When I woke I found myself to be in seemingly the exact same spot and position I had passed out in. However, the area around me looked entirely different. My blood no longer covered the floor, which now appeared to be made of a dark polished wood. There was now a large woven rug beneath me, providing some cushion. To my left was a small coffee table, which looked to be hand crafted and also polished. To my right was a raised hearth of nested fitted stones. They blended out into what was now a wall maybe of a combination of wood and stone. It had no windows. Within the hearth a decent fire flickered. It was considerably small for the room provided to it. High on the wall above the fireplace was a large portrait. A painting I hadn’t seen in a long time. Sunni and I were sitting together in a large armchair, while our siblings and parents stood around and behind us.
In front of me I could see a large oaken door, it was ornate and had gold detailing. I propped myself up carefully and made my way to my feet. I was still in my gown which remained stained crimson. I checked where I had been injured and sighed as each one was fully healed over. I began looking more around at my new surroundings. Directly opposite the oak door on the far wall were some double doors, both of which had windows on them. I made my way to look out to maybe get some semblance of where I was. In the corner by the doors was an old grand piano, I had to walk around it partially to get to the doors.
“This is a little too far out.” I commented to myself as I placed a hand on the key cover. Much to my surprise it then moved on its own to be pushed completely into the corner, leaving the walkway clear. I stared at it for a good few minutes before continuing to make my way to the doors.
Outside the windows I could see a short porch with a swing and a cover. It seemed to wrap around towards the right and I couldn’t see where it ended. Beyond the porch I could see the endless white void. So I was exactly where I had passed out. This house had just crafted itself within the void. I turned back to the fireplace and where I had been on the floor was now filled with a few pieces of leather furniture. A couch, two chairs, and a loveseat. Opposite the fireplace was a tall staircase, above it a small balcony with two doors on it. The stairs came straight down for several steps before rotating to the right, where it met the floor. Examining them further, they also appeared hand crafted and polished, like the coffee table. There were distinct carve marks on each step and large posts which seemed to each be entire tree trunks marked each point in the turn. It had a rail all the way up which was carefully detailed.
The walkway at the base of the stairs went further away from the living room with one branch off. The break off walkway went behind and under the staircase. It seemed to wrap back to the living room. There were more stairs immediately beneath the ones leading to the indoor balcony, leading down into the floor, curving in the same direction so I couldn’t see what all was down there. I went back to the main path.
Just a bit further there was a small nook out to the right. There was a large table with each seat already set. Once more the table and the chairs each appeared hand made. And further along was a really large kitchen which contained just about everything. I remember staring at it for several minutes just taking all of it in. Eventually I broke myself away to go see what was up the stairs. Once I was on the balcony I turned to look back over the whole of the living area. I was now at the same height as the painting and when I looked at it, my eyes instinctually met my mother’s. I quickly looked away and made my way beyond the doors.
On the other side was a massive bedroom. In the center was a bed I could only call “huge”. It looked at the very least king sized but it was definitely bigger. The frame itself, like almost every other piece of furniture, was visually handmade, and there was a thick comforter draped all the way to the floor on either side. Star patterns sewn in against a deep purple.. To the left came a shock. Against the far left wall, in a corner, there was a large bathtub. It appeared to be built into the room as it had its own walls and steps leading up to the edge. I decided to ignore that for now.
Over to the right was something I didn’t expect in the slightest. There was a large triangular window, following the roof line on one side. Outside the window I could see trees and sky. Like the window sat on a mountain cliff. Which of course didn’t make a lick of sense at first because the two doors downstairs just led out to the void of this pocket dimension. Putting too much thought into it made me dizzy so I made my way back to the center of the room. I sat on the end of the bed, still in that gown.
“I need new clothes,” I said aloud to myself, and to my surprise a door appeared near the bathtub. That was something I definitely had to work to get used to. I stood back up and walked to the new door. Beyond it was a considerably large walk in closet. Why every room ended up being so big I do not know, at the time they were quite overwhelming but I’ve adjusted since then.
I picked out some jeans, a button down, and sweater to wear, along with a pair of tennis shoes. I chose not to question how they all fit so well. I looked into the mirror on one of the walls to make sure it looked okay. I believe that was the first time I ever picked out my own clothing, and I was quite proud of it. I was curious how it would look if I tied my hair back. It had become about medium length. However as I held back a small pony tail with my hand all the scars on my forehead became fully visible. I let the hair fall back to cover it.
