Disclaimer: I don't own Haunting Ground. All characters and situations are accredited to Capcom, whom I am in no way affiliated with.
Warning: This story is rated for scenes of violence, course language and adult themes.
Summary: The sole survivor of a tragic car crash, eighteen year old Fiona Belli has awoken a prisoner in a castle kept by the sinister Riccardo and chased into exhaustion by the gardener, Debilitas. Her only chance of survival has arrived in the form of a white German Shepard, Hewie.
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Fiona blinked. Her eyes had been unprepared for the light outside, leaving her squinting around at the garden before her. She had climbed the stairs, peering ahead as best she could, tying the sheet tightly around herself to keep it from slipping, only to emerge unexpectedly underneath the cloud swept afternoon sky. Currently she stood a little distance from the stairs, only sure that she didn't want to return to the nightmare she had woken into.
The garden was completely walled in. Tall trees reached across the sky, their bare branches entwining in mock gestures of greeting. Her feet crunched over dirt and grass browned almost to the point of death. A lone black crow took flight, circling up into the sky, its high, shrieking call trailing after it.
The air was odd; cold, mixed with the sharp undertone of dread. It rang in her mouth, bitter and metallic, as she breathed it in.
Fiona shivered.
Up ahead a tree stood at the top of a short, wide set of steps. It towered easily over the high walls and Fiona spent a moment wondering if she could climb it. The branches would certainly be strong enough to bear her weight. Then again, she had never been much of a climber. It was more likely she'd slip and break her body on the steps then be able to scale her way to freedom. She'd have to find the gate.
Turning her head she spied an enormous fountain. A crumbling stone cherub stood proudly over the pool of spoiled water, as thick as congealed blood, a thin layer of bubbles covering the surface, lazily bursting one by one. Fiona started towards it, turning what she thought was a corner in the garden wall.
A staircase, lined with tiny potted plants, had been built into the wall, rising up to what Fiona could only describe as a castle.
She glanced around the garden. Trees, grass, fountain and smooth stone walls. Wherever the way out was, she decided, it mustn't be here. Resolving her self to discovering the inhabitants of this place and, from there, her way home, Fiona began her ascent.
Around the halfway point the wall on her left dropped, providing her with a view of the rest of the garden. Beyond the fountain were a series of rusted, barred cells. She was slightly glad to see that they were filled with nothing but clumsily stowed junk, she didn't want to know what sort of animals had been kept there.
At the first landing, windows had been arranged to face out upon the garden. Fiona rubbed at the glass with a corner of her sheet, squinting through the layers of dust at the room beyond. Candles flickered, tiny pinpricks of light against the otherwise indistinguishable shadows. She moved on.
The staircase finished with the second landing. More windows, but this time with the addition of a door, met her eyes. She paused, glancing up at the decorative tree adorning the door. She had no idea how she had ended up here, trapped in a cage in what could only have been a dungeon. Fiona was a smart girl, she knew there was the distinct possibility that she was walking straight into the danger that she should be running from. But, she reasoned, there is still the chance that someone will gladly take me home.
With this she grabbed the handle and gave it a sharp twist. She half expected it to be locked but it swung forward easily, leaving her to grit her teeth and step inside.
A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead. The ticking of a grandfather clock echoed loudly in her ears, magnified in the silence. There was no one in the room. High-backed chairs had been set around a low table, shelves spilling with books and trinkets lined the walls. Up three steps was the clock and – Fiona craned her neck to see – a large, four poster bed.
A portable television sat on a shelf by the door. Crossing her fingers that it would work she turned the big, plastic dial to 'on'. White noise filled the bedroom, churning on the sounds of the grandfather clock and spitting it back at her through a mess of squiggly, half-formed lines. Static. Fiona's heart skipped a beat. What did it mean if the television wasn't working? She had the sudden, terrible notion of monsters lurking around the corners, hiding under the bed, behind the chairs. She pushed it away firmly as she switched off the set.
Her bare feet padded softly across the cold, stone floor. An empty bird cage hung from a hook, offering her its silent, solemn warning. There was a doll on one of the shelves; a bisque doll. Fiona examined it, blinking into its painted blue eyes, not daring to touch it. She wondered briefly who the doll had been made to resemble before turning away.
The sheet spun out at her movement, batting gently against her knees. Fiona frowned slightly, she needed clothes.
Heading up the steps and past the clock, she glanced momentarily at a painting of an old, stern faced man. It was almost directly opposite the end of the bed, nestled to the right of a fireplace. Here there was another door and Fiona reached for the handle. Again the necessity of finding clothes crept across her mind and she hesitated.
It was then that she realised she was being watched.
The woman was very tall and thin. A stiff collar reached right up to her chin, covered with an inky blue jacket embroided in gold. A skirt of the same colour brushed almost to her ankles and a rigid white apron trimmed with lace sat over that. The entire effect, from collar to flat-heeled shoes, was one of a polished marble statue dressed in maid's finery.
Fiona had no idea how she must look to this straight-backed woman; naked except for the sheet, pale and wide eyed with fright, blonde hair falling loose from its ponytail. Not to mention that she was surely not supposed to be here.
If the woman found the sight of Fiona strange she certainly didn't show it, she didn't even bat an eyelash.
"I've gathered some clothes for you," she told Fiona who involuntarily found herself cringing away from the woman's voice. It was drawling, flat, lifeless. The woman didn't take her eyes off Fiona as she stepped slowly towards the door, her movements a direct echo of her voice.
Fiona couldn't help thinking of how perfectly the woman's face matched her demeanour. She was beautiful, almost too beautiful, like a doll that has been fashioned to depict human beauty but far surpasses it. Long lashes rested on high cheekbones, the line of her jaw smooth and clean, her lips curved so perfectly. Surely skin wasn't supposed to be as completely unmarred as hers, just as hair shouldn't fall so gracefully. Even the woman's eyes, pale and brilliant, seemed artificially too lovely.
"Wait!" Fiona cried suddenly as she saw that the woman meant to leave, "Don't go!"
The woman turned, her movements laboured almost to the point of being robotic. She faced Fiona, her back now to the door. There was nothing but the ticking of the clock.
"Um," Fiona found herself faltering under that unblinking stare, even to her own ears her voice sounded wispy and out of breath, "ex-excuse me, but where are we? And how did I get here?"
The woman didn't answer. Instead she redirected her gaze to a point over Fiona's shoulder.
"Yes, master," the maid said in that same lifeless tone, "we will keep her here for a while. I will make sure she stays… comfortable."
Fiona couldn't help but notice the slight pause before the word 'comfortable'. She looked over her shoulder to see who the woman was speaking to. Her eyes slid over the painting of the old man. His eyes, dark and narrowed, bore back at her and suddenly she was overcome by a wave of
(the screams)
dizziness. She sank to her knees. Again the image of the man in the hat looking through the broken car window at her flashed before her eyes. Her mind backtracked. She hadn't been alone in the car.
(mum)
There had been
(dad)
others. But what had happened to them? The effort of remembering brought blackness crashing over her like a wave. Fiona fainted.
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A/N: Yeah, it took me long enough to update! I kinda thought this story was going to be dead for a while, but I guess not.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed: HazardousRaptor, Salem Saori and Aeris
Hopefully I'll get the next part up and running quicker this time!