New Chapter, Done Done

New chapter, done done ‼️🌞

Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 2: The "interview"

You happen to have a strange dream that night. It's cold , the ground is wet while chilly darkness surrounds you - the pitch black colour of the night is meant to be scary, yet despite your poor vision you feel comfortable. The mist around you is so thick you can almost chew on it , it shields you from the monsters in the forest.

Your ears twitch when you hear rustling of leaves somewhere close , too close. Long , firm and steady - your legs are able to move faster than usual. Your body feels light as a feather and you run through the trees with ease.

Vision is easily manipulated. You only understand this when you no longer feel soil but cement under your feet. You wonder why your eyes betray you like that,...these eyes... do they even belong to you?

You are out of breath, your heart is racing, but you no longer hear the rustling in the forest. Even if you didn't know what was hidden there, your escape seemed to be necessary.

You don't manage to even turn your head before something hits you. The impact is so strong that your brain begins to pulsate , and you're barely breathing anymore for a totally different reason. A blanket of blood covers you and you barely keep your eyes open when…

The face staring at you is inhumane, grotesque and terrifying. Yet something about those dark, blue eyes seems awfully familiar...

*****

You wake up with a gasp. Eyes wide open , body sweating and mouth hanging open. You swallow, feeling your throat complete dry. Your limps are like boneless when you try to lift yourself up the bed , almost falling down on the floor in the process. You grab your head in sweaty palms and groan.

A nightmare, you haven't had one in years. The images in your head are already starting to fade as you slowly observe your surrounding. Where were you again?

The walls are painted in a pleasant white color, which makes the room to look cozier. It is small, but you can easily live in it. However, the fact that there is not much furniture indicates that it has most likely not been used for some time. And yet it is perfectly clean.

Maybe what you like the most is the individual bathroom. You also find it pleasant how the large window is near the bed yet the light from it does not fall on your face but instead tickles your feet. It's much better to wake up like this.

Feeling a little bit more relaxed you roll your shoulders back along with your head until you feel your back crack, releasing all tension from your body. Then you roll in the bed , stretching your arms and legs.

Now fully awake you find yourself staring mindlessly at the door, as if you expected someone to walk in any moment. When that doesn't happen you decide it's best to go to your car and get your suitcase. Even though the fabric of the nightgown is wonderful you want to wear your normal clothes.

You quickly check your phone. The disappointment is not very severe when you're met with a screen - devoid of any new notifications. Your gaze shifts to see the time - it's still early, you might be able to go get your suitcase before anyone can see you in your pajamas.

A few quick steps are enough for you to cross the room and get a hold of the door handle. Before you can press it though you hear a voice and then you move back as the wooden door opens from the outside.

"...good morning" - the little girl in front of you looks pretty young and despite her soft, sweet voice you can sense coldness in her tone. Her pursed lips expose her slight annoyance.

"Morning...who might you be?" - you force a smile , it's clear to you that the girl is Miranda's other daughter but as you remember the talk with Eveline from last night you try to look as clueless and friendly as you can.

"Eva" - a simple name , beautiful and symbolic. You glare at the kid in front of you - her face looks stone cold, her eyebrows are slightly furrowed as her blue eyes shine in precautionary manner, she looks mean...- "can you move?Now?"

Even her way of speaking reminds you of her mother...rude but not completely, there's a fake amiability covering her words. The girl is a complete copy of Miranda. Almost down to every detail - even her long , golden hair that is nicely tied up in a ponytail.

You surrender , lifting your hands in the air as you take a few steps back, to allow Eva to walk into the room. It's only then when you notice she's carrying your suitcase.

"Hey, that's a bit heavy for you don't you think?" - you extend your arm to grab it from her but she quickly moves to the side , not allowing you to even get close to the handle.

Did she carry the suitcase all the way up here by herself?

You don't have time to make another comment. The girl drops the heavy suitcase in the middle of the room and turns to you - surprisingly with a big smile on her face.

"I did it! You saw that right? I did it!" - Eva jumps around the room , happy and full of energy. Maybe you were too quick to judge her. She is a child after all.

You praise and thank her for bringing your suitcase and she giggles.

"Mommy just lost a bet" - the girl's smirk grows even more and you laugh along, pressing your back to the wall.

"What will you make her do?"

"Not sure yet" - her eyes travel between you and the door - "I'll probably ask her for sweets... speaking of it she expects you for breakfast"

"Breakfast... better to get ready then" - you murmur as you push yourself off the wall.

Eva is quick to run off , down the corridor. Before you can shut the door closed you hear her soft voice echoing from afar - telling you to hurry, as Miranda is not a patient woman.

You try to be fast , you don't want to disappoint your boss...more like future boss if you even get the job today, even more. Your fingers unzip the suitcase and you begin to pull out needed clothes. You don't go fancy with your outfit, though you think about it, but you reject the idea Miranda would go easy on you just because you dressed nicely.

However while brushing your hair you notice your car keys on the nightstand and your eyes widen. You're sure you locked your car last night. And the keys haven't been moved.

Then... how did they manage to take your suitcases from the trunk to your room?

*****

You take your time to find the right way to the kitchen. You vaguely remember the different rooms from last night. Even though you note the mansion is not that big as it seemed, you still need to figure out your way around.

You pass a familiar room - the table with the two armchairs are the same as last night. The only thing missing is the pile of ashes on the floor. And from there you make a turn to finally reveal the kitchen.

