'F' Is for Forbidden

Life has no boundaries, my parents taught me that. If I wanted something, I could have it. The simple snap of a finger, a gentle whistle under my breath. If it was truly meant to be mine, it would come to me willingly.

Not that I had any right to complain over what I wanted or needed. Every day to me was Christmas. I’d wake up and finds dozens of presents awaiting my love, whether it be a Lamborghini or built-in home cinema.

But, as it turns out, some people hated Christmas.

And I’d become one of them.

I downcast my eyes, pretending they were copying my friends’ reactions, as they flocked around my new motor. Like moths to the flame, I thought.

Boys and girls of Brichwood Manor: Academy for the Elite all ahh’ed and ooh’ed at my new accessory. It was the best out of all the cars in the park, and everyone knew it.

“Gosh, Jensen, how much did you have to beg your Daddy for this?” Nora Edenheart asked. We had known each other since I enrolled in to this place. She’d recognized me immediately from pictures on the internet and insisted on labeling herself my best friend.

I never thought to correct her. Whenever we fought, she’d cry and proclaim how horrible of a bestie I was. I’d reply with a nonchalant shrug and a ‘I never said I was yours’.

The girl needed some tough love, lucky I was there to provide it.

“I didn’t, actually. I woke up to it this morning, along with a cinema in what used to be the guest bedroom.”

That received me another chorus of adoration. Get a grip, I scolded them all mentally.

As the bell resounded from within the building, I was already walking away from the death-trap and its admirers. Nora wasn’t very far behind me, mind you, but she wouldn’t shut up about it, no matter how I pouted.

The petite blonde skipped beside me, which made her uniform shift out of place. Brichwood was strict regarding its attire. Skirts were to be touching the knee, no higher or lower, white stockings to be donned with ballet flats or sandals. The shirts were old-fashioned Victorian puffy things, cerulean blue and long-sleeved, hiding any trace of skin. If any of the clothes were to be damaged or torn, we were expected to have exact back-ups, which cost two hundred dollars per garment piece.

We entered inside before anybody else (mostly because they parted way for us), but my eyes had to once again adjust to the interior of the castle, as it did every time.

It was like many of the schools on the outskirts. High ceilings, dark grey masonic walls and a courtyard for us to find peace and serenity within. It looked like a prison most times, what with the wall-length windows that were sealed using bars. There was also a constant echo on the third floor, which was usually followed by a low hum. There were no classrooms on the third floor, so I’d always been curious what was up there.

The one time I did follow, I only found an owl perching on a window, begging for live food. It was a definite disappointment.

I shook my head free of thought, as Nora slid her arm through mine and tried dragging me to class.

I said ‘tried’ because, as everyone knew fairly well, I was quite stubborn when I wanted to be – and she was kind of weak.

“Come on, Jen, first lesson is demonology with Mr Wong.” The plead in her voice would’ve startled me into motion any other moment, but for some reason, I was stuck.

“Go without me.” I dismissed her with my hand as I continued to scour my surroundings. I’d been going to this school for nearly four years, yet the mystery of the third floor had eluded me. Well, today was going to be the last.

I watched Nora as she bounced her way to class, as quickly as her short legs would take her. At five foot three, she was below average height and unlikely to follow in her mother’s footsteps, but she had adapted some of her looks over time. A small cherub face, with pinchable cheeks that looked like they were trying to be exotic and a slim figure, she wasn’t close to undesirable. Yet, she also wasn’t a majorly significant girl, but there was a reason she was here. There always was.

The rest of the students had dispersed and followed to their classrooms, leaving me alone in the dark shroud of the corridor. Next to me may have been the courtyard, which bloomed with elegance and a radiation of color, but it was almost like we were at separate ends of the earth. On that side, it was daylight, looking forward to the rain to come splattering down and cover it with its nutrients. Where I was, it was black and lonely, grey not only in shades.

Unclipping my shoes, I tucked them into my bag as I made way for the east staircase. With one last look behind me for any rogue lecturers, I dashed up the stone marble. I forgot how cold it was, my toes were surely frozen.

I was exhausted by the time I reached the second floor. The steps weren’t this steep last week, were they? I didn’t think so. At least, not that I could remember.

Keeping a fixated ear out, I trembled with unease when I couldn’t distinguish any form of sound. Silence was the enemy, I’d grown up knowing that, especially when that meant sharing a mansion with my father.

The haunting thrills that echoed throughout my whole body were almost enough to stop me, but I was too far gone. I was determined to uncover this ‘ghost’ or whatever it was.

It was cold here, the temperature had definitely dropped a few degrees. I bet if I got to the top, I’d be able to see my own breath – which, good to say, was only a few steps away now.

So, no matter how far, I’d get there.

One day.

And I say this because, despite my resolve and aching heart, I couldn’t bring myself to take the final couple of steps. It was darker up here, darker than the right half of the building. I’d be walking in blind. Once I opened that door, I wouldn’t be able to take it back.

I was a smart girl. That action, however, would not be.

With a dampened mood and reality of having to face a class full of questions, I slumped against the wall. I knew I couldn’t stay long, soon a teacher would pop up and I’d be slapped with a detention slip.

Breathing in and out didn’t come easily, which was odd. There was a pressure on my chest, the same kind you experience during sleep paralysis. Crushing, weighing me down like…

“…into each soul…”

If my eyes weren’t already open, they would have done so then. Those words… I hadn’t said them. And there was no one down the stairs, at least not close enough to me that I could hear them so perfectly.

Picking my feet up although they felt like boulders falling to the ground, I ascended those last four steps and reached a hand out to the door.

“Don’t evoke liars like ourselves, look into each soul. Don’t evoke liars like ourselves, look into each soul.”

That voice, I didn’t know it. Not that it could be described either, nor could I fully wrap my head around those words.

I didn’t have the patience to linger, as my hand shook with a fever, begging to open the door and see the mystery itself. Soon, I’d clasp that metal knob, I’d rotate it and be met with the reason for my curiosity.

My age-old desire was going to be fulfilled. I could taste it.

“Don’t evoke liars like ourselves, look into each soul…” It continued, like a mantra.

Then, a sound so disconcerting, so agonizing ripped through the atmosphere that it had me recoiling. Coming from through the keyhole, it echoed off the metal plate and bounced off the walls, until it had crashed into me. The pressure was worse than what had been on my breast only moments before, as my eardrums felt like they were bleeding.

I went to clasp them as I stepped back… and my heel touched the edge of the marble stoop. The new rubber of my soles were still smooth and undamaged, so therefore had no sense of grip. As a result, my body decided to be propelled.

I was out the second my spine cracked against concrete.