<u>Ophelia’s memories, 2nd life</u>


    I woke up with rattling noises on the windows. The pouring rain had stopped, and the wind had grown as quiet as a mouse, as if nature''s tantrum had grown to a close. With drowsy eyes, my gaze traveled through the room, thinking Maeve was trying to sneak in to scare me, as she often did, but everything seemed the same. Moments after my head drowned itself on the pillow, I fell asleep.


    But the events of that night were endless as the sound of a window knocking over and over again awoke me from my slumber. Ruthlessly, the wind pushed and pulled the item, as its obnoxious sound rung through the whole estate, certainly causing some discomfort to those who attempted to rest.


    Without hesitating, my figure got out of bed and stretched as far as it could just to grab the wooden edge of the window, closing it with a single movement. Certainly, this was another prank from Maeve, who often loved to belittle me in these types of situations, causing me the most discomfort possible. My gaze fell outside, noticing the blinding sights of the moon, unable to see the land as dark clouds stole all its light to themselves, causing everything beneath to be swallowed by intense darkness.


    I hope it won''t rain again...


    About to lie on the bed, a sharp pain struck my abdomen, slicing me through my back. "Found you..."


    "What... it hurts..." I groaned, losing the strength in my legs, body falling onto the bed. Unable to understand what was happening, my figure attempted to move, just to realize it was far too weak to do so.


    "You shouldn''t be sleeping with the Marquess you know... some people don''t like that type of service..." A man''s voice. Right in my chambers.


    Yet, once I looked back, all that appeared was a thick brown bearded man with a rather neutral brown hair - not possessing any unique features except his sharp gaze who glared down at me and curled up lips who carried a rather evil smile, clearly pleased about something lurking in the corners of his mind.


    "But I don''t... I haven''t..." Before being able to complete my sentence, nerves rushing to my cheeks out of frustration, he interrupted me.


    "You don''t have to play games with me, missy, you see... I know women like you from the back of my hand, I''ve fucked quite a few." He chuckled, cleaning the knife with a small piece of black cloth taken from his pocket.


    At that moment, rain started to pour down, almost as if it was laughing at my pitiful luck. The sound of droplets falling on the mansion, on the windows, on the green grass echoed through our surroundings, causing the noises of the rattling of the leaves to fade, all other sounds to be cancelled by its existence. However, a lightning struck a nearby tree.


    The man''s gaze widened, seeing my complexion, laying on the bed, sweat dripping from my pores, body growing colder by the second. A thin line replaced the wide grin on his lips, as if his mind was playing tricks on him.


    "It can''t be... you''re way to young..." His figure approached mine, hovering over my body. When his hands grabbed my hair, he pulled my face upwards. "How old are you, girl?"This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "I''m... Ophelia Criswell... Layton... Verne''s wife..." Breathlessly, the words took its sweet time to roll out of my tongue.


    "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" The man''s voice gradually became louder as he ran around in circles. "I messed up... I messed up! Shit!"


    As the assassin walked around the room, an intense dizziness struck my being, feeling weaker and colder by the second. Foolishly, my arms pulled the torso upwards but ended up falling once again. Blood now tainted my white sheets red, consuming its purity with its essence, as if they had been created for this sole purpose. The pain darting through my nerves was excruciating, making me want to yell, making me want to beg for mercy - and yet, my soul couldn''t bring itself to.


    Maybe this was it, the ending of the unlucky curse, just like she deserved. Who was I, to go against the will of fate?


    Suddenly, the man stopped in his tracks, lips curling upwards in a sickening smile. "That''s perfect... well, since I can''t have you snitching on me missy, I must bear another sin in my cross."


    He grabbed my legs, putting them carelessly on the bed until I laid fully on the mattress, stomach sinking in the sheets. As he did, the wound on my abdomen stretched further, ripping pieces of my flesh with every movement.


    "Please... I... I won''t... say anything... I swear..."


    "Of course, you won''t... dead men tell no tales after all." His figure was now beside me, heading to my bedside table.


    My heart thumped rapidly, noticing the assassin''s hands grabbing the oil lantern, his sharp gaze searching to the handle to open its contents. Like a broken clock, my destiny was repeating itself again, but this time, at the hands of another man - he was about to burn me alive, all to bury the evidence of his wrongdoings.


    "Don''t you... feel any... guilt?" Things were starting to rotate mercilessly, and my words seemed to be dragging through mud, unable to reflect the feelings lingering in my mind, to the human compassion I''d heard so much about.


    "Guilt? You may be young missy, but you are a noble. Certainly, your closet as many skeletons, and even if it doesn''t now, it would have in the future. Maybe you should consider this... early atonement?" As he spoke, the oil of the lantern dropped onto the sheets, onto me, into my wound.


    "Please... I beg of you... anything... anything but that..." I tried to speak as coherently as my body allowed, as loud as my voice could reach.


    "It will be over soon, don''t worry." His fingers grabbed a matchbox on the first drawer of the cabinet and lit it.


    The moment the flame landed on the sheets the fire rapidly spread, quicker than the sound of thunder, taking my body as its last meal. Again, the irking sensation of burned flesh covered me, consumed my thoughts, making it seem like the earlier wound was nothing but a minor cut, a wound that could barely be addressed as such. As my screams echoed through the mansion, hoping to get help, to be saved by the kindness of another, the assassin jumped down, leaving the window open as he went.


    With all the strength left in me, my body attempted to crawl to the drops of rain that sneaked in from the window but before I could reach its release my figure was unable to move further. I could feel it, how the skin had already melted, how my muscles were exposed, allowing a piercing pain to travel through my nerves who would soon be consumed by the blazes.


    What did I do wrong this time...? Were the only thoughts roaming in me, as the remaining of my consciousness slowly faded away. Why does this keep happening to me...?


    The door opened and Maeve entered - somehow, she''d heard my screams even in the middle of such thunderstorm - but her face paled, completely horrified. Knowing there was no way to save me, or so I wished to believe, she ran away, screaming her lungs out, knocking on every single door as she went.


    And thus, the last thing my senses could capture were the panic sounds of people running through the hallways, screaming for dear life, attempting to survive the flames of Blasphemy.