The light from the window illuminates the table, highlighting the unusually fruit-laden surface. The colors of the kitchen are a bit brighter than the rest of the house. It's welcoming. The decor of the mansion is really eye-catching.

The contrasts of light and dark colors are well chosen. It is strange how some parts of the estate feel warm while in others you can almost freeze to death. And the portraits, the details, the elements in the architecture are attractively perfect. The mansion surely matches it's owner.

Speaking of which... Miranda sits gracefully at the corner, with her legs crossed and elbows resting on the table. In her hands she holds a notebook whose inscription is in another language and you do not understand it. Her eyes are too busy staring at the rows to notice you.

She only acknowledges your appearance after you clear your throat. She lifts her head and smiles , one of her fingers points to a chair next to her - inviting you to sit.

"Slept well?"

"More than well , that bed is awfully comfortable" - you don't lie when you answer her , the mattress is very different from what you have at home - much more nicer and softer. To think that they don't even use this room... you never understood this , why buy a big house if you're not gonna use all the rooms. Miranda doesn't look like a person to often invite guests either. It's truly a waste.

As you take a sit on the chair next to her you notice how her vision unfocuses and her attention shifts completely off you. You turn your head to the direction of her gaze.

Eveline and Eva slowly approach the kitchen table, loudly discussing something. They both stop to greet their mother and as emerald colour eyes meet yours , you try to pretend you're seeing them for the first time. The test is easy.

"Eva informed me that you have already met her" - Miranda speaks proudly, with her hands on top of her daughter's shoulders. The little girl forces a smile , then she moves to escape her mother's grip - "but I'd like to present you to my other daughter"

Miranda watches closely , curiosity dancing in her eyes, as Eveline presents herself to you, for a second time.

"Wait" - you snap at the blonde woman, acting confused - "i thought you said I'll take care of one child?"

"Did i?" - her voice sounds so confident, so convincing...for a moment you forget yourself and the situation you're in - "I must have forgotten to mention about Eveline"

She's unbothered, her hand moves to the table, grabbing a cup of coffee, judging by the aroma of it , and she guides it to her lip , muttering an excuse as she takes a sip.

You don't have time to consider asking her another thing. A plate full of pancakes is shoved in front of you by the black haired girl. Silence falls around the table as you all begin to eat the breakfast - everyone except Miranda who only writes in her notebook and lifts her head from time to time to give sweet smiles to her children and sip from her coffee.

Her movements are quiet and you're too busy to wander in thought to anticipate her hands grabbing your shoulders sharply. She laughs at your reaction when you jump in your place. Miranda then whispers something in your ear and walks away , leaving you to battle alone with the piercing eyes of the two girls in front of you.

"Do you... know where to find your mother's office?" - you ask nervously, she could have just invited you there normally, why did she have to whisper it in your ear like that?

"Her office!?" - Eva exclaims , dropping her fork in the process - "How? Why!"

"She called me there!" - you defence yourself, not quite understanding what the fuss is about.

"Mother most likely invited her to the interview" - Eveline intervenes - "calm yourself"

Eva scoffs and purses her lips. Her arms are crossed in an annoyed manner as she speaks again.

"It's not fair! She doesn't even let us there"

The black haired girl's gaze falls upon you, her eyes are observing, curious,... vicious. If Eva got Miranda's looks then you are sure Eveline inherited her character and attitude.

"She must be special" - her eyes finally leave yours with these words. You can feel chills running down your spine and you rush to finish your breakfast so you can get rid of these kids as quickly as possible and go where Miranda has called you - to her office.

*****

After all none of the girls really told you where to find that so sacred room - making you wander through the mansion like an idiot. You decide to just knock on every closed door and hope for an answer. You suppose an office should be on the first floor and it doesn't actually take you that much time to find it.

A wooden door with a metal handle. Simple. You lift your hand and curl up your fingers. Miranda's sharp voice invites you in after a few knocks and you straighten your back before opening the door.

The smell of smoke hits your nose before you can notice the lit cigarette between her thin fingers. You resist the urge to cough, instead you close the door behind you and walk deeper into the room. A cunning smile appears on your lips.

"i thought you said you only smoke after long days?" - when she doesn't return your smile something snaps inside your brain, that is her second time lying to you, and it's not even been a full day.

"Sometimes even a morning can be long" - she puts out her cigarette by firmly pressing it on the surface of her desk, a closer look reveals the many small burn marks there , ruining a part of the furniture.

"You could have just told me you were a smoker"

"Does it matter?" - Miranda relaxes and leans against the back of her chair. Her legs cross again and the atmosphere around her changes.

"No..i was just-"

"Then , drop it" - she almost hiss the command, you gulp and obey immediately after she points at the chair in front of her desk. - "didn't your mother teach you not to stick your nose in other people's business?"

You bite your tongue just to stop yourself from snapping back at her. You clench your hands into fists so hard you can feel your nails digging into your skin. Miranda is amused by your reaction and finds it hard to hide her smile.

"Is something bothering you?" - that woman is way too rude. You relax your hands before answering her.

"I would appreciate it...if you don't talk about my mother" - she hums in approval but the look on her face is unsatisfied.

"Why?"

"She...I never got to know her" - you narrow your eyes as that familiar guilty feeling crawls back into your chest. You've always blamed yourself, how many nights you spent in wondering what her life would be if you weren't born? - "she died during childbirth, her first...and last."

