Chapter Twelve: The Silver Necklace
Disclaimer: Hellboy characters do not belong to me. However, Erica is mine.
Author's Notes: Thanks for the reviews Blu Embyr, DarkCloudRider, Gestalt, Psycho Llama, and Anonymous person! BTW, ideas and suggestions are still welcome. Remember, a major plot twist is in this chapter! And everyone review, pretty please!
And let the plot twist commence!
Blu Embyr: Yeah, being woken up early is a pain. And lots more action will be coming up shortly!
DarkCloudRider: As to something else going on…I'm purposefully leaving some things unsaid so you have to guess about her relationships with the other characters. And I will send Kroenen over to you, providing I don't get my head lopped off in the process. (You know how he is about fangirls!) And yes, I'm thinking you got the whole "But he's already lost" thing.
Anonymous: It's great to know that you like how I've portrayed Kroenen. I'm sorry to hear that you don't like Erica, but you've judged her too soon. If you're still reading my story, perhaps you'll find that you like Erica a little more by the end of this chapter.
Gestalt: Yes, you will find out about the Shadow Man, that's mostly what the chapter after this is going to be about.
Psycho Llama: Yep, Erica has definitely gone evil! Great to hear you loved the part with the training, it was really fun to write.
"It is not our abilities that show who we truly are— it is our choices." — J.K. Rowling
October 4, 1944Ilsa sat alone at the table in the dining hall, the ignoring the dinner on her plate. She was gazing out the windows that took up one wall, but she didn't see the golden sun starting its descent toward the horizon, throwing the long shadows of autumn across the countryside. She was simply staring off into space, her head leaning against her hand, lost in thought.
A pity Erica hasn't come to dinner, Ilsa thought, sighing, But that's not a surprise, Erica hardly joins me for meals anymore, and Kroenen even less than her. I suppose they're busy, after all, October 9th is only a few days away. But I can't imagine what they're doing, they said they only had a few more finishing touches to put on the portal generator before they prepare it for transport to that island near Scotland.
Suddenly, Ilsa looked up, hearing the windows rattling in their frames. Then she felt it: a growing vibration that was beginning to shake the floor and walls. She could even hear the crystals of the chandelier overhead clinking together.
"What the—?" she began.
Then her tea cup began vibrating and clattering on its saucer, and Ilsa knew what was causing the vibrations. Erica must be down in the cellars doing something to that pipe organ, Ilsa thought, suppressing a sigh of annoyance. Ever since Kroenen had first shown Erica how he had gotten the organ to play music by itself, Erica had been fascinated by it. She was always tinkering with the organ's clockwork to get it to play different songs, or sometimes to play some of the keys while she played the others. But the organ was so large that the vibrations from the music had a tendency to destroy anything and everything fragile in the cellars, as well as simply annoy everyone else by shaking the chandeliers and making the windows rattle.
As the vibrations continued, and Ilsa's tea cup continued to clatter around on its saucer, doing something that vaguely resembled a drunken Irish jig, Ilsa grumbled and stalked off to do something about it. Besides, Ilsa thought, I may as well get Erica to come to dinner, she has to eat sometime. As soon as she opened the door to the cellars she could faintly hear the music drifting up to her. Ilsa went down the stairs and then through the maze of passages, the music getting progressively louder as she got closer to its source. When she reached the end of the passage, she flung open the tall, ebony double doors and was nearly thrown back by the force of the music flooding out. Momentarily stunned, she stood in the doorway for a moment, listening to the pounding, flowing notes. After all, Ilsa thought, it's not like she plays badly.
Ilsa looked into the hall. Directly opposite her, the entire wall, from floor to ceiling, was filled by the enormous black and silver pipe organ, and Erica was sitting on the bench in front of it, her fingers rapidly dancing across the keys as she played. Deep wailing notes poured from the organ's pipes, the music echoing within the enormous hall, reverberating off the black marble walls and columns.
But Ilsa and Erica weren't the only beings present.
Shadows, vaguely shaped like extremely slender people, were rushing around the darkest corners of the hall, flowing and contorting as they went, sliding along the polished floor and streaming gracefully down the walls. The more daring shadows were twining themselves around the chandelier, making the flames of the candles flicker, while a few of the others had draped themselves over the pipe organ. One of the shadows had wound itself around one of the legs of the bench Erica was sitting on, and was now hovering behind Erica's back, reading the sheet music over her shoulder. The scene was eerily beautiful, and slightly disturbing, as it seemed that Erica wasn't aware of the shadows flitting around her.
