Six

Soon you’ll realize that happenstance is a greater part of destiny.

"Wear your mask." Yulian smiled wryly. I bent my head to the side; bewildered by his request. I had no idea what he was talking about. "There," he said pointing to my hand.

I opened the clutch bag Venecia had given me before we left Crestwood Manor. Inside was indeed a mask, a beautiful Colombina with black crested jewels matching the color of my dress. "It's stunning," I beamed admiring the piece of ornament that glinted over the moon creating Kaleido shapes.

"Let me help you," offered Yulian taking the mask from my hand. He went to my back and clasped each elastic cuff between my ears. "Mi Eliza, just stay within my reach."

I turned my back facing two stormy eyes, "I will."

He nodded, "Good." There were hesitations in his voice, suggesting he didn't want me to be there. That he was forced to do it. "My family is very eccentric; just don't be afraid of them. I will stay with you the whole time. Trust me, it’ll be over soon before you know it."

His words sent chills to my body, telling me not to be afraid just made it worse for my galloping heart. My feet sought to run away only to be cemented firmly on the ground. I was unable to will my limbs to move; dread enveloped me. But there was no use succumbing to fear, after all, I wasn't raised to be a coward. I had my fair share of eccentricities through my family though I had nothing to compare them; growing up I was left to wonder if all families are like mine. Instead of wallowing furthermore, I sighed. "I won't."

"Hold me." Yulian reached for my right hand to his right while his left encircled my waist. "I'm here Mi Eliza," he whispered in my ear. His warmth steadied my heart and I again breathed normally. He washed away the tremors building in my stomach.

Stay with me, I whispered in my head. Just stay with me and I would be alright.

......

"Welcome back Master Yulian! And to your lovely guest!" welcomed the attendant on the big oak door. I couldn't make out the guy's features; his face was covered with a rather colorful Arlechinno—depicting a very happy clown. It matches his buoyant personality; he was almost bouncing on his feet at our sight. "Here is your mask, as you requested." He handed Yulian a black Pantalone. "I made it myself!" he exclaimed clapping both hands together.

Yulian reached for the birdlike mask, "Thank you, Marcel, are they all here?" he asked wearing the ornament over his head.

"Your family is already situated in the Podium young master."

"I see and the play?" Yulian squeezed my hand with reassurance.

"I believe it's on its second act right now," answered the attendant Marcel peering through his watch. "You should not miss the third act. Go on now..." He opened the door and led us inside.

Crestwood was just a fraction compared to the majesty of Sunny Hill. Though they both made me travel through time and space, Sunny Hill was on a different level. Magical would best describe the place; a life-sized statue of Greek gods and goddesses adorned every corner and renowned paintings were spewed on the walls—paintings that were thought to be missing! And the crystal chandeliers were all massive spreading soft yellow lights everywhere. Then, I gasped meeting the masterpiece on the ceiling, "It's... beautiful."

"My mom painted them as a gift."

I veered at Yulian and he was looking intently to the ceiling, "a gift, to whom?" I asked trying to divulge the quietness that suddenly surrounded us.

"To me, we often visited Rome when I was a kid and I would always drag my mom to the Sistine Chapel just to look at its ceiling..." he paused, there was an impede in his words before he cleared his throat and continued, "She said it would be a nice gift for me so we wouldn't have to travel far..."

"She must be nice..."

"She was an angel."

"Young Master!" Yulian and I moved in sync with the caller's voice. "They are all waiting for you! The second act would end in fifteen!" The guy wore the same mask as Marcel though they have different demeanor. This guy was the 'yin' version of Marcel, he was serious and calm.

"We're on our way, thank you, Igor," Yulian replied and proceeded our descent inside the house.

I tagged on his hand, "They look all the same, what tell?" I broke another still moment between us.

"Their family had been working with us for decades, we basically grew up together; Marcel, Igor, Nikolai, Anton, Julio...they inherited the jobs of their fathers. And they are considered as my brothers..."

I didn't ask another question; we walk in total silence after that. It felt like I was invading him too much. I was crossing a road that I probably should not. I could not offer him the solace of affection and somehow, I was hurting him unintentionally.

I abstracted my focus to the house; it seemed we were going down instead of up. The damp overgrown smell in the air suggested it, though we haven't rummage into a stair. There were series of doors in the hallway that will lead to somewhere but we didn't stop at any of those. We walked farther until the hallway turned into a maze; the doors were so much alike that every curve we took seemed to take us back from where we started. After a while, I just didn't bother thinking about when we will reach our destination.