Miranda's face is motionless , however her chest feels tight as well. She knows pain , she knows death...way too well. The blonde woman clears her throat to caught your attention and rests her elbows on the desk.

"A motherless child is a tragedy" - she declares , fingers fidgeting with the corner of a paper list in front of her- "almost as big as a childless mother, though yours got lucky...to die before her daughter"

Her comment snaps you back to reality and you really force yourself to stay calm , instead of running away from her , this room and house.

"Can we change the topic , please" - polite, just be polite and calm.

"Of course" - Miranda's hand moves along the desk until her fingers tap on the pack of cigarettes resting there , she opens it and groans - it's empty. - "i suppose...you have questions about Eveline. Now, she might not look like me but i assure you she's mine."

You wonder what she means by that. Despite the difference in their appearances you didn't once think Eveline is not her daughter. They are too much alike for you to even question that.

"I just assumed she looks more like your husband, maybe-"

"Husband?" - Miranda scoffs , there is a hint of mockery in her voice, she looks rather annoyed - "I'm afraid i have no interest in men"

Oh. Oh , great. You quickly understand you're dealing with one very mean lesbian. You don't judge her , not at all , but you're curious.

Your eyes follow the path of her fingers, her knuckles and veins. They stop at the shiny, silver ring wrapped around the fourth finger of her left hand. There's no doubt that's a wedding ring.

"Your wife , then?"

Miranda follows your gaze and the corners of her lips curl upwards, soon she smiles more widely than usual.

"I'm not married if that's what you're asking" - her hand jerks and the ring hits the surface of the desk with a tud , she doesn't even acknowledge it as it rolls down to the floor - "i just happen to adore jewelry."

Your careful observation of her hands proves that she doesn't wear any more rings , however you notice a dark necklace with rose elements wrapped around her neck , as well as the fancy earrings she wears - her ears are definitely pierced more than once. All of her jewelry shines within the sun's reach , making her look devine.

The awkward silence between you two grows with every second you spend in staring at her like a creep. Miranda finds this annoying, the paper she was playing with till now crumbles in her palm and the sound of it shakes you out of this weird trance.

"I remember vaguely about your young age..." - she starts again, trying to make the end of this conversation come faster - "but i don't recall asking about your education. Are you still in school?"

"In university actually"

"What do you study?" - Miranda is curious, not many people these days make it to university. Her desire to know more only grows with your answer.

"Well...for now I'm studying general medicine, but after that... I'm thinking of specializing in something higher"

The woman's smile is wide , revealing a nice set of white teeth beneath her soft looking lips. She is clearly interested.

"Do you want to be a doctor? A surgeon?" - her fingers tap on the wooden desk with every word, the almost silent sound somehow manages to crawl into your head and ring like a heavenly bell.

"More like a... scientist? I'm not sure yet.. but i do want to help people with diseases that are incurable."

"You want to cure something, no... someone specific" - Miranda's palms press on the desk and she lifts herself up , body hoovering over you - "Who?"

You take a sharp breath in , your fingers are trembling for some reason. Her eyes look crazy and awfully familiar but she's not scary. Then why are you afraid?

"My father" - you answer quickly , the memory of him fighting to take a breath running wild in your head - "i study so i can help him ...i- I'm here so i can pay for my education."

And other stuff you decide not to mention. But Miranda seems content, more than satisfied. She carefully sits back into the chair and sighs.

"You turn out to be very interesting" - her hand extend forward and you waste no time to grab and shake it with your own - "I'm looking forward to working with you"

"So i get the job?"

"All yours" - she confirms making your chest warm up with hope - "I've also decided to double your payment."

"Miranda...i don't think i can accept th-"

"If you think I'm pitying you - I'm not" - she snaps , her upper lip slightly twitching - "it's only fair if i pay you more , after all you're going to take care of both my children, correct?"

You nod slowly to show her you understand, even though you're nervously playing with your fingers in your lap you feel happy. Miranda's gaze lingers lower , somewhere under the desk as she speaks again.

"Speaking of which, i wanted to make it clear for you and i hope you understand" - the portrait of her face is yet again annoyed - "my children are no angels and trust me when i say I've lost more babysitters than you can imagine"

You laugh at the unusual way she says that. Lost...as if they all died. You nod again.

"I understa-"

"Lying was necessary" - she sounds concerned.

"I get it , i don-"

"They can be both difficult" - her gaze shifts to the floor again and she groans , looking awfully annoyed.

"I'm sure i can manage" - you give her a confident smile which she doesn't return.

"Very good then, remember your words" - she lifts herself up and slowly walks to a large cabinet near her desk , the long , black skirt she wear drags behind her on the floor like a dark veil - "i have a few rules you'll need to follow"

Of course she has rules. You hope it's nothing fancy or concerning.

"May I hear them?" - again, she doesn't return your friendly smile. Her moods are very... unique, easily changed and colorful as a rainbow.

"Your job is to take care of them , to entertain them. You're a babysitter, not a maid - I don't expect you to cook , clean or do anything like that"

"So... just wake them up, make sure they eat , play with them... do they go to school?" - while counting your duties on your fingers you tilt your head to the side , questioning her.

"They are homeschooled , i teach them everything they need to know" - she's back in her seat, holding firmly a piece of paper she got from the cabinet - "you can help them if they have any difficulties"

"I get it , anything else?"

