Page 70 of Tainted Serenity

There’s something about the silence that makes it twitch inside me, compelling me to want to hide in a corner only to never come out, but I take a steadying breath. I won’t be alone for much longer. Hopefully, Grey and Daxton made it to our meeting spot in time.

As I walk forward, I know my imagination must be playing some sick jokes on me because I can vaguely hear the melancholic melody of a piano playing, making my heart’s pace beat up into a cacophonic mess. It takes barely five minutes to make my way through the woody, mysterious corridor, but even so, it feels like an eternity as the memories of being locked in a closet wash over me until all I want to do is take the torches and burn down the entire place in rage.

I know I can’t; I have to play this smart.

I slowly open the next door, yet again realizing how easy it feels to get to the staff’s quadrants. Are they really that confident none of the people will fall out of line that they don’t even lock the doors?

The thoughts churn inside my mind while I enter the corridor outside, straining my ears to hear any possible threats. The coast seems clear, and I arrive at a spiral staircase that I know leads down to the bottom floor where I will meet the others. I start descending the stairs, trying to ignore the fact that the dirt from the stairs cakes over my bare feet and makes me shiver.

The further down I get toward the basement floor, the colder it gets, and I’m glad I chose a dress that covers my arms.

Eventually, I hear the hushed voices of two males. I approach cautiously while pushing myself closer to the walls that are falling apart so as not to be discovered, knowing that it might not be who I think it is.

Then, at the very bottom of the spiral staircase, I spot two males, both of their physiques tall. When Grey senses me near, he glances up toward the spiral staircase, where I am trying to ignore the dizzying glances downward and over my shoulder every few seconds.

Grey’s posture instantly relaxes as he takes me in his arms in a possessive way before kissing me with such ferocity it almost brings me to my knees. I don’t care that Daxton is beside us; all I care about is that I’m finally with Grey again.

I have come to realize that I can never take any moment with him for granted because it can be stripped away any second when you least expect it to, and that is the reason why my heart cannot calm down until I am right in his strong, veiny arms.

“Hello, little one,” he whispers in my ear, making my heart stutter in a dangerous way and making me forget where we are.

Someone clears their throat, and I look over to Daxton, who’s watching us with a cocked eyebrow.

“We have to go if we’re doing this.”

Grasping my hand, Grey walks beside me as we follow Daxton toward another dark-lit corridor.

While continuing forward, the echoing sounds that fill the surroundings cannot be missed. There are hundreds of corridors in the castle, but this one seems to be the oldest. The walls are falling apart, crumbling so rapidly as we pass that I instinctively pull myself toward the center of the corridor, fearing they might collapse on me. Paranoia fills me with an unwelcome feeling of dread, and I hate being as helpless as I was many years ago.

“How do you even know so much about this place?” I shift my attention toward Daxton, keeping my voice hushed.

For several minutes, he keeps silent, only leading us forward without uttering a word.

“Okay then, how did you end up here?”

I doubt he is going to reply to me, given his extended silence, but he looks at me at last. There’s a raging war crossing the ocean in his blue eyes as he flicks them over to Grey, unsure if he should tell us.

“I ran away after Grey took the blame for our parents’ murder,” he finally admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

I have heard this story from Grey before, but hearing Daxton reveal it makes it all the more real. An undercurrent of anger washes over me, knowing he abandoned his older brother, but both Grey and I know that family bonds are worth nothing. I cannot be mad at Daxton either; he did what he had to do to survive, just as I have been selfish many times in my life. Besides, Daxton was there for me when no one else kept me company. He made those months without Grey a bit more bearable, becoming a temporary anchor in the stormy sea of my life.

My heart breaks for Grey, and I glance at him, noticing his clenched fists in an attempt to calm the rage simmering underneath his skin. I see it in his eyes how badly he wants to throw a punch at Daxton, beat the shit out of him until he cannot breathe anymore. I squeeze his hand, letting him know I am here for him.

“The owner of Dankworth Institute found an interest in Grey, and since he knew Arthur, he informed him. Arthur tracked me down two years ago, captured me, and blackmailed me, all as leverage because they are sick fucks.” He continues, his words marked by regret. “I knew I had no other choice than to comply. I couldn’t let your life be ruined all over again,” he says, shifting his gaze toward Grey.

Grey says nothing, only squeezing my hand back as his jaw ticks in frustration. I know, deep down, he cares about Daxton, even when he tries not to. An older brother, reunited with his little brother, only to discover that the younger one wants nothing to do with them.

The corridor feels endless, as if we’ve entered another dimension with no exit or entrance.

“Where are we?” I ask Daxton, noticing how oddly quiet Grey has become.

But I don’t need to ask anymore, because the sign above us tells me enough, and my heart skips a beat. My eyes glance over to Grey, his face drained of all colors, leaving him as pale as a ghost.

The sign hangs above the door in front, slowly withering apart from all the years it has more than likely hung there. Sections of it have started to crackle, causing the wood to splinter and making it harder to read what the bold, tilted letters convey. The text is reminiscent of what a small child would write, with imprecise letters that are either too close or too far apart. Somehow, that makes me even more uneasy than what the sign itself states.

“Morgeu.”

The word is spelled wrongly, making an uncomfortable sensation rush through me as if a breeze has come to claim me. I’m filled with apprehension as Daxton pushes open the old, metal double doors that creak from the old hinges, creating a sound that feels like it’s going to rip through my ears and leave them bleeding. In an instant, a unique smell washes over us, unlike anything I have ever experienced before. Antiseptics overpower the space, even worse than Dankworth Institute’s corridors, and despite the sterile smell, there’s one of decomposition too. A sour underlying tone of something rotten. It feels as if I’m walking into the execution room itself, where they don’t bother putting away the corpses.

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