"What play are we going to watch?" I gave up, "Where is everyone, the entire guests?" I continued to ask.

"You will see, we are here," Yulian finally stopped at one of the doors. "They are all in the podium, we came in different ways so it's unlikely to bump in any of them," he turned the knob. To my surprise, the door didn't lead to a room but a small lift. Yulian reached for the keypad and keyed in a code; the lift rattled and we descended further down.

It was a short ten seconds ride that directed us to an entryway with heavy velvet draperies; gasping noises immediately hailed us in. I hated the anticipation; the longer I waited the more I get intrigued. But as soon as my foot stepped on the podium, I halted. My eyes fixed on the stage and their so-called 'play' that it blocked everything and everyone else.

No! No! No! I don't want to be here! Let me go!

I snatched away my hand from Yulian but he held it firmly, "Mi Eliza don't."

"Get me out of—"I couldn't finish my sentence. I closed my eyes but the nightmares were already etched behind my lids. Iron filled my nostrils and I wanted to puke right there and then. I clenched my stomach for the incoming turmoil.

A hand massaged my back, "Don't look at it look at me instead." He grabbed my chin and forced me to his eyes. I was scared. "I'm sorry Mi Eliza but you have to wipe those tears away."

I did as he told me. We walked down the balcony and sat beside a man wearing a Zanni mask, "So you have finally arrived, huh?" the man said with a stern voice.

"Good day to you too, father," Yulian greeted the man; his hands straightened the invisible creases of his black coat. It was the first time I have seen him nervous.

The man chuckled, "Ever the blunt one my son? And who's this beauty with you?" His eyes gazed upon me and I couldn't help but cringe. Not because he reeked of bourbon but because he exuded the same aura as my grandfather: manipulative and controlling. He was the type of man that I don't want to be associated with, he would do nothing but crumple you to pieces.

"Ona zhena, kotoroy on khvastalsya," butted the lady beside him. Her face was covered but her dress gave it away, it was Yulian's stepmother. She looked me down from head to foot with malice in her eyes. I took the hint that she despised me the moment she saw me in the garden.

"Wife eh? Isn't she too young?" Yulian's father addressed him. "You are fond of young girls now, after that whore?"

I clenched my fist restraining myself. Yulian must have noticed and he reached for my hand, "My preferences in a woman are nothing for you to worry about father besides you are not a good role model yourself." He turned his head to his stepmother, "Hello again Sacha."

Her stepmother, Sacha didn't acknowledge the greeting. She was too proud of herself.

The old man laughed even harder; his wrinkled hand slapped the armrest of his chair. "I see... won't you at least introduce me? Give your dad some credit."

There was a pause followed by a deep sigh before Yulian looked at me for permission, "Father this Eliza, my soon to be wife. Eliza this is my father, Nikolai Zorya."

Nikolai leaned towards me; with a toothed grin, he shook my hand and kissed both my cheeks. "Let's enjoy good old macabre! Shall we, my dear?"

"Kak ona mozhet naslazhdat'sya? Yeye koleni drozhat ot strakha." It was unnerving, speaking in a foreign tongue just so I couldn't understand her.

"Why fear something extraordinary?" Nikolai said peering at me with bewilderment, his eyes were questioning. But who would pleasure in such morbid things? Only a monster like him could enjoy the play upfront. There was nothing pleasurable in seeing someone get hurt.

I shook my head and diverted them to the stage; it was the perfect time to see a girl gutted by a razor. Her rose-colored blood painted the flooring in a swirl. Everyone around me except Yulian applauded in delight. Some even hooted and whistled with amazement. It was a horrific sight, seeing someone get killed in front of you. I wanted to get away from there but Yulian's hold made sure that I stay rooted in my seat; his nails were almost digging to my skin.

The girl was on the center of the stage, seated in a chair wearing nothing, hands and feet were bound on her back and her mouth was stuffed with cloth. A spotlight highlighted the 'razor man' wearing a wicked smile on her back. His right hand fisted the girl's red curly hair and his left hand rose in the air and a sweep, he cut through the girl's neck. Her look turned blank from withdrawn, she knew what was coming; she has nowhere to go. Death was inevitable and she knew it could come for her.

