The day that changed my life began like any other. My phone alarm's incessant beeping woke me up at 6:30, and, groaning, I shuffled out of my room and into the bathroom, bumping into the corners of doors and walls along the way. After showering and getting changed- jeans, combat boots and an old Rise Against t-shirt, so inventive- I made myself a cup of tea. I'd cheered up enough at this point to grin to myself at the image of Sebastian Michaelis acting as my butler; "this morning's tea is a two dollar packet of black tea from the local supermarket, heavily sweetened with milk and sugar". Yeah, right. Blame it on the fact that I'd been up 'till 1am reading the newest manga chapter online.
'Morning, Sarah' grunted my stepfather, shuffling into the kitchen. I gave him a sympathetic wince and mumbled a reply. Like any other morning, we both prepared for the day ahead silently; packing lunches and eating breakfast in a quiet rhythm. We're both fairly introverted people, so we get along well. After I'd put on my makeup, I greeted my mum as she came stumbling out. She's a bit more cheerful in the mornings, so she gave me a hug. She 'flopped' on me- it's an inside joke we have, one of us goes completely boneless as we're hugging the other- and I yelped, trying to support her weight and not fall over. Laughing, I kissed her on the cheek and wished her a good day as I made my way outside.
I really wasn't expecting what came soon after. I walked to the station as usual, listening to some classical music because it was a cold day and I feel fairly introspective and quiet during wintery days; I'd arrived at the station and gotten a seat on the train into the city, as usual. I am; well, I was, studying arts at a University in the city. I think I had a history class that day; we were studying the French Revolution. It's strange how these odd things stick in your mind. As the train was passing through an underground tunnel, the lights began gradually dimming. I looked up from my sketchbook and around, but the train suddenly halted, and everything was dark.
'-dy. Miss? Young lady?' I felt presences around me, but it was too short a time to feel anything before I drifted off again. The one thing that noticed was that the voices were British, oddly enough. Afterwards, the first thing that I felt was that my whole body was aching, my throat was dry, and that I wasn't in my bedroom. I knew immediately that I wasn't dreaming. Gasping, I shot upright and, disoriented, threw the thick bedcovers off of me- to find that I wasn't in my normal clothes. I was dressed in some sort of nightgown.
Is this some kind of sick joke? I wondered, looking around me for the first time. I was in an old, chilly room; the walls were made of stone. There was one other bed in the room, but it was empty. This place certainly wasn't modern…There were candles on the walls, for god's sake. Oh, god, what if I'd been kidnapped? Fear began to set in, but I stopped it at once. Fury began to build in my stomach as I looked for a way out. How dare they? Who took me? If they thought I was going to lie down and be murdered, they were fucking wrong. I found my shoes under the bed and put them on, and noticed that my hands were shaking. Adrenaline, I thought dimly. I grabbed a candlestick off of the bedside table- it was heavy, and according to Cluedo, was a good weapon. I suppressed a strange urge to laugh.
I opened the one door that led into a hallway, and was awash with a sense of strong recognition. 'How do I know this place? I've never been to Britain. Am I in some sort of castle?' I muttered to myself wildly. I set off down the carpeted hallway at a brisk walk, listening out for any sounds.. My nerves were on the edge; I could hear my heart hammering away in my chest. The corridor was so silent that I was terrified that my quick breathing would give me away, and I stifled it with my hand. I turned my head to check the other end of the hallway, and as I turned, I felt my body collide with something. Without thinking, I whirled, raising the candlestick in my hand- my heart beating so hard in my chest that I felt it would burst with fear- only to have my wrist gently, but firmly, held in the air by a white-gloved hand.
'My, what a rude greeting' said a cool, low voice.