"My job requires me to work from home...for now" - she looks to the side , glaring at a calendar on the wall , as if she's counting the days she will no longer work in the comfort of her home - "they know not to disturb me when I'm in my office or in the basement where my laboratory is , you can say I'm a scientist myself"

She gives you a warning not to go into her private space while she's busy , not like you were planning to. Yet you tell her you understand.

"Seems like I'm out of rules" - her fingers are alright crumpling the corners of the paper she's holding - "i do however have warnings"

"Let me hear them" - you sigh , leaning back into your chair and crossing your legs. A gesture that imitates her own body language.

"Eva can seem cold at first, she's not used to having other people around, but she's truly a sweetheart once she learns to trust you" - you notice how her face shines as she begins to talk about her daughter - "but i counsel you not to make any bets with her because she'll win and you'd probably loose something you love."

That makes you remember earlier when Eva managed to bring the heavy suitcase all the way up to your room. She said Miranda lost a bet with her. As your eyes meet her dark, blue ones you wonder what she promised to her little girl.

"Eveline is a complete opposite of her sister , she can very quickly become attached to you" - Miranda swallows as her eyes loose themselves somewhere down for a third time - "do be careful, she's more mature than she looks like"

Nothing she says surprises you, you drew these conclusions from your own observation of the children as soon as you met them. They are predictable, unlike their mother.

But Miranda...is weird. She looks young, too young for you to consider a mother with two children. If you were to see her on the street you'd think she's only a few years older than you. You also don't think she's the type of woman to carelessly get herself pregnant despite the fact that her daughters look nothing alike. She also claims to be unmarried but you're sure she owns a wedding ring. Miranda is a weird mystery.

"Is that everything, boss?" - she smirks at the nickname.

"I believe it is" - the paper which now destroyed corners is flipped and turned to you, finally revealing what it was - a contract - "I'll need you to sign this"

"Is this... necessary?" - you ask unsurely.

"Just sign , it's paperwork" - for a babysitter job?

You do as she tells you however you can't help but get this weird vibe, something is wrong. You don't know if it's her creepy smile or your trembling hand but the feeling slowly fades as the contract is pulled away from you - she stores it in the drawers of her desk this time.

Unbothered , she points at the door and waves you off. The sound of curious little feet running away from the entrance of her office as you press the handle makes you smile.

Once you close the door behind you - Miranda drops down to crawl on the floor , in search for her precious ring.

*****

Night comes faster than you expect. Today you understood that kids can be very exhausting but they are cute, you will give them that. As promised, Miranda only left her office to prepare lunch and then dinner, which you all ate together. She didn't have to tell her children what to study, they sat down and started reading and writing in the afternoon, on their own.

You can certainly get used to this life. Even if something bothers you, it will only be for a little while...you will endure. This is what you tell yourself as you lift the warm covers over your body and begin to drift to sleep on the comfortable bed.

One knock , then two , on the third you turn around, ignoring the sound and hoping you can escape from it. A few more follow and when you're sure they won't stop you open your eyes.

The time you spend trying to avoid things on the floor as you slowly make your way to the door seems like an eternity. But you manage and you gasp as you reveal who's behind all this knocking.

In front of you Eveline is crying, her face is red and puffy , her small hands appear to wipe away the tears that flow down her cheeks. Her head moves and she looks back in fear as if someone is chasing her.

"Is everything alright, sweetie?" - you kneel down to be at her eye level and you don't resist when she moves closer , her hands wrap around your neck and she hold you in a firm hug.

"Make them stop"

"Make who stop?" - you ask her , palms gently rubbing her back as she continues to sob on your shoulder.

"They keep on screaming, they won't stop" - she shakes while covering her ears - "make them stop , please make them stop"

"Is somebody here? Do you need me to get your mother?" - you ask nervously as you also begin to look around the corridor and the darkness within it.

"No!" - she exclaims , trying to break free from your grip, you allow her but she seems unsure in what to do. The tears continue to drop from her emerald eyes like rivers down her face.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

She shakes her head.

"Then what is it?" - you look at her with concern while she tugs on her pajamas.

"I can hear them..in the walls , they crawl on the floor and they scream" - she takes a deep breath as new clouds of tears appear in her eyes - "they scare me , they haunt me."

You don't hesitate to grab her hand and immediately start guiding her to Miranda's bedroom. You suprise yourself at how good you handle your steps in the dark. Eveline's sobs silence up when you knock on her mother's door.

For a moment nothing happens so you knock a few more times , only stopping when a lamp's bright light from inside suddenly shines between the cracks of the door.

Miranda's golden hair is messy and her face looks awfully sleepy as she greats you. Yet you notice a playful smile on her lips.

"I hope you're not getting used to waking me up in the middle of the night because-" - she stops when her eyes linger lower and she recognizes her daughter - "what's wrong, Evie?"

The black haired girl's hand jerks and you're forced to let go of her. She runs to Miranda and hugs her tightly, burying her head into the side of her stomach as she begins to sob again. Her mother's soft fingers run carefully through her hair.

"She probably had a nightmare" - you quickly explain, suddenly feeling your throat dry - "she was crying when she came to me and-"

"I didn't ask you"

You freeze. Miranda's voice can be sharp, and mean - you know that very well. But the way she said that , it sent shivers down your spine. You're too stunned to even try to apologies.