The light on the stage died along with the nameless girl.

I cried. I cried for her pain. My tears were on a downpour, they wouldn't stop rolling down my face. It was too much to see, too much to bear. Why would they do something so cruel?

"Mi Eliza..." Yulian's face was distraught, "I'm sorry—"

A hand slapped me on the face, my ears were left ringing. "Slabyy! V moyey sem'ye net mesta dlya slabakov!"

The velvet curtain started to close and the people around were leaving with smiles on their faces. My stomach churned in revolt; I couldn't contain my anger. "Weak. Who is weak? You or me? Me who empathizes with a girl who got killed without a single fight or you who devised her killing? Who is weak, please tell me?” The anger in my voice was evident as it showed in my shaking body.

"Who are you to educate me?" He raised his hand but I caught his wrist before the hit landed.

"Hit me. Yes, hit me again and show me how weak you are! That's what you're only good at, hurting people like we're some piece of toy to amuse you. You are a monster! Ty monstr! Vy ne zasluzhivayete svoyey zhizni!" I was spurting words after words that without knowing I was speaking the same thick Russian accent as them.

"You're calling me a monster? Do you know who that girl is? She sells her filthy body on the street!" He exclaimed trading his foot on the carpeted floor.

"No. I don't know her and I don't know you too. But I have enough to tell that you're going to hell."

The old man snatched away his hand. In a flick, Yulian pulled me to his back covering my view of his father. "Hit Eliza once more and I swear I would cut your hand!"

Yulian's father laughed, "Don't be the puerile son I suddenly had an inkling of liking your little wife." He pulled Yulian's stepmother with him. "Enjoy the party I won't be on your away anymore. Bring her on the 'unbecoming' would you please?" He laughed again trailing his path with guttural sounds.

My body didn't stop shaking even without the unnerving presence. I was scared the whole time. "I'm sorry," I mumbled behind Yulian's back. My hands crumpled his well-ironed coat. "I'm sorry," I repeated, my knees turned wobbly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." I repeated, over and over.

"What are you sorry for, Mi Eliza?" He pulled my chin up. "You're the bravest." He wiped off my tears and kissed my forehead.

"Your father—"I started.

He inclined his head on the right, "You are worried that you disappointed me?" I nodded my yes. "You should be mad at me Mi Eliza. Do you know that?"

"I know. But it's your right to hide things. I am in no position to question you. It was in our agreement."

"I see." He led me to sit, "My family is not on the ordinary scale Mi Eliza, my father's side of the family owns a unique business of catering to people's wildest fantasy."

"What do you mean?"

"Killing. Sex. Or both. There are a lot of rich people who fervor seeing someone get killed." He looked me in the eyes, "are you afraid of me now?'

"No." I wanted to add that there's nothing to hate about him that we are just the same, but I couldn't. It was supposed to be a façade. "What's The Unbecoming?" Instead, I chose the easy way out. I diverted the topic.

"After the play, I think it is better that you don't know what is The Unbecoming

"Why?" I asked him out of puzzlement. But do I really want to press him after what I saw in the play? No. I don't actually want to. There was just this fraction of persuading thought in my head that made me want to know. "Would it be worse than the play?"

Yulian stood up. He reached for the bridge of his nose massaging the small bone on the center between his eyes. He clenched his teeth and run both hands through his hair. "They are far, far worse than you could imagine my dear."

"Young Master, your father and grandfather are waiting for you!" Out of nowhere Marcel arrived interrupting our talk.

"My grandfather is here? He said he won't be coming!" Yulian paced three steps back and forth.

Marcel nodded, "Yes, he wants you and your lady guest to participate in the unbecoming."

"What?" Yulian punched the back of the seat in his vanguard. "He said he won't be here!" He was now holding the seat, the crow's feet in his eyes suggested extreme emotions that I haven't seen before in my short stay with him.

There was a long stretch of silence. Marcel was getting impatient, he began tapping his watch. Awkwardness then enveloped the two of us.

"Yulian?" I murmured cupping his hand. "What's wrong?" I tried my best not to show fear though my voice was cracking.

There was a glint of struggle in the grays of his eyes, "I guess, it was a mistake coming here. I am sorry Eliza but we need to participate in it..."

My heart leaped out of my chest. The terror clawed its way to my heart. I could tell that it wasn’t going to be good.