Warning: this chapter jumps around quite a bit. It is frustrating but necessary.
Flesh and Memory
Somewhere near Ipswich, England
The girl had never harbored a fear of the dark. She rationalized that if she could not see the evils lurking there in the expansive shadow, they could not distinguish her from the blackness either. Her practical view, however, did not help her in these particular circumstances. The blood rushing in her ears was far too loud, her breathing too quick to deny the reality that hounded behind her. She could not perceive the monster, but the comfort of it not seeing her was no longer there and she found herself afraid.
Afraid of the dark, afraid what fate would befall her if the beast's swiftness surmounted hers. She was afraid that, in just a fleeting moment, her life would flicker, vanishing in a plume of smoke.
Blindly around yet another twist of the hallway she hurried. Yet, as she struggled not to stumble on her dress's undone hem, the young girl grasped the horrifying truth that she had met the end of the corridor.
"Please! Please don't kill me! I-I'll do whatever you want, just please. Oh God, please have mercy!" The girl pleaded, collapsing hard on her knees. Warm, wet beads dripped onto and stained the girl's nightdress, although it seemed her tears had no effect on the brute before her. Panic was plainly written across her face.
The 'monster's' outline was silhouetted by the full moon brewing outside, its light filtering through the nearest windows. What appeared to be a distorted monster to the girl crumpled on the floor, looked to be a simple man. His eyes held a detached gaze and his thick brows were furrowed as if he was unreservedly perplexed. It seemed as if he hadn't shaved in days, nor even glanced at his reflection for the hair atop his head was also unruly and unkempt.
"I…I'm sorry. I-I don't have any other choice." He mumbled, weakly tearing at his face with dirty fingers. "…Yes. Yes, that's right. I don't have any other choice."
A wicked smile twisted the man's features now as he loomed over the girl, his shadow consuming her small figure. His eyes gleamed with malevolence, glinting strangely in the half-light. The man had forsaken the thought of absolution, creating his own illusion of innocence within his broken mind.
"Would you kindly come along easily, little girl? It would make this situation so very much easier." The brute said, feigning politeness, as he inclined towards the girl crumpled on the ground. He offered a hand to her, welcomingly.
As she reached, carefully optimistic, towards the man's outstretched hand, a single, strangled scream echoed throughout the empty house.
X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X
The weather had been rather unpredictable in England that year. A downpour could spring from the sunniest of days and sunlight broke through the overcasts when rains were predicted. This created many an issue when the young Phantomhive and Middleford departed for Mordaunt's manor. An expectedly clear day turned foul as heavy rain plagued the roads ahead of them. It also caused an already ill-tempered boy to grow even crankier. The bubbly Miss Elizabeth that had accompanied him this trip, however, remained conversational and in high spirits as the clouds rolled in.
Elizabeth vainly attempted to diffuse the uncomfortable silence inside the carriage by babbling about various trivial subjects. Despite her best efforts, the boy's attention she did not even begin to grasp and after several hours of a hollow, one-sided conversation the buggy fell into a rain-filled hush. The occupants of the carriage were both consumed by their own destructive thoughts.
Ciel was being devoured by ways to trick the Marquis into providing evidence of his possible wrongdoings – while also having to agonize over the danger he may be placing his childhood friend in.
The rather naïve blonde, however, was disquieted by the deep frown chiseled into Ciel's features. Her hands twisted and tugged at the light blue fabric of her dress, causing wrinkles that Elizabeth didn't care to notice. An all-consuming surge of negative emotions was raging war inside the young woman, threatening to slay what happiness she clung to. Threatening to shatter the smile on her face and her love for Ciel. However, Elizabeth was nothing if not incredibly persistent, so her smile remained. If only for the sake of her beloved.
In one last, desperate attempt to encourage her darling, Elizabeth fumbled through her dress folds to find the single, rectangular object that she was gambling her hopes on.
"…Ciel? Would you like to play cards?"
X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X
It was a quiet day. Not a single cry or moan resounded through the warren of tunnels. The macabre sounds had not amplified in the heads of the cellmates, further scarring their fragile minds. None of the usual bodily fluids painted the walls red and the various other colors that were produced when people were dilapidated. The meals had been delivered through the slot in the iron door without much difficulty and on a relatively consistent schedule.