Eveline nods her head when her mother tells her to go into the room, you watch her slowly disappear from the door while Miranda's stone cold gaze stays on you.

"Children like attention, they seek it" - she begins to explain, making your vision focus again, on her - "i suggest you lock your door if you don't want to be bothered"

"Wait-"

The door is slammed closed before you can finish your sentence, the last words you hear are a rude "good night" from the blonde woman and then , a clicking sound.

However you stay at your place , staring at the floor, in front of the now locked door. You can hear their murmurs from inside but it's quiet , too quiet. You don't understand the things they are discussing.

You stay until the lamp from inside is turned off and you no longer see any source of light near you. You clench your hands into tight fists as you walk off.

This family is strange, and downright scary. What is wrong with them? What was Eveline talking about and why was Miranda acting like it was your fault?

You groan, grabbing your throbbing head in sweaty palms. You don't even consider locking your door , if it meant to ignore a child's cry for help then you weren't going to do it.

When you decide to go to bed again, however, you listen carefully to the silence and soon you tremble. Scraping, as if someone is trying to break through the wall. Loud banging , somewhere far , from the other rooms. Screaming from downstairs-

You run to the door, locking it not once but twice and you firmly hold the key in your hand while walking back to your bed. It's only then when you remember Miranda's words from earlier that day.

"My children are no angels".

umbrella scientist miri 🤭

Eva, my Eva

UHH this was really quick and messy and I would’ve planned it better but I needed to get this down before I lost motivation LMFAO

In The Eyes Of God - Part IV

The teeth of the fox.

Part I | Part II | Part III

Mother Miranda x Reader/OC

(Warning for explicit gore)

“On the bed.”

“Make me.”

You most certainly have a death wish. That is the only explanation for this.

Or it’s just fun to watch a God deal with a brat.

Mother Miranda raises a single eyebrow at your defiance and prowls closer. “What was that?” She asks, lowly.

You double down. “Make me.” 

Your frontal lobe is a unicycle with a clown on the pedals.

A strong grip yanks your head back, your neck craning under the pressure. You half cry out, half moan at the aggression and you can feel a wetness grow between your legs. Miranda’s breath is hot on your ear as she speaks from behind you with unexpected composure. “Is this what you wanted, hmm? Your hair wrapped around my fist?”

She gives a sharp tug, and it contrasts so deliciously with how calm her voice is that it has your brain buzzing as more heat gathers in your core. 

“You should take care being such a brat, my little dove…” She takes advantage of your height difference and craned back head to lean down and place a whisper of a kiss against your lips, speaking against them as she continues. “...you may not like the consequences.”

You shudder in her grasp. Your neck aches from its unnaturally held position, but her hold on you is too enticing for you to care. Besides, you’d already proven yourself to be a bit of a masochist, hadn’t you?

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” You dare. It’s bold coming from your submissive position, but it seems you are unable to keep the brat at bay -though your strained, breathy voice kind of contradicts your rebellious words.

With your hair still tightly wound in her fist, Miranda swiftly walks you forward until your knees knock into the desk before spinning you both around. She uses her grip to tug your face forward into a bruising kiss, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, harsh, before pulling away and leaning back against the wooden edge, releasing your hair. There’s a dangerous glint in her eye, and it excites you. “Kneel.”

Her sharp tone leaves no room for argument, not that you’d want to argue. On your knees for her feels like the place you were born to be. Without tilting your chin up, you maintain eye contact as you sink to the floor so that you’re looking up at her through your eyelashes. You want so badly to touch her, to run your hands along her thighs, to feel her shiver under your nails as they scrape her flawless skin, before you hike that thin, green dress up to her hips.

But you get the feeling you’ve reached your brat-o-meter quota for the day. So you keep still and wait for instruction.

A satisfied smirk crosses her lips at your obedience and her hands slide down the soft, expensive fabric of her dress to lift slowly up, up, up…

“You missed breakfast again!”

You shoot straight up with a yelp to find the bright, golden eyes of Daniela staring at you. With an evil cackle, she collapses on your lap and rolls to the side of the bed, clutching her hands to her chest in glee. 

Why did you like her again?

You bring a hand up to your head to massage your temple to find slick, sweaty skin.

Ew.

God, your entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

With a huff you turn to your murderous friend, still giggling away to herself on your comforter. “That was cruel.”

She fake pouts at you before waving her hand in dismissal. “Oh please, you should be thanking me for offering to wake you. Cassandra wanted to.”

You grimace but have to accept that Cassandra finding you in this state would have been much worse. The brunette could be fun, but she was also a menace who didn’t know when to quit. You’d had a similar style dream a few months back and when Cassandra found out, you’d been mercilessly mocked -oh come on, we’re just having fun!- for weeks.

“Did you dream of me~?” Came the lilt from your side and you fought the urge to roll your eyes at her.

“No.”

Daniela pouts and bats her eyes at you. “Aw, lovey, I thought we had something special?”

Part of you melts at the nickname. A larger part of you cringes. “Better not let anyone hear you say that.”

Now it’s the redhead’s turn to roll her eyes as she perches on your bed, watching you stroll around the quarters, deciding whether to shower off your filth or just accept your state and dress for the day.

“Whatever. She left you here.” 

There’s some bite to your friend’s voice that hints at something deeper, but you decide not to open that can of worms right this second. Daniela had definitely taken the clear claiming from Mother Miranda’s the hardest, and you found that she rebelled against it petulantly. 

