~Mason~
I walk down one of the many deserted corridors to be found in Thornfield, my path lit only by the whispers of moonlight allowed to enter by the heavy, dark curtains shrouding each window. My footsteps echo as I pass the resting place of each of the blissfully ignorant guests as I approach the final passage way leading to the horror, to the secret which clouds any beauty that can be found within Thornfield and destroys happiness for all.
I take a final breath before entering the room to face my most inner demon. I stand in silence for several seconds before I bark out one long, humourless chuckle as I am accosted with a simple room with plain walls, a bed in the centre and a table off to the side. What displeases me so is the sight of a woman, whom I know not to be Antoinette, resting face down on the table, hair in disarray with an empty bottle overturned at her side and a trail of dribble flowing down her chin. There are noises perturbing from her were similar to those of a wild bore, fitting given her state of appearance. I quickly deduce that this must be the maid Rochester pays to keep Antoinette alive but hidden; a drunk, of course, and an ex-whore no doubt. Who else would agree to keep a mad woman in the attic a secret? Alas, she relies on Rochester to feed her addiction so it is not in her interest to spread rumours of her fair employer.
Rochester is more cunning than I anticipated; of course I should not be surprised. If people found out their fine Rochester was married to a mad women those ignorant aristocrats would cut him from their circle and he would surely lose the love of that beautiful governess he's taken a fancy to. I worry that Rochester has in turn underestimated the cunning of my stepsister. With a minder out cold could she not just escape and cause havoc in a way only she can?
A shrill burst of laughter cackles through the air, turning the room colder causing the house as a whole to shiver, thus awakening me from my silent musings and back to the task in hand. A second cackle rings out and alerts me to the inhabitant of an inner room that can clearly be found through a door in the far wall of the room. I have found the subject of my mission. I stride through the room with the intention of flinging the door open, but I find it locked. I shake my head as I have once again underestimated the slyness of Rochester. I glance around the room impatiently looking for the key, spotting it hanging from a rusty chain around the oaf's neck. I rip it off and fling open the door, with considerably less extravagance than I had originally aimed for, but with finesse nonetheless.
I walk slowly through the door giving off a deliberate air of arrogance and authority. What I see surprises me; it is like looking at her mother. She is thin and pale, her eyes are gaunt and lifeless and her hair is a wild mess flying freely in every direction. She is standing in the shadows, shying away from the moonlight filtering in through a thin skylight, wearing only a long white night gown which trails to the floor, her hands are tucked behind her back. The calm ghost like being before me is a far cry from the demon I had envisaged making the evil noise just a few minutes ago. I smile at her, deciding reassurance would be the best way forward. As I do so I take a step further into the room, at which point her face morphs from one of serine calm to that which is similar to a gargoyle, finally representing the demon I know lies within. A hideous scream erupts from her gut and she lunges forward, removing her hands from behind her back, revealing the carving knife she has been hiding. I turn to escaped the room, but she is too fast grabbing my arm and stabbing it repeatedly. I cry out from the searing pain before realising that I have fallen to the floor and the room is spinning. Black dots begin to affect my vision and I feel darkness quickly approaching. I try to fight, but it is no use. I feel myself being dragged away, where I do not know. The pain in my arm rapidly becomes to much and I lapse into unconsciousness.