With a sigh, Ilsa made her way across the polished black marble floor, the dancing shadows retreating as she drew close. When Ilsa was only a few meters from the organ, she noticed that of the three rows of keys, the top row of keys was playing itself, while Erica was playing the other two. That was when Ilsa heard a slight rattling sound from overhead. Ilsa looked up, nervously eyeing the silver chandelier hanging from the center of the high, domed ceiling. The vibrations from the music were shaking the chandelier alarmingly, and it looked like it was threatening to fall. And as if that weren't enough, the shadows twined about the chandelier were leering down at her, giving her the uncomfortable feeling that they were laughing at her.
Ilsa turned back to Erica, who was still playing, totally unaware of Ilsa's presence.
"Erica," Ilsa said, but the music drowned her out, "Erica!"
Even her shouting was drowned out, so Ilsa walked over right next to Erica and yelled.
"ERICA!"
Startled, Erica jumped, with the result that her fingers hit the keys sharply, producing a jarringly discordant sound that was as unpleasant as nails being scraped down a chalkboard, though it was much, much louder. Then, the music stopped, the last of the harsh notes fading rapidly.
Erica whipped around to face Ilsa, who was standing beside her, pale hands on her hips. As Erica turned, she caught a glimpse of the shadows, now swooping away and fading, looking a little sad and slightly irritated that the music had stopped.
"Where did they come from?" Erica asked, feigning surprise as she gazed after the last shadow fading out of existence.
"I know you've seen them before," said Ilsa, "They appear every time that organ starts playing."
"I have seen them once or twice," Erica admitted, "But not every time. And I didn't know they were here this time either."
"You're just lucky that they're not dangerous, if they were you would have been dead long ago."
"No, what you mean is I would have been dead long ago if I hadn't had people like you to teach me." Erica replied, standing up from the bench.
"Yes, that too," said Ilsa with a faint smile, "By the way, if you're hungry, it's time for dinner. Are you coming?"
"Yes. After all, I haven't eaten since breakfast this morning."
XXXXX
Dinner was over quickly and Erica, having finished eating, picked up an apple from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table and then leaned back in her chair. Ilsa watched as Erica leisurely peeled the skin off the apple, being careful so that the skin came off in one long, spiral piece. Then she cut the apple into eight pieces and started eating them, staring out the window at the sunset. Ilsa smiled, remembering Kroenen doing something very similar a few years ago when Erica had joined them for breakfast. He truly was like a father to that girl, Erica spent so much time with him that she had even picked up many of his mannerisms, such as his wanton destruction of innocent vegetables and fruit that happened to be lying around.
"You know, you're very much like him." Ilsa said, breaking the silence.
"Who? Kroenen?" Erica asked, turning to face Ilsa.
"Yes."
"I am everything that you and Kroenen taught me to be," Erica said with a smile, "But as he was the one that did the majority of the teaching, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm like him."
"That's true," Ilsa admitted, "It's just that…you're different somehow."
"Of course I am. Everyone is unique."
"It's beyond that. I just can't figure out what it is. Anyway, what were you doing, playing the organ? I thought you and Kroenen were finishing the portal generator."
"We did. All we needed to do was bolt a few metal plates on, that's all. Tomorrow we're going to prepare it to be transported."
"So that means you have some free time on your hands?"
Erica narrowed her eyes, looking at Ilsa suspiciously. "Yes." Erica answered.
"Good. I have a few boxes that I want moved up to the attic. Would you mind taking them up there for me?"
Erica thought for a moment. She had never been up to the attic, and here was a perfect excuse to go and look around up there.
"Oh alright," Erica said at last, "since I have nothing better to be doing."
"Well, actually, you do. Kroenen told me to ask you if you'd like to play chess against him tonight."
"I don't know why he bothers, he knows I always lose."
Erica sat there for a moment, thinking and absentmindedly toying with her necklace. Since the day Kroenen had given it to her, she had always worn it, he had made it for her. The necklace consisted of a small, silver watch on a chain, with a crescent on the back of the case, representing her scar. Also written on the back were Kroenen's initials and the date of the day he had given the watch to her, which also happened to have been her twenty second, and most recent, birthday. She fiddled around with the clock absentmindedly, sliding it back and forth on its chain.
"I'll play chess against him," Erica said, "But only after I take your boxes up to the attic."