Though… you can’t deny the same thought had plagued you over the last week. A whole week, but it felt like a month. Your belongings had been gathered after your evening with the high priestess, making it seem as though you’d be leaving the castle with her, but at the last minute she left without you, not even so much as a ‘goodbye’. For all you tried, it was impossible to not feel cold and abandoned in her wake.

Colette had been the one designated to inform you of the loss of your belongings, the box having been ruined when Anabelle’s body crumpled on top of it.

The poor girl had shaken like a leaf, avoiding eye contact with you as she whimpered out her information.

“Apologies about your belongings, Miss Miranda.”

Miss Miranda? Getting fucked gave you an honorific?

“Oh, that’s alright.” You had assured her with a huff. Again, your belongings weren’t really yours. “It was mostly just… necklaces made out of teeth, so…”

After deciding on a shower, you ignore Daniela’s further jabs relating to Mother Miranda and make your way down to the kitchens, leaving her to her dramatic lamenting on your bed. You hadn’t been permitted to work since your evening with the priestess, and the girls, as much as you adore them, were suffocating you with their incessant need to take up all of your free time.

So, when you could, you helped with chores to keep yourself occupied. The maids were too afraid of you to shoo you away, which left you with the ability to work in peace for a few hours before one of the Dimitrescu daughters found you and snatched you away, scolding you for disobeying the rules. Besides, there was a lot of work to be done. The other maids, while avoidant, surely appreciated the extra help.

“It’s here again…” 

You freeze as the swinging kitchen doors slam closed behind you with a ‘whoosh’. Those words, hissed with venom, clearly not meant for you to hear, arrest your movement. Or maybe they were intended for your ears. Either way, you’re now on edge and you grit your teeth to keep from biting something you’ll regret back into the room. Teeth clenched, you stride to the counter, aiming to assist with whatever breakfast dish was currently being prepared. 

A shoulder firmly, purposefully bumps yours so hard that you have to take a step back to balance and a snicker sounds from the corner by the sinks. 

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

They are just silly, bored girls who need someone to hate. Fine. You can take that. It’s fine.

You clench your jaw harder and lean closer to where you’re now working with the dough at the counter. Knead. Spread. Knead. Spread. Breathe in. Breathe out.

See? Just some good, measured meditation is all you need. Your old therapist had been right, the way people treat you says more about them than-

Something large shoves into you from behind, slamming your hips painfully into the counter and your hands are pushed across the granite, rolling your dough right onto the tile floor with a ‘splat’.

Oh-kay.

Really?

Mid-knead!?

With a huff you swipe the now ruined dough off the floor before storming over to the bin to angrily toss it. 

“Oops, sorry!” Comes such a sincere voice. The act is really and truly sold by the muffled giggle that follows. It’s so convincing, in fact, that she deserves an Oscar, you think… shoved right up her-

“-slut.”

It’s murmured under breath, but there’s no doubt this time it is absolutely meant for you to hear. 

Your eyes catch sight of the knife holder to your left.

(She needs a few new holes to give her mouth a break)

Your fingers flinch at the intrusive thought, and you realize they are already half out-stretched for the nearest blade. Horrified, you snatch the offending hand back, clutching it to your chest. 

Jesus. The girl was a bitch, but you didn’t need to murder her for it.

Frantically, you begin backing out of the kitchen, pushing the doors open with your back as you keep your hand clutched to your chest tightly, afraid that if you let it go it might act of its own accord. Possessed.

You make a brisk walk back to your quarters before you can cause any true harm. Maybe you can hide in the bathroom to avoid the Dimitrescu sisters while you calm the fuck down. 

Images of a sharp, shiny blade in your hand keep flashing in your mind. Sinking into firm flesh. Blood. Heat. Teeth. Laughter. Is it yours?

(The fox still tears into the lamb, no matter how loudly it bleats)

There it is. That kind of thought again. That voice. You let out a shrill, closed-mouth scream of annoyance at its intrusion into your brain, rounding the corner into the staff quarters. 

“Little one.”

You startle so hard at the voice you nearly wipe out on the cement below, limbs flailing like a cartoon character. Your hand flies to your chest as you see Cassandra sprawled lazily across the end of your bed. Her hands are glistening with fresh blood and you wonder which poor soul entered the quarters midday to happen upon the most bloodthirsty sister. She grins lavishly at you and wiggles her fingers in a little wave. Her teeth are red with fresh blood as well and for a moment your picture her tearing into that mouthy little maid from the kitchen-

My God. Get ahold of yourself!

The brunette’s smile widens at your pained expression, delighting in your distress, and she stalks towards you like a mischievous house cat. “Oooh, pray tell what has you so upset, little one?” 

She trails a single finger around your shoulder as she circles you before snatching it away and leaning into your space. Her breath hits you like a truck and you make an effort to shove her away. “Oh my god, what did you eat?” 

“Myrtle.”

Ah. That’d be the poor soul, then.

You frown, but Cassandra’s grin stays as she continues, pulling out her sickle to run her hands over the red, sticky liquid there as well. “Grab a coat.”

The mundaneness of the request makes you tilt your head like a bird, brows furrowed in confusion. “...why?”

“We’re headed to the village!”

