Chapter VI

She tried to wrench herself free, but his grip was too tight, perhaps unnaturally so, as he dragged her in the middle of the bloody ballroom. She didn't dare look down, as the number of dead bodies scattered all over greatly sickened her. The sound of squelching made her feel so dizzy and she nearly passed out, were it not for Michael talking to her and keeping her from falling.

"They're nothing but a bunch of liars, hypocrites... parasites, even." he said, his voice dripping with hatred. "But they're gone now... look..." The sea of dead covering the floor was a sickening, horrifying sight. How did Michael even do it? 

"Let me go, please..." she muttered. "Please... I don't want to be here anymore..." Michael studied her face for a while before grabbing her chin tightly, forcing her to look at all the dead bodies. The smell of blood was already making her nauseous. 

"Look around you." he said. "Look... look! All this! I did all this for you! Don't you understand? I got rid of them for you! You said you were hurt by the things they said! You said you didn't like them around, right? So I got rid of all them!"

"I-I... never said..." 

As she tried to pull away once again, Michael's face contorted in fury, and it was made even more horrifying with the crimson streaks of blood, which stood out against his pale complexion. "Stop lying to me already!" he roared, slapping her across the face so hard she fell down among the corpses. The blood splashed across her and her clothes, making her gag and vomit. Michael pulled her up by her hair and looked her straight in the eye.

"You are not going anywhere." he said. "You will stay with me, and we will finish what we started!" 

She fought against the grip as the pain was burning into her skin, then her hand fell towards the hilt of the dagger she took. Idiot, how could I even forget about this, she thought as she quickly pulled it out. 

"I'm getting the hell out of here!" she screamed as she thrust the dagger deep into Michael's chest. His grip loosened as he staggered back, his eyes widening in shock and anger as he stared down at the dagger jutting out of his chest. In rage, he ripped it out of his chest and threw it to the side, the weapon disappearing among the dead. 

"You bitch!" he roared. The gaping wound should've killed him but right in front of her, it closed.  She ran across the ballroom with Michael hot on her heels no longer caring about the dead bodies littering the floor. She nearly slipped because of the blood but was at least able to make it to the end. The door was heavy, and Michael was within inches of reaching her, but she was able to push it open at last. 

The hallway provided very little she could use to hinder Michael's progress, and so she had no choice but to run. 

"I'll have you!" he said. "You can keep running, darling! Make it fun for me!" 

He somehow sounded... far, but she could clearly remember him being a few feet away, yet it didn't matter as her heart pounded a hundred times a minute, her feet nearly off the carpeted floor as she ran and made a sharp right turn into another room. 

Once again, she found herself in Dorothy's hidden study, but it was old and ruined. It was utterly confusing to her how the house's condition, and even the layout, could change. 

Unless...

No, that can't be real, she thought. That does not exist at all! It couldn't be magic, or some dark force, but her mind went back to the image of the devil's bargain on the tapestry. It could just be some twisted taste in art, but she didn't have time to think as she began to rummage around the dusty, ruined bookshelf for any clue or weapon that could get her out of the mess she was in. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could find, save for another letter, presumably from a servant, which said:

He wants us to hide the truth. It was... horrible. Have to leave, but I can't. He already ---- one of the servants, Griselda... Oh no... Now he ---- it's crazy! God help us

She couldn't comprehend the letter as she already heard footsteps coming from the outside, along with that telltale sinister voice. 

"Hide and seek is always fun... but how long can you get away from me?" 

She began to look for another passage since the door she saw from way back wasn't there anymore. Under the bed, under the dusty carpet, there was nothing. She tried opening the windows but they were jammed shut. What's worse was that the fog made it difficult for her to see outside. Finally she stared at the empty fireplace, and she could make the outline of what seemed to be a tiny door. She didn't have enough time to process as she could hear the door from behind turn and open. Moving aside the remains of the firewood, she crawled into the fireplace, and she did so quickly, as Michael had just come in, his crimson eyes darting back and forth, looking for her. 

"You won't get away so easily, my dearest..." he cooed. "I'll always catch you!" He looked under the bed, and behind the old dresser, and even inside it. She wasn't there. He roared in rage, blowing away all the objects. "Damn you!! I will get you!" Once again, he disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. 

Her body felt so heavy as she kept crawling. The dark, cramped tunnel seemed to go on forever. How long was she going to get stuck in this nightmare? My arms are so heavy already, she thought. And my legs are gonna go numb. I don't have anything except a journal and a key made of glass... Tears started falling down as she used the last of her strength to keep on crawling. It was better than being caught by that madman. 

Speaking of him, she began to wonder what he was exactly. That inhuman strength, crimson eyes... He couldn't be some sort of vampire, right? Vampires don't exist, she thought to herself. Don't be silly! Maybe it's just... just my imagination... What did I get myself into...

There was a small wooden door at the end of the tunnel, and pushing it open, she finally found herself in a smaller, gray room. There were heavy stone coffins all around. Some of them had names like "Jeremiah de Almeida-Royston", "Ignacia de Almeida-Royston".

Running her hands over the dusty lids, she realized that she was in a crypt. The Royston family crypt. One of the coffins then caught her eye, as this seemed to be made of wood, painted black and gold, and looked newer than the rest. She approached it, and the name on the lid caused her to nearly fall over. 

ROYSTON, MICHAEL SEBASTIAN DE ALMEIDA