XXXXX
Erica cautiously walked up the creaky wooden stairs that led to the attic, carrying the two boxes Ilsa had given her. When she reached the top of the stairs she set the boxes down on the floor and walked forward slowly, looking around the shadowy, dimly lit attic. This place was completely different from anywhere else she had been in the mansion. The entire space was made up of the sloped sides of the roof, and the only light came from the single window at the opposite end of the attic. The thick layer of dust on the wide, ancient floorboards muffled the sound of her boots as she walked, leaving footprints behind her. She meandered around the randomly placed piles of furniture and boxes, heading for the window.
She reached the window. The glass was dirty and only dim yellow light came through, accompanied by the pale, pink-orange light of sunset that glowed in occasional patches against the floor or sloped ceiling. She turned her back to the window and gazed around at her surroundings. The rickety staircase that led up onto the roof was nearby, and other than that, she was surrounded by boxes, old furniture, trunks, and footlockers, all covered in dust and spider webs. Oddly enough, she found the effect was charming, and she stood there, simply existing, feeling strangely calm and secure. All the thoughts of the things she had to do were so far away it was like they had never existed in the first place. This was a place where she could finally let her guard down and just relax for a moment. It was perfectly silent in the attic, the only sound was her own breathing. The silver-white cobwebs trailing down from the ceiling and strung between furniture caught the rays of the sun, turning the webs a pale gold color. Everything about the attic gave the place a sense of timelessness.
Erica smiled, a real smile that displayed the happiness that was glowing inside her just like the bright glow of the sunset outside. It was a type of happiness that she hadn't felt in a long time. This wasn't a self-satisfied happiness or a triumphant happiness. It was more like the content happiness of a child at the end of a summer day .Of course that was probably because this attic reminded her of the attic in her grandmother's old farmhouse, which was full of interesting odds and ends. She could just picture the cracked, full-length mirror that had been in her grandmother's attic, and the hours she had spent in the attic on rainy summer days, dressing up in clothes she had found in boxes, or playing with old toys. Startled by the vivid memory, she shook her head. Where did that memory come from? she wondered. She hadn't thought of her life before coming to Germany for years.
She brushed her thoughts aside and idly walked over to the closest pile of boxes. She opened the box on top, shuffled through its contents, and finding nothing interesting, she moved on to another. She knew poking around in the attic could have its consequences if she accidentally came across something dangerously magical, but most of those things were kept somewhere safe, so there wasn't a high chance of that happening. Far more likely was the chance that she'd come across something really gross, like the last time she had wandered into Kroenen's operating room—she winced at the memory, and accidentally knocked over a box.
The box hit the floor with a dull thud, its impact instantly stirring up the dust, making her sneeze and her eyes water. In an effort to escape from the cloud of dust, she moved to another part of the attic. That was when she spotted an old trunk buried under some boxes that had been stacked on top of it. Curious, she moved the boxes sitting on the trunk, flicked open the tarnished metal latch, and opened the trunk.
Inside the trunk were some of the dresses Ilsa had tried in vain to get Erica to wear during her first year in Germany. And who could blame her? Erica had no interest in wearing anything with flowers, lace, or bows on it, especially if it was pink, as some of the dresses were. Scowling at them, Erica shifted the dresses aside— and then froze, staring at what had been revealed beneath them. There, in the bottom of the trunk, were her old clothes!
She carefully took them out and then knelt down on the floor. She unfolded one of the T-shirts, a red one, and held it at arms length. I wondered what happened to these! she thought, I suppose Ilsa put these up here after I started wearing my black uniforms instead. She put her T-shirt aside, picked up one of her pairs of jeans, and started to unfold them. As she unfolded her jeans, something fell out of the pocket and lay glittering on the floor. She leaned over and looked at it, almost not believing her eyes. It was her silver crucifix necklace!
She sat there, her gray eyes riveted on the necklace as it lay on the floor, the silver shining faintly in the dim, dusty light. The silver was slightly tarnished, and the chain was broken, but there was no mistaking that necklace, which she had worn every day until she had lost it several years ago. I wonder how it got here? she thought, I forgot that I'd lost it. Her eyes spotted the broken chain. So that must be how I lost it—the chain broke and it fell off. A dim memory surfaced, something about a voice in her head yelling at her for having lost her necklace—and something about Grigory… Yes! I remember now! I remember noticing my necklace was gone when I met Grigory. Where was I before that that I would have lost it? She thought for a moment. Then she had it. Right before she had met Grigory she had been in the hall with the pipe organ, and Kroenen had been teaching her how to dance.