Headed to the village? You hadn’t been to the village since the van broke down…

“All of us?” You’re hit with the idea of a large Castle Dimitrescu field trip and you inwardly giggle picturing all of the maids hopping into a large, yellow school bus with the Lady Dimitrescu dressed as Miss Frizzle.

Heh. She’d look so ridiculous.

“No, stupid, just the four of us.” She responds in an exasperated tone before pushing you ahead of her with her sickle. You notice she’s careful not to touch you any longer.

Upon reaching the front foyer, you find the other two Dimitrescu sisters pre-bundled up in layer upon layer of expensive furs, hats, gloves, scarves. It was clear that their mother had been a part of dressing them to leave the castle walls. It was still summer, but the mountain air could be brisk, and the lady took no chances when it came to her three children.

Neither girl looked particularly thrilled to be a) so thoroughly padded that they looked like fat little bears, or b) heading out on this village trip at all. 

You glance back at Cassandra who is sporting a less bulky look, though still thoroughly covered, and she is handing you the same brown leather jacket you’d first arrived with.

“My jacket!” You squeal in delight, snatching it from her before holding it to your chest like a long-lost lover and inhaling deeply. It still smelled of your old perfume. “I thought you’d been incinerated or given to a needy villager…”

“How come you don’t have to wear twenty-thousand layers!?” Daniela demands of her sister with a high pitched whine, her face stormy.

“Because.” 

It’s all Cassandra offers flippantly before Bela rolls her eyes, ushering the three of you out the front door. “Enough, let’s go.”

The four of you march out the door into the pleasant afternoon air, the pine needles crunching satisfyingly under your shoes. You’re glad it hasn’t rained lately, as your boots hadn’t been returned to you with your jacket, and your maid slippers wouldn’t last five minutes in the mud. Though the temperature is comfortable, you pull your jacket tighter around you, reveling in the feeling of the soft leather under your fingers once again. A feeling you never thought you’d have again. You can’t help but wonder why it was returned to you in the first place…

As you near the village, trailing slightly behind the three sisters, a strange wave of nostalgia and homesickness hits you. The old, battered rooftops of the crumbling houses, the chickens running loose through the streets, the occasional villager rushing to their destination with a cold, unfriendly expression. It was all the same. The only difference was the lack of snow and bitter wind chilling you to your very bones. 

“Ugh, brat!”

A stray clump of mud is flung in front of you before a childish slap fight breaks out between the youngest and middle Dimitrescu.

Okay, two differences.

“Where are we headed?” You lean into Bela and a pang of hurt runs through you when she slightly leans back, keeping you from making contact. 

“We’re looking for someone.” She responds in a cryptid way, eyes trained forward, before she pushes on past her sisters with a scoff. “You’re both being childish.” She hisses and you can’t help but frown at her tightly wound demeanor. 

The four of you continue on through the village, people scurrying out of the way upon seeing the Dimitrescus, aided by Cassandra’s occasional open-mouthed hisses when they didn’t flutter away fast enough.

At least someone was having fun.

An uneasy air had settled on you after Bela’s short answer to your question, and you keep closer behind her, careful not to accidentally brush her copious layers of coats. 

Eventually you come to a stop outside of one of the many worn, wooden cabins on the edge of the village. It’s separated from the rest of the homes, a large plot of farmland on all sides. A hefty gust of wind blows against the four of you as you reach the door and it feels like an omen.

Bela shifts her weight, seemingly restless. “Head in, we’ll be right behind you.”

“Um…” Your gaze flickers between the three sisters, Bela and Daniela looking visually apprehensive, whereas Cassandra looks torn between anxious and excited. “Why?”

“There’s something we have to check around the back. We will be in after you.”

Bela’s tone was clipped with no room for argument, even if she didn’t seem entirely sure. It reminded you of her behavior the night Mother Miranda came to the castle. 

Fear washes over you, chilling you as though it’s winter again and you’re back to freezing in your little leather jacket. You give a small nod before pressing your hand against the splintered wood of the rotting cottage door. It groans under your pressure but acquiesces, slowly pushing back, revealing a darkened interior. Eventually, the heavy door continues on its own until it slams into the wall behind it with a ‘bang!’ that makes you jump in your skin. Hesitantly, you step further in, the wooden floor creaking beneath your slippers. Every part of this place alerts of your presence and the sounds make you wince. 

A muffled noise reaches your ears and you snap your head up, frantically searching for the sound. You see nothing. 

It reaches your ears again and you realize it must be coming from the next room around the corner, and you wish you had something in your hands to use as a weapon. Why did the girls bring you here? 

Maybe they considered you tainted, now. Used by their God and therefore worthless.

Maybe Mother Miranda had ordered it, having had her fill of you, wanting you disposed of.

You swallow the lump in your throat and continue to creep along the hall towards the source of the noise you were clearly brought here to confront. The wood keeps creaking under your weight as you bring yourself closer and closer, until eventually you round the corner and your breath catches in your throat.

In front of you sits a man, bound to a small, rickety chair. His sandy hair falls forward in his face, but his familiar green eyes lazily work their way up as you come into view. He smiles upon seeing you. “Miranda… was it? Of course. How could I forget?”

Your stomach twists as you take him in. You think you’re going to be sick.

You want to scream, to cry, to rip your hair out. To rip his hair out.

But all you do is stand, frozen in place, eyes wide. 

