinks at the memory.

I slowly spin around, taking in every corner of the corridor as I spot the metal door further along the hall. The material on the door almost shines as I get closer. There’s something about the door that beckoned me back then, and it does the same thing now.

An unsettling stillness hangs in the air as I approach the door. Despite the fact that it feels damp under my hand, as if a liquid has gotten on it and made it cold, I slowly turn the handle, and the door slides open silently.

I can’t shake the feeling of being watched once again, and a sense of unease takes over all my rational thoughts. This feels too easy, as if something even worse is waiting ahead, lurking in the corners.

The door leads to another corridor consisting of wooden walls and floor, with torches hanging on the sides and casting the room in a dim light, unsettling movement of shadows. An icy grip washes over me as I close the door behind me, noticing how odd it is to have torches lighting up a room in which there are only wooden materials.

I’m following my gut feeling, crossing the creaking floorboards. I remember vaguely that the staff’s quadrant should be straight ahead, knowing that this is just a shortcut to get there faster.

There are no surveillance cameras visible in this smaller corridor, which is even narrower and cramped than the corridor outside all the bedrooms. My shoulders nearly touch each side of the hall, and I have to duck so as not to touch the torches and cause my hair to catch fire.

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