So the chain must have broken when we were dancing. I wonder why I never realized any of this before? Then something occurred to her. The necklace had been in the trunk with her clothes, which meant someone had found the necklace and had known it belonged to her. But if that was true, why hadn't her necklace been returned to her?
There was only one way to find out—to try to summon a vision about her necklace's past, something she couldn't do very well.
Nevertheless, she reached out towards the necklace, her fingers nearly brushing the metal. She hesitated and then, on an impulse, snatched it up.
And then everything was plunged into chaos.
The instant her fingers touched the necklace, the attic around her shattered as if it was a mirror that had been struck. The shards spun around her, so fast they were only blurs, shredding themselves into oblivion. The sound was terrible. If pots, pans, bricks, and glass suddenly replaced the rain falling from the sky, the deafening cacophony would only be a fraction of what she heard now.
What the—? she thought, barely able to hear herself think over the terrible noise, This shouldn't be happening—Visions shouldn't appear unless I call them!
The shards finished shredding themselves and she was left alone, surrounded by darkness, and mercifully, it was silent. She could see herself, but everything else was black, and everything was so completely black that she couldn't tell where the ground was other than by the fact she seemed to be standing on something. She barely had time to wonder what was happening when a blinding flash of light, brighter even than lightning, appeared. Then it was gone.
In front of her, she saw herself and Kroenen standing in the hall with the organ. Clearly this was right after Kroenen had pulled her out of her vision, because he was holding onto her, and she was looking up at him, tears sliding down her face. Erica watched as the Erica in front of her pulled away from Kroenen—and that was when she spotted the chain of her crucifix necklace caught on a pin on Kroenen's uniform. The Erica in the vision continued to pull away, and the chain of the necklace snapped. The Erica in the vision didn't notice, and she ran from the hall, her white dress streaming after her. As soon as she was gone, Kroenen looked down to where the necklace lay on the black marble floor at his feet, and then bent down and picked it up, carefully slipping it into a pocket of his uniform—
A bright flash of light blinded her and then was gone. Erica found herself in the attic, and Ilsa was standing in front of her, hurriedly stuffing Erica's old clothes into the trunk. And just before Ilsa closed the lid of the trunk, she hid Erica's necklace in one of the pockets of a pair of jeans. Erica watched Ilsa leave, feeling anger starting to boil up inside her. They knew! They hid it from me on purpose! But why — her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the floorboards heaved upwards, knocking her off her feet. As she fell, the bright light appeared again. It vanished, and she fell against a wall and hit the floor with a cry of pain. She scrambled to her feet. She was in the entrance hall of the mansion on the stairs, and Ilsa and Kroenen were standing off to the side. In the middle of the floor she saw Grigory and herself.
"You don't frighten me! I bow to no one!" the Erica in the vision yelled.
"Well, we'll just see about that, won't we?" said Grigory, his voice deadly.
Black shadows began whirling around the defiant Erica in the middle of the floor, whose expression of defiance suddenly turned into terror. Watching from where she stood on the stairs, Erica turned her head away, unable to watch what she knew was going to happen. For some reason, a part of herself felt ashamed at watching herself, and seemed to be saying: Why did you give in so easily? Erica ignored the voice and, hearing her own voice sobbing, she looked back at the scene.
"Never…I won't…"
"SAY IT! I command you to say it, Acire! Claim me as your Master!"
"Master…" she heard the girl crouched on the floor whimper.
Erica watched, suddenly feeling obscurely sick, seeing herself kneeling in front of Grigory like a dog that had been whipped. Then a harsh voice in her head interrupted: He is your Master, and you disobeyed him! You deserved to be punished! Inside, Erica cringed. Of course, the voice was right. She had deserved to be punished, what could she have been thinking? But still, she could remember how when she had spoken those words, how the words had seemed to be dragging out her soul with them— She heard Grigory's voice again.
"Now, Acire, beg your Master for mercy." Grigory ordered.
"Mercy," the girl begged, barely able to choke out the words.
Grigory smiled smugly. Erica felt anger flare up in her. How dare another human being treat her like that! But you defied him! said that same harsh voice in her head, You were punished just as you deserved, he put you in your place!
Erica swayed a little, putting her hand to her head. She suddenly remembered feeling like this before, as if their were two different people in her body— a flash of light— she was in the black obsidian hall, with the gears turning behind their panes of glass, lit from behind by a hellish orange light. She saw herself and Grigory facing each other, and Ilsa and Kroenen standing nearby.
"You agree to help us?" Grigory asked.
"Yes." the Erica in front of him answered.
"Of your own free will?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then we shall seal our agreement."
