I found myself in a peculiar situation, dizzy for a few seconds, as I opened the door. A wave of panic washed over me, for my pet had nearly died. I was supposed to be living in this so-called family house with a brother I had never seen and parents I had never heard of. Just to confirm your assumption, yes, I'm an orphan.
Inspecting the mansion, I stumbled upon a painting that read "Martins.B." Folding my arms, I wondered if it referred to a family name or someone's first name. Then, it dawned on me that "B" must be a name, considering my own name is Beatrice. It was just a ridiculous assumption of mine. The painting itself resembled a puzzle, requiring careful observation to notice the initials hidden within it. The structure of this abandoned mansion resembled that of a wicked king's castle in a fairytale book. The garden, unlike that of any normal house, was filled with thorny rose bushes, massive cacti, Rhododendron flowers, and other harmful plants. "Beware of your thoughts and take caution of what you touch" was boldly written at the entrance as a warning. Feeling shivers yet curiosity, I hesitated but ventured inside, reminding myself of my agreement and the need for shelter, convincing myself that nothing could go wrong.
Stepping into the lobby, a surge of relief washed over me as the bright light and cool atmosphere contrasted with the eerie vibes outside. Suddenly, a mumbling sound caught my attention. I turned to see a tired-looking man, older than me, with dark circles under his eyes and the scent of alcohol surrounding him. "Young Miss Beatrice?" he mumbled. I nodded, acknowledging my so-called title as the only daughter of someone rich. "You have to meet the others in the house," he mumbled, attempting to introduce me. However, his drunkenness impaired his professionalism, and he passed out before finishing his sentence. Sighing, I dragged him to the living room and unceremoniously dropped him onto the sofa. Though rough, I cared little for his comfort. It was there that I encountered the other inhabitants, all fast asleep and snoring like logs on the floor. Counting each of them, I found 4 men, their limbs sprawled in different directions, a recipe for future pain upon waking. Glancing at the fifth person, the drunken man named Alfred, I hissed in annoyance and decided to explore the rest of the house.
To my dismay, the house appeared as if it had hosted a wild party. Food crumbs, empty alcohol bottles, juice cartons, candy and biscuit wrappers littered the premises. "The people in this house are in contrast to what this house suggests," I muttered, attempting to normalize the mess and convince myself that it was just like any other home. With that thought in mind, I continued my exploration, knowing that this mansion was to be my new home.
Exhausted, I made my way to the kitchen on the first floor. However, as I reached for the fridge door, something beneath my feet startled me. I let out a scream, believing I had stumbled upon a female corpse. Trembling, I soon realized that the lady was merely snoring and not lifeless. Gathering my courage, I stood there until a tap on my shoulder jolted me back to reality. Slowly turning around, I saw a little girl with peculiar makeup and costume, smiling mischievously from atop the kitchen counter. "Hi, I'm Lily. I'm five years old, the youngest in the house, and my hobby is collecting," she announced. Extending her tiny hand, she introduced herself and said, "And you must be Beatrice." I shook her hand and replied, "Nice to meet you, Lily." She offered to show me my room, mentioning that Mrs. Clara, the cook, was not a ghost or a corpse.
Leaving the kitchen, Lily proceeded to explain the use of some strange mechanisms in the house. Despite feeling unsure, I maintained a brave facade, not wanting to appear weak before Lily. As we stepped out of the elevator, I felt a momentary dizziness but quickly regained my composure. Lily led the way, her excitement contagious. We approached a door labeled "VII." Intrigued, I recalled my conversation with Lily, where she had mentioned the different personalities of the housemates, but she never spoke of my so-called brother. I concluded that he must be the introverted and cold type. Other housemates included Charles, whose appearance didn't match his true nature, Desmond, the snitch, Richard, plagued by nightmares from watching too many horror movies, and Scott, an avid gamer. The drunken man I had carried was Alfred, the butler, and the lady I had seen snoring in the kitchen was Clara, the cook.
Clearing my throat, I composed myself before entering the room. Lily stared at me, waiting for a comment, but before she could make one, a loud bell sound interrupted us. It rang continuously, disturbing the silence. Eager to introduce me to the other members, Lily grabbed my hand, and we headed back to the elevator. Descending to the ground floor, I noticed that the once messy floor had been cleaned and the housemates were neatly arranged. As we settled in and began getting to know each other, I smiled and greeted everyone. As the young miss of the family, I needed to be accommodating. For some unspoken reason, my brother's friends lived in this house, which meant I had to communicate with my brother and his friends. Hence, my journey as the young Miss Beatrice of the Martin family began, and my old life as Beatrice the Gardner was left behind.