I made my way back downstairs and over to one of the only two places I hadn’t yet checked. The ornate door in the living room. I had no interest in going down to the basement yet. I pushed down the knob and pulled it open. Outside that door was dense forest. I stepped out and looked back. The door was against an outstandingly massive tree. Redwood. I couldn’t see anything behind the tree to indicate a house of any sort. And the door was seemingly swinging into the trunk itself. With the limited knowledge that I had at that point it didn’t make a lick of sense to me, so I just went back inside and sat on the couch facing the fire which still burned in the hearth.
I sat there for hours, I think, I can’t be certain. I had put myself into something called “soul space”. Which is essentially just my species’ way of disassociating. We withdraw ourselves from our bodies into this room within our minds. When we do this our eyes seem to “catch fire” and visually look like small suns. Which, given my species’ origin, makes sense, I suppose. It’s sort of a physical space we can exist within. Twins share a soul space from birth. So, I now try to avoid it if possible, but occasionally I check, just to make sure she’s not there. The silence is absolutely maddening. I sat in soul space on that couch for a long time.
Once I came out of it, I had decided that I would go to bed then, and when I woke up I would go to find Atticus and Virginia. I wanted to see them again, and let them know I was okay. I went back up the stairs and climbed into bed. The comforter was heavy and the mattress soft. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow and It was the first actually good sleep I had gotten in years.
When I woke up it looked like mid afternoon according to the window, however I can never be sure exactly where it’s showing unless it’s a widely recognizable location. I was still wearing the clothing I had put on from the closet, aside from the tennis shoes which I slipped back on. Yawned and stretched to wake myself up before making my way back downstairs. I didn’t know where they were, but I knew I had to find the Millers. That was my first mission, and I was determined to complete it no matter the costs.
I went into the kitchen. Breakfast would come first. I hadn’t eaten in well over a year at that point and I could use the energy boost. On the peninsula island was a bowl of fruit: apples, bananas, and oranges. I picked up an apple and carried it to the sink, washing it off before taking a bite. A red delicious. When I turned back to the peninsula there was something new that definitely wasn’t there just moments prior. It was a newspaper dated September 29th, 1938. The top fold front page story title read in bold: “Horrible car accident kills 2.” As I stared at it I noticed another of the pages seemed to be dog-eared. I finished the apple and tossed the core in a trashcan. It promptly vanished entirely. Lifting the newspaper I unfolded it and flipped to the marked page, brows furrowed. The top of that page read “Obituaries”. There were only two names on it.
Atticus Miller, 28, 1910-1938
Virginia Miller, 25, 1913-1938
I was frozen. That couldn’t be right. They were always so careful, what happened? The front page story. Shakily I closed the newspaper to read it.
HORRIBLE CAR ACCIDENT KILLS 2**: On Monday, September 26, a Ford Coup careened off the side of Cadillac Summit Road and caught fire at the bottom of a small valley between the peaks, killing the two occupants later identified by their dental records as Atticus and Virginia Miller. It is unknown as to the cause of the crash, however speculation suggests car issues or drunkenness as the road was in good condition for driving.
I couldn’t read any further. The paper fell from my hands and I collapsed to my knees. That wasn’t an accident. They had been killed because of me. Their death was on my hands. It was my fault. I yelled out to nobody, overwhelmed with despair. They were all I could have had. And now I was left with nothing.
That was when an entirely new emotion washed over me, something I wasn’t used to for sure. Rage. They were all going to pay. Each and every single one of them. I stood from the floor, my face was neutral but anger coursed through me. That rage lasted for at most a minute before I came to my senses. I was still angry, that was certain, but that was overwhelmed by mostly sadness. The rage didn’t feel like me at all. I left the newspaper on the counter and went into the living room.
On the coffee table there were two things, another newspaper, and an open 1946 calendar which had two dates circled in red. The first date circled was November 3rd, and in the box was written “escape”. The next date was November 12th, which read “today”. Since I had initially woken up the day before I concluded that meant I was unconscious on the floor for 8 days.
The Newspaper, which was dated November 11th’s front page header read: “Investigation Causes Saint Neumann’s Asylum Closure. Staff Arrested.” I read on.
On Monday, November 4th, an investigation was sparked into the Saint Neumann’s Asylum after a manhunt raised suspicion. Many patients have seemingly vanished from the hospital’s grounds with little searching done in years past, but after one particular patient’s escape on Sunday evening, many staff rounded up local men to track down the patient. The hospital’s reasoning for such a search out of nowhere was that the escaped patient was incredibly dangerous to both himself and the public, though they wouldn’t release his name or where he could be. Police searched the nearby woods and-
I put the paper back down. I already knew what went on within those walls. A smile crossed my face as tears fell. At least I did one good thing.
Part 5