After a moment of sitting at the dining table alone, Jiahao finally came to her senses and began running in the direction where she initially came in from.
Despite her best efforts, she couldn't actually find her original entry point. Either she became lost, or the window simply no longer existed. Not sure what else to do Jiahao began to wander aimlessly.
Eventually she found something reminiscent of a kitchen, there were pots, pans, and any kitchen utensil you could imagine but no food. "What does Arden even eat?" Jiahao mumbled, before remembering that Alice mentioned how Arden isn't exactly human.
Alice just makes Jiahao ask more questions than she can answer.
Jiahao began to make her way to Alice's room, she has questions, and Alice has answers, probably.
She stormed through the manor, until she found herself at the door that started this whole charade. Yet can't bring herself to actually open it.
'What if Alice has another outburst?'Jiahao thought to herself before turning away from the door.
Without any other options left, Jiahao sighed and returned to the dungeon.
What was once a cell has seemed to turn itself into a pretty homely bedroom, but the imposing iron cell bars reminded her that ultimately it was a prison cell. This modified bedroom consisted of a proper bed, a bedside table with an oil lamp, and a seemingly comfortable armchair. Jiahao couldn't think of a single time in her life where she had a room like this all to herself. Arden even put some paintings on the walls.
Jiahao almost felt bad about getting into this freshly made bed. The linens look freshly washed and dried, plus there's at least three pillows on the bed.
And for a small moment she accepted that if she was stuck here until the end of her days, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
But standing all alone in a room that was made just for her felt wrong. In the orphanage she shared one room with nine other girls, in the flat they only have one room, where they eat, sleep and everything else.
Not sure what else to do, Jiahao ignored the nicely placed armchair in the far corner of the cell, and instead slumped down by the bars. The cold iron bringing her back to reality.
She's stuck here. Alone. Not knowing how to leave, not knowing if her siblings are safe. Nothing. She knows nothing. She closed her eyes, hoping that she'll wake up, that this is all a bad dream.
On the other side of the manor walls though, Damien, May and Max are well aware that this isn't a bad dream. It's probably about seven in the morning, the sun is rising, and they're left in awe. They can't go back, they'll probably die, but just going home feels wrong. They've been sitting in a small alleyway for at least three hours now, in mostly silence, occasionally interrupted by Max sobbing.
"Guys, let's just go home." Damien spoke as he began to stand up, and brush the dirt off his already destroyed pants. He isn't outwardly saying it, but he clearly feels guilty. If Jiahao's dead, it's his fault. He could've killed part of the very small family he has.
Sure, the twins are still here, but they'll always be closer with each other than with him. Him and Jiahao have been inseparable since they were kids. Through all the bickering, the fighting, everything, they've been there for each other.
But now, she's gone.
"But… Jia…" Max choked out between sobs.
Damien clenched his fist. "I know, but sitting here crying isn't going to fix it. Let's go home, and get some sleep, and try to make sense of this in the morning."
May nodded in agreement, often when Max is upset she leaves him to his own devices until he calms down, but sometimes she needs to intervene. She patted him on the back and began to talk in a calm, soft voice, different from her usual matter-of-fact way of talking.
"Max, Damien is right, sitting here crying won't fix it. Everything that happened there was weird, and I can't even make sense of it now. We need sleep, I'll even read a book to you until you fall asleep. Like I used to do when we were kids." She smiles slightly, and Max nods.
"You don't need to read to me, I'm not a baby anymore." He sniffled and used his sleeve to wipe away what's left of his tears. With this they set off home, confused and scared.
Damien began following the same route they took to get to the manor home until May stops him. They're at a familiar alleyway, the one the old drunkard had been sleeping in.
"Damien, we can't go that way." May said sternly.
"May, it's fine, we just need to get home." He retorted with a sigh, he's tired and there's an emotional whirlwind in his brain, he doesn't have time for May's games right now.
Ignoring her he began to head down the alleyway until he heard a crazed scream, "Help! Help! They're going to kill meeeeeee!" He recognises the voice, it's the drunkard from earlier. Without thinking he goes towards the sound, he's pissed, and beating someone up seems like a great outlet.
There's four men hovering over the drunkard, and all four of them are clearly annoyed with this man. Before Damien can really do anything, May grabbed the back of his tattered shirt and dragged him away. He doesn't fight back, too tired, both physically, and mentally to fight with May right now.
A few minutes later another, much louder, blood curdling scream erupts from the alleyway. "Damien, please just trust me when I say these things. We already lost Jia tonight, we're not losing you too."
He didn't bother responding, he just fixed his shirt up, and continued walking behind the twins.
It felt like an eternity of silence before they made it back to the flat.
May opened the door and basically collapsed onto her mattress, she was done for the night.
But Damien and Max weren't. Max sat up by the front window, he was probably going to stay awake until the sun had fully risen, but Damien, he just couldn't sleep.
Max pulled one of the stolen clocks out of his rucksack, and a few small tools he kept in a metal tin on the windowsill. He began tinkering away at the mahogany clock, and every few minutes a soft tick would ring throughout the tiny flat.
Each tiny tick felt like a gut wrenching reminder to Damien that all of this was his idea, it was his fault. This guilt was eating him alive, not to mention the deafening silence in between the clocks ticking.
Feeling like he had no options left, Damien slumped down in the far corner of the room and closed his eyes. Hoping that he'd wake up soon, and this would all be a bad dream.
It's just a bad dream.
×Chapter 2 End×