Chapter 9 #4
I can see why people lose their minds in the padded asylum rooms of Harkin House.
Each cell is created to block out all sound and sight, created specifically to torture someone into madness.
If they weren’t already to begin with. They say if you’re not already mad when you enter that place, you will be within days.
We come to a small courtyard with a beautiful fountain standing in the middle.
A phoenix rises from the center, water rushing out of its beak into the basin below.
We don’t stop to admire it. We just turn left and continue.
We cross rows upon rows of thick hedges and pass random stone statues. Each more grand than the prior.
After what feels like hours, we come to another courtyard with another phoenix fountain. The water is beckoning us to drink, asking us if we’re thirsty. Tempting us. How long has it been since we’ve had anything? Without thinking, I shove both hands in, cupping the water.
I yelp and yank my hands back out.
Both are covered in hundreds of little cuts, blood seeping from the abrasions. The water continues to shimmer in an invitation to quench our thirst. The shimmers aren’t reflections, though—there’s no sun for the water to reflect off.
If I weren’t so bone-tired, I’d have noticed this before.
I’m getting sloppy. The water is full of little shards of crystal.
Sharp enough to tear flesh. The phoenix looks down on me, standing in the same stance as the previous one.
The only difference is that I swear this one has a condescending look on its face.
“Uh, Nori… you may want to look at this,” Finnley calls from an archway.
I flick off the phoenix before walking over.
He’s hunched down looking at something in the sand, ashy curls falling over his scrunched brow.
I stop next to him, bending down to look at the dark sand. The arch’s entrance has two sets of footprints.
Our footprints.
We’ve been here before.
“Son of a bitch…. The walls must have moved.”
We’ve been walking in circles for hours. How many times have the walls moved and we haven’t noticed? Have we been seeing the same stone statues over and over again? All the hedge looks the same, every part identical. It’s impossible to tell how long we’ve been in here.
I open my mouth, then slam it shut. Bitching and complaining right now won’t get us anywhere.
Life’s not fair, Norissa. Caderyn women do not show weakness.
My mother’s words come at me full force. I stand up, working out our next move in my head. We can’t leave breadcrumbs or any kind of trail, per the professor. But he never said anything about going out of our way to prevent them from naturally occurring.
My nails dig into my palms.
Finnley stands to his full height, looking left and then right. He runs a hand down his stubbled jaw before turning his attention back to me.
I see the moment he decides.
“We wing it,” he states as if it’s the most obvious answer.
“Yeah, look how well that’s worked out for us so far,” I retort.
“Listen, we don’t exactly have a choice,” he says, his voice filled with patience that I’m not sure I deserve.
“I know that,” I reply, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Then let’s go,” he answers, his eyes blazing with determination.
I take a deep breath. “Then let’s go.”
We turn left and then right. Then left. We just keep picking random arches, hoping our luck changes, and we see something different, but it’s just endless hedge and onyx sand.
We’re almost to the point of feeling delirious when we walk through a small arch and come to a pathway filled with mirrors.
Hedges still line both sides, same as all the other pathways, but this one has mirrors hanging from them in varying sizes.
Some are simple in design, others are intricate and antique-looking.
My fingers trail down the bronze frame of a particularly old-looking mirror. The attention to detail is magnificent. The creator poured their love and creativity into it.
Finnley hasn’t stepped forward yet and is looking at the mirrors through narrowed eyes, as if they’re going to sprout legs and chase us.
“Got any tricks hidden up your sleeve to help with this one?” he tosses nonchalantly my way.
I look at him and roll my eyes.
“Well, just thought I’d ask,” he says before proceeding to walk down the pathway.
“No, the only trick I had was saving your ass,” I shoot back, using my middle finger to apply imaginary lipstick before blowing him a kiss.
He catches it and shoves it in his pocket. “For later,” he says while giving me an exaggerated wink.
I bet he practiced that for hours while looking at himself.
I walk in front of the mirror I was admiring and peer at my reflection.
Vibrant red hair sticks out in various places, my long braid almost entirely undone at this point.
Black blood splatters are splashed across the right side of my face and the bridge of my nose.
My usual vibrant green eyes appear tired and dull.
Even my expression is muted and monotonous.
I look like a dim version of myself.
I shift to the side, and my reflection does the same.
I stick out my tongue, and it follows suit.
Long, slender fingers wiggle back at me as I raise my hands and move them.
But then the subdued expression on my face slowly morphs into something else.
Full lips pull up into a taunting sneer with one delicate brow arching sinisterly.
I instinctively touch my face.
The reflection in the mirror never raises her hands. She just continues to watch me with morbid satisfaction shining in her eyes. I glance over at Finnley, who is walking from mirror to mirror, investigating each of them.
“Why are you looking at him?” it mocks in a cynical tone. “Have you settled on the knight in shining armor since Ambrose will never love you the way you love him?”
I rear back as if I’ve been struck, refocusing on my likeness.
“Haven’t you learned that no one will ever truly love you?” it hums, raking its eyes up and down my body. “You just keep being the good girl, the one who yearns for the approval and admiration of others, all the while putting on a brave front of not caring what anyone thinks.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Or rather, it does.
I just go completely still.
Clutching its sides, it tampers down its maniacal laughter long enough to spit more poison in my direction. “You can’t even make Mommy Dearest proud, can you? And how could you? It’s because of you that the love of her life left,” it delivers with dark pleasure.
Fatality.
She just killed me with a wound to the heart.
I’d love to just cover my ears like a small child and pretend nothing she said wasn’t already festering inside me, but that would be a lie.
Instead, I retaliate.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I say with all the conviction I can muster.
Finnley’s head whips toward me. “I didn’t say anything.”
The reflection laughs at me in pity. I step back, retreating from the merciless taunts. Quickly, I turn and flee toward Finnley, who’s watching me with curiosity.
“You good?” he asks me, his eyes laced with concern.
I offer him a thumbs-up because I can’t trust myself to talk and not cry simultaneously. Cautiously, while walking his way, I throw a peek sideways at the mirror next to me. It’s just my normal reflection. An exhausted girl staring at me with trepidation in her eyes.
I hesitantly walk over to it.
I raise my brows, and the reflection does the same. I mimic pulling the string of a bow and releasing an arrow, and the reflection follows.
With a heavy sigh, I lower my head. I feel stripped raw and grossly vulnerable right now.
“You will never wear the signia of a Veil. You aren’t pure enough, Norissa, and you know it.”
I stiffen but don’t look up.
“You may play pretend and act so pristine, but you can’t lie to me. Yourself. I know how very dark we truly are,” it hisses full of malice. “And soon, so will everyone else. Oh, how Mommy will be so very disappointed.”
I lift my head, heavy from the weight of the words thrown at me, and punch the mirror, causing glass to shatter all around.
Blood drips down my knuckles into the dark sand.
Drip, drip, drip.
“Finnley, let’s go,” I plead, staring at the broken shards of glass hanging from the mirror. I need out of this place.
But he doesn’t answer me. Lifting my head toward him, I see him just standing and staring into a simple-looking mirror rimmed with a burnished gold frame.
Dammit. Not him, too.
“FINNLEY! DON’T LOOK IN IT,” I shout, my feet already moving and flying across the sand. “LOOK AT ME!”
He continues gazing into the mirror, a look of agony tearing across his face. I’m close enough now that I can hear the words clear as day when he murmurs them.
“Don’t go. Please don’t go,” he begs, gripping the edges of the mirror hard enough that his knuckles turn white.
I push myself even harder.
Almost there.
He places his palm on the mirror as if he can touch the person he’s seeing. The next moment, he’s pulled through.