THE ATTIC

The attic door was always locked for a good reason. People did not go inside the attic for any purpose, and as a result most of the closets were filled to the brim with extra equipment, the basement consisting of old furniture and abandoned knick knacks that once filled the East Wing.

Y had already taken some of the older furniture and used it for her room on the edge of the Central Wing, two rooms away from the East Wing. An antique chair with a green floral pattern, an oak coffee table, an oak writing desk, a chest of drawers, even a solid trunk used to store various bed cloths and more precious items were all taken from the basement and stored in her room which looked more like it should belong on a period drama than within the 21st century.

Not that she was one to speak. She dressed much like a period piece herself with long skirts and frilled blouses, of vests and dresses meant for Edwardian times she was certain, but it established a character of seriousness, and perhaps delicacy, for her and she was not inclined to change it because it raised a few brows.

She had heard the kitchen staff talking about the attic as she was helping to prepare some spice carrot soup, chopping away in the corner when she overheard Daisy speaking to Holly:

"You know, I've never actually seen that attic being put to use."

"They say a monster lives up there." Daisy scoffed.

"It's no monster, it's just a ghost. That's where the old doctor had his practice, and you know how terrible doctors were back then in mental asylums." She raised her brow at this but said nothing at the time. "A and B used to go up there all the time and look at what happened to them."

"I'm finished with the carrots." Y cut in, disliking people speaking about A and B in front of her. They did not deserve to be part of the rumour train, they had suffered enough during their time alive.

"Thank you, Yoriko, we always appreciate your services." She took off her apron with a smile.

"Always happy to help."

The curiousity did not pass for her, however. A narrow wooden staircase led up to the attic where the door was paler than all other doors in the house. The ring of keys on her hip jangled with each movement, her boots clicking against the steps as she took hold of the door handle.

Naturally, it was locked. She took the keys and tried them, each one that she had not tried before. The keys rattled in the lock but none of them opened it. Until she got to the last one. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open.

The skylights provided a glow to the space in front of her, casting a buttery light in the small, cramp space.

This was A and B's sanctuary, a place where they could be themselves. She was, of course, never invited nor did she ever ask. She never wanted to intrude so it felt personally awkward standing where they once stood then.

She breathed in, the dust following her movement.

There was no furniture to be had, except for a few pillows in the centre alongside some thin sheets of fabric pinned to the low ceiling with a nail. A single unlit candle sat amongst the pillows, various sheets of paper scattered about the enclosed space as she bowed down to get inside, lifting the fabric so she could step into the sacred space.

It was strange being there, like she was intruding on a secret, but her curiousity had gotten the better of her as it so often did. She tucked her skirts underneath her and sat on one of the pillows, gently picking up the pieces of paper trying to decipher their codes.

Tiy lew bir qwkxinw gwew.

She recognised the code, knowing it for being the very code she had created at fourteen to pass messages between the three of them in class. One letter left on the computer keyboard, she had no such keyboard on her just then, and it had been so long since she had used the code she could no longer recall what letter meant what on her own.

The answer came with a slammed door. She jumped, and stood up, knocking her head on the ceiling as she saw that the door was now shut. She immediately went to it, trying to ram it open. It remained firmly in place, as though it were nothing more than a fixture on the wall.

Then she heard scribbling and when she turned around she saw that the candle had been lit and that words were appearing on the pieces of paper.

Tiy agiyks bir glcw xinw gwew

Tiy le wub slbfwe

Rgua ua iye aolxw fwr iyr

She tried the door once more, shaking it violently, curse her compulsive need to investigate.

The door finally caved, and she stumbled down the stairs, the door slamming shut behind her, the lock clicking in place.

Y stood there for some time, trying to regulate her breathing. Eventually, she returned up the stairs to try to open the door once again but found that it was locked once more. She went to grab her key, but it was no longer on the ring.

She would not enter the attic ever again.