A figure glides up behind him, running a golden-clawed hand through his hair before curling their fingers backward to grip his head and wrench it back, and a broken gasp tearing from his throat. Your eyes snap up to find none other than the angelic face of Mother Miranda, lit by the late afternoon sun filtering through the dusty window. Her grip yanks again, bending his neck at an unnatural angle, but her eyes zero in on you, the blue in them flashing brightly.

Everything stops. Time is frozen as you stare straight into the eyes of God.

“Hello, my little crow.”

Time resumes.

There’s a myriad of emotions flooding you, and you don’t know which to pay attention to first. Your desperation. Your rage. Your longing. Your hate. Your desire.

“Relax your jaw, sweet girl.”

You do as you’re asked, unaware that you were even clenching tightly in the first place. 

With a flick of her hand, Miranda releases the man’s head, sending it forward so harshly you think it might snap his neck. Not that you’d mourn. It would be what he deserves.

In her measured way, Mother Miranda prowls closer to you, circling around until she is behind you, her hands gently cradling your shoulders. She lowers her mouth to your ear and you shiver at the warmth of her breath. “You know him, no?”

You swallow and nod, watching the man raise his head weakly to regard you once again.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you alive.” He slurs his words as though he’s drunk.

Liar.

“I knew you were tough. Smart. Much smarter than me. I knew you’d make it.” He continues and your blood boils. 

Mother Miranda continues her sweet words in your ear as her hands slide down your arms before they release their hold. “Benjamin is the reason you’re here at all, is he not?”

He looks the same as the day you’d come to the village, although, a bit worse for the wear at the moment. His green eyes still hold that friendly facade, his smile hides something selfish and sinister. Even tied back, his movements hold that same lazy, blasé style from when you’d met him six months ago. 

“Yes.”

You can’t see it, but you know the priestess smiles behind you.

Benjamin chuckles, despite his current position, and you remember that laugh.

“I’m sorry things went this way. I wish you all the best, truly.”

Your mouth twitches with anger as you remember the day you came to the village. The friendly green eyes that greeted you at the Inn. The wide-toothed smile that led you away from the town center. The laugh that seemed a bit off to you. The voice that haunted your dreams for months. The last face you saw before waking up in Castle Dimitrescu…

The clack of heels shakes you out of your memory as Mother Miranda rounds the other side of you, crossing back to Benjamin, who is limply leaning against his bonds. Standing behind him once again, the blonde made direct eye contact with you before cutting through the ties holding him to the chair with her nail guards.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda…” He coos, his eyes filled with devotion and…

…lust.

Your fists tighten and it alerts you to something foreign in your right hand. You look down to find a silver blade. When did that get there? It’s similar to the one you’d reached for this morning in the kitchen. That felt so long ago now, like days had passed. 

Warm breath brushes across your neck and you look up to find that Mother Miranda is no longer standing near Benjamin, but rather behind you once again.

He smiles at you and takes a step forward. 

You grip the handle of the blade in your hand.

A strange, violent glee fills you and you wish you were the fourth Dimitrescu sister with sharp teeth to match your need for flesh.

You want to gorge yourself on his throat.

“What do you want to do, my little crow?”

(Rip it out and leave it a bloody sacrifice)

Oooh, there’s that little voice again. This time it’s enticing, it’s welcoming. Like an old friend greeting you upon returning home. How could you ever have doubted its presence?

Your bones are vibrating. Your blood is singing. God is whispering in your ear with a sweet smile, encouraging you to release this man from his mortal prison.

It would be inconsiderate of you to ignore God’s gentle provocation. Especially when her breath is fanning your neck so gently and you just know her eyes are blown wide, waiting for your decision.

You shouldn’t disappoint her. Really, you shouldn’t.

Benjamin takes another step.

Fool.

Without making a sound your arm shoots forward, knife sinking into such soft skin, so pliable under the metal. Too pliable, really. Who knew it was this easy?

His expression remains the same, the only change being the blood now spurting from his neck, coating your face, your hair, your shirt as he collapses to the ground, twitching with what remains of his life. 

Your mind flashes images of Anabelle before you as you stare at the man bleeding out on the floor. This kill wasn’t as clean, but just as effective.

You stare at him harder.

Reality begins to settle. 

Dead.

This man is dead.

You killed him.

You’re torn between horror and… a strange satisfaction.

No. That’s not right. You’re not a murderer. You don’t enjoy things like this. Quick, shallow breaths work their way in and out of your chest as you try to grasp what you’ve just done and you feel lightheaded.  A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, preventing you from simply crumpling to the floor, buckling under your wobbly knees. A saccharine voice coos in your ear. “That’s it, my sweet girl. You’re alright.”

You lean into the warmth, the safety, the voice telling you it will all be okay, rotating in her arms so as to curl into her breast, blocking out the rest of the world. You clutch to her like a lifeline as you press your face into her robes, attempting to block out of the reality of what you’ve done. 

You feel a hand brushing against your hair, now sticky with blood.

“I’m so proud of you, little crow.” God coos in your ear, her voice dripping with satisfaction, and you finally relax in her hold. Yes. You did what you had to. What was deserved. He deserved it. You slowly lift your chin to look God in the eye and find her looking down at you with a fire, an intensity. Her hand lifts to cup your chin. She dips down to press a firm kiss to your bloody lips and everything settles in your mind.

Her next words against your skin echo something that has stuck in your brain since you last saw her. 

“Are you happy now, my little dove?”

New chapter, let's go🦅🦅🦅