She watched as Ilsa picked up the knife. Why did you do it? One side of her wailed, Why? Then the harsh voice interrupted. You did the right thing and you know it!
Then came a whole series of images, all of which seemed to be things she had done since she had joined the Occult, or things that she had caused or been involved in. And with each new image the two dueling voices, the two sides of her, continued to comment, growing steadily more vocal.
—She was in one of Kroenen's labs, working on the portal generator—she saw through a technician's eyes as she watched herself whip him around, snarling in anger, her eyes murderous. She felt his terror and then his pain as she ended his life with a slash of a knife—she saw through one of the assassin's eyes, looking down in horror as he plunged into the pit towards the spikes. She felt his fear, knowing he was about to die— She was Yohann Vasser, listening to her own mocking words as he died, knowing he had been caught, but also knowing that the information he had given to the Nazis' enemies would lead to the arrogant girl's downfall—she was Hayner, lying on the floor, a sword at his throat. He had sworn to Vasser that he would help defeat the Nazis, and if he was going to die, then he was going to defy that girl to the last—
She was in a room full of maps showing the positions of the Nazi and Allied troops. She saw herself standing with various Nazi military personnel, pointing out the location of Allied troops and informing the Nazis of the Allied troop's plans. She had done this many times, using her visions to gain information the Nazis would never had acquired otherwise—she was plunged into the havoc of a battle that had just started between the Nazis and some Allied soldiers that had been ambushed in the middle of the night while they were sleeping, thanks, of course, to her shared information. The night was full of screams, the deafening roar of gunfire, flashes of light and the following thunder of explosions. Flames leapt up where the grass and some of the tents had caught on fire, and there was a blinding explosion as the fire hit some containers of gasoline. The Allied soldiers milled around in confusion, having no idea who was attacking them or from where. The soldiers were easy targets for the guns of the Nazi troops surrounding the camp, and one by one each of the Allied soldiers were shot down.
"No!" she half yelled, half sobbed, wishing she could stop it, "No, no, no!"
But it was too late, she already knew the outcome of this battle, it had happened a few weeks ago. She knew that every single one of the Allied soldiers had been killed, not a single one had escaped or been captured. Looking around at the carnage of the battle Erica felt sick, horror struck that her actions had caused something like this. Well, at least part of her felt sickened, the other half was—was laughing! This made the other part of her feel even more appalled. It truly was a bizarre feeling, to feel like there were two vastly different people in her body.
The battlefield disappeared, and she saw Schenck, the man that ran the prison she had been taken to all those years ago, working in his office. A shadow fell over him and he looked up, and then his face contorted in terror. Then there was a flash of a pair of baton swords and the dull gleam of light on a familiar metal mask, and Schenck lay dead—she was in the middle of the masquerade ball, watching from behind Leonard's eyes as he died, having no idea why—a brief and gruesome flash of Leonard's parents, tortured to death by Kroenen for trying to kill her—
See what you've caused? the one voice said. They were your enemies. They got what they deserved! insisted the harsh voice, and Erica felt a surge of confidence in herself. Why, there was nothing wrong in what she had done, how could she ever have thought that? But just as suddenly, her confidence was gone, and she was back to staring at the carnage she had caused with a growing horror.
"What have I done?" she whispered in disbelief.
You know what you've done, accused a stern voice from somewhere behind her, different then the other two. But do you have any idea of what your actions are about to cause?
She turned around to see who was speaking, and instead of seeing a person, she found herself suddenly surrounded by a city engulfed in flames. Rubble lay in enormous piles all around her: huge chunks of concrete, twisted steel beams, shattered glass, and downed power lines covered the ground, which was nothing but hard dirt scarred by fire where the grass had been burned away. The ruins of buildings were the only things still standing, their ghostly forms silhouetted against the sky. The sky itself looked like it was burning, it was covered in blood red clouds and the thick, black columns of smoke rising up from the fires. And protruding through the clouds were long, copper colored tentacles that were slowly waving and moving over the hellish scene.
You recognize this, I know, said the stern voice, It's a vision you've had many times before, and have never realized what it truly was. And this vision of yours will come true unless you do something to stop it, instead of helping it as you have been.
"What do you mean, helping it?" she asked, looking around at the piles of rubble, searching for the source of the voice.
You wretched creature, you've done nothing but work towards this version of the future! Don't you recognize it?
"No," Erica said flatly.
Really? I'm surprised. After all, this is Rasputin's design for the future.