It made Agatha itch - the spindly legs of suspicion crawling over her like a spider across its web. She did not trust the silence of today.
"Augustus,"
"…Hmm?" He replied halfheartedly, nearly five minutes later.
"Something's wrong. There haven't been any of those monsters come through here today."
Another moment passed. The subject matter had not quite piqued Augustus' interest and, as a result, his responses were spoken at his own leisurely pace.
"Isn't that a good thing?" Augustus yawned, stretching out across his cot like a lazy, contented cat. Unlike with things that particularly intrigued the young man, uninteresting things were not given much of a thought. In turn, they were responded to with the thoughts of person of a more average intelligence.
Agatha scrunched her nose in aggravation, resisting the near overwhelming urge to kick her elder brother into attention. Even so, her frustrating sibling had a very valid point. She supposed she should be appreciative for the doubtlessly brief reprieve that the day's silence granted them. Still, it did not sit well in the young girl's gut.
"I suppose." She relented, quite suddenly feeling strangely weary of the constant one-sided conversation. Her brother had grown progressively more distant as of late. He talked to her less nowadays, although he never talked all that much after the kidnapping anyway, it still rather bothered the girl.
"...Do you think Mable is still alive?" Augustus mumbled into the still air, apparently feeling the urge to connect to his little sister yet again. A flicker of solidity, of reality flashed through the boy's eyes - A brief resurfacing of the person that once was.
"...Probably not." She spoke carefully, as if a single misplaced, wrong word would scare him off once more. "Though, I would prefer it if she weren't." Agatha instantly regretted letting her thoughts slip, and began a fruitless attempt at backtracking.
"Why the hell would you prefer that?" Anger - an unexpected reaction, in all truth. Agatha had expected the introverted boy to withdraw inside himself once more.
Deciding to ignore her precautions around Augustus, if only until he retreated back into his god-forsaken head for another unmarked span of time, Agatha proceeded communicating her thoughts. Perhaps she was desperately hoping that the particular austerity of her next words would chain him to their presented actuality.
"Imagine our dear Mable going through what we are subjected to." Agatha began, being mindful to keep her voice calm and well-controlled as she spoke. "If this...Hell, for lack of a better word, has any sense of humanity to children then I would expect the adults' torture to be much worse."
"Agatha." Augustus interrupted frostily, eyes narrowing at the young girl's disgusting suggestion. " Stop."
Agatha swallowed hard, refraining from expressing her hurt and keeping her face straight. Allowing oneself to become overly-emotional in their particular situation would only lead to a weakening of resolve, and, in turn, her downfall. With this in mind, Agatha steeled herself and tried to ease away the somber mood.
"You started it," She grumbled, a small ghost of a smile touching at her lips.
A series of soft chortles bubbled up and escaped Augustus, who dared to glance over at his sister and give a worn smile in return. "Don't be ridiculous, Agatha, you did." At that, both disregarded the risk of retribution and let out a succession of loud, raucous cackles, breaking the tension and the silence that had been slowly eating away at their beings.
X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X.x.X
The carriage had arrived when the sun began its disappearance from the sky. All of its occupants had more bumps and bruises than when they had departed from the Phantomhive Estate and were certainly in a fouler mood. Only the promises of comfortable beds [and clothes for a particular young lady] kept them from glowering at the man that opened the door to their host's rather large residence.
The man in the entryway, Everett Mordaunt, Ciel presumed, was dressed accordingly to very recent fashion, which came as a surprise to the travel-weary group. He was a man of average stature, who had few wrinkles and a strangely alluring presence. While his eyes shown grey from age, the man himself did not appear to be all too old, which was quite the conundrum as he was reportedly well past his prime. He was shockingly fair skinned, although his dark-themed attire may have assisted in the contrast with his flesh.
A controlled, yet all-too disconcerting smile stretched across his face as he welcomed his new guests. No one bothered to pay it any heed, as the protest of their muscles and joints disguised any suspicion.
"Welcome to my home, Ciel Phantomhive. Your arrival was much awaited."
Many thanks to Phantom Ou for your review! I particularly enjoy it when people take the time to write long reviews and yours was very helpful and encouraging :) I am glad you like the story so far! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.
