The sparkling light still illuminated the inside. I rushed to it and wrenched the door open, feeling safe for a moment. I didn’t let myself catch my breath; I had to move forward if I wanted to get out of here. I grabbed my soiled mask on the floor, and suddenly, the lights switched off.
I was stuck in the middle of the darkness. Oblivion. The nothing.
I panicked, my biggest fear coming to life. I turned around abruptly, hearing a knocking sound. Someone had locked me up inside.No.I stormed at the door, seeing only a silhouette leaving in the distance.
“Help!” I shrieked. “Please, help!”
I screamed, but no one heard my distress. I was trapped. I slammed the windows with my fists, imploring, “Please, I need help. Can someone hear me?”
The music was too loud, leaping above my voice. I hit the door until my fists bled, controlled by the primal instinct of fear to escape. I could smell the metallic tang of my blood, leaving a bitter taste in my throat. I fidgeted around every corner of the greenhouse, trying to break the windows. Objects smashed on the ground, and I trampled everything in my path.
I cried, yelled, begged, my invisible demons reaching out to me.
I was seeing them.
The sisters.
The Institute for Young Ladies.
The place where I grew up that haunted my nightmares.
But this time… no one was here.
14 years ago
Curled up on myself on the grass, I prayed for the lullaby to stop. I covered my ears with my palms, my mouth tasting earthy.
“Wet grass. Rain. Disgusting mint,” I listed the smells around me in a whisper.Again.“Wet grass. Rain. Dis—”
Their voices were too loud. I couldn’t focus nor escape the mean girls from the orphanage. They held each other’s hands, spinning in a circle around me like she-demons encircling me like a prison of torment.
Beware of the Witch.
Removing petals of flowers at early bloom,
She’s gifted with a curse.
Floral, oriental, woody, fresh, scents have no secrets for her.
Beware of the Witch.
She’ll put a spell on you.
Sweet and innocent, but yet poisonous.
A dark secret she’s hiding.
Beware of the Witch.
Because to every Witch, there is a Devil.
They repeated it in a symphony, and no one cared that they were blaspheming the Institute of Young Ladies.
“It’s not true,” I sobbed, and tightened my fists before sinking them in the dirt.
Tears stung my eyes. I smashed the flowers, making them bleed and hurting my heart at the same time.Stop crying, Lily.I wouldn’t be reduced to a creature.
I was stronger than that.