Erica's mouth dropped open in shock. "What? That can't be right! This is—this is Hell on Earth! It's nothing like the Eden he talked about!"
But he did say the world would be destroyed and then reborn from the ashes. One must wonder, if everything is destroyed, how anything can then rise from the ashes. And you have been helping Rasputin reach his goal. If you haven't realized it by now, he's been using you.
Erica didn't say anything in reply. She was horror-struck. How could I help him do this? I don't want the world to be destroyed! she thought, staring in horror at the destroyed city around her.
If you want to, you can prevent this. You can stop Rasputin.
"What?" Erica asked, hardly believing what she was hearing. One part of her wanted to do something, but how would she have any chance against him?
Actually, I should say: only you can stop Rasputin. You have all the knowledge and skills you need, and if you're careful, you're not likely to be caught.
"But—But I can't betray the Thule Occult Society!" Erica said, realizing what the voice was talking about.
Yes, you can. And you will, if you want to save your soul. Either way, you must choose to either fight with or against the Occult. Even deciding not to fight with or against them will let them win, because only you can lead to the Occult's defeat, just as you are the only one that can save yourself. Ultimately, the choice lies with you, but just remember that if you fail to act all will be lost.
The burning city blinked out of existence, and Erica suddenly found herself kneeling on the ground, surrounded by a familiar smell of dust. She looked up.
She was in the attic.
Erica knelt on the floorboards, trembling and breathing hard, her clothes and hair covered in dust. Her right hand was clutched in a fist around her silver necklace so hard that she could feel the cool metal biting into her palm. She felt something wet running down her face and realized that she was crying.
"What have I done?" she whispered aloud. "And what have I allowed to happen to myself?"
She suddenly realized that it was dark in the attic, and she looked towards the window. Outside it was night and gray wispy clouds were racing across the sky. Silver stars were sparkling in the black sky beside a glowing white crescent moon. Seeing the moon, she looked at the crescent shaped scar on her arm, tracing a finger over its curved shape as tears continued to run down her face. This is what started it, she thought, this is what started it all.
She sniffled and wiped a hand across her face, leaving dusty streaks behind as she tried to wipe away her tears. Then, almost absentmindedly, she toyed with the chain of her cross necklace, getting the broken links to close again so that the necklace chain was whole. Then she reached up and put her cross necklace on, tucking it under her shirt so it wouldn't be seen.
As her hands dropped away from her neck, they hit the silver watch hanging around her neck. Her fingers wrapped around it and she looked down, staring at the initials on the back of the case. K.R.K., she thought, for Karl Ruprect Kroenen…Why did you hide my necklace from me? Why?
Suddenly, a wave of anger hit her, boiling up from deep inside her. How could they have done this to me? How could they have lied and tricked me? she thought, How could they use me to reach their goals? How could they?
Before she knew what she was doing she was rushing out of the attic and down the stairs, racing through the deserted corridors of the mansion, running as fast as she could towards her study. She had never felt so angry before. Her friends—her only friends—had done this to her. Yes, she had ended up going along with them in the end, but they had been the ones to take her necklace, to convince her that theirs was the only way, to—How could they? she thought, hot, angry tears running unchecked down her face.
She reached her study and yanked open the door, running inside before slamming the door shut as hard as she possibly could. She strode towards the lit fireplace, violently shoving a chair out of her way so that it toppled and fell to the floor. When she reached the fireplace she stood there for a moment, gazing at the fire, which was burning as hot as the white hot anger welling up inside her. My friends, she thought, They turned me into a cold blooded murderer! My friends!
Without thinking, she picked up a round, heavy glass ball from the mantle and hurled it into the fireplace as hard as she could. The glass ball shattered on impact with the stone hearth, the hundreds of shards shining brightly as they reflected the flickering flames. How could they do this to me! she thought, throwing out her arm and clearing the top of her desk in one sweep. The crystals, clocks, and two daggers fell onto the floor, but some of the books and papers landed in the fireplace, where they instantly caught on fire. I trusted them! she howled silently, I trusted them and they betrayed me! They betrayed me!
She kicked another chair, which fell backwards into one of the bookshelves, making several books fall to the floor, accompanied by various scrolls, clocks, and hourglasses. The clocks and hourglasses shattered when they hit the floor, the broken glass, sand, and gears spilling across the wood floor. Ignoring them, and feeling completely exhausted, Erica collapsed to her knees in front of the fireplace, sobbing.
Author Notes: So, how about that plot twist? What do you think she's going to choose to do? Make me extremely happy and review please!