Ophelia sank into the plush bed, its downy softness cradling her like a gentle cloud. But her tranquility was short-lived, as a crease of concern etched itself across her forehead. Landing the job in a single interview had caught her off guard, and the haste with which everything had unfolded left her reeling.
She hadn't even packed a bag, anticipating a longer selection process. Her trusty old Toyota, parked outside the Manor's entrance And her family, blissfully unaware of her whereabouts, would soon begin to worry.
As these thoughts swirled, Ophelia's hand instinctively sought the familiarity of her phone, nestled in her pocket. She pulled it out and typed a hasty message to her brother.
"I got the job. Will come home tomorrow."
The words glowed on the screen, a reassuring lifeline to the world she'd left behind. With a sigh, Ophelia sent the message, the soft whoosh of its departure a comforting sound.
Her gaze fell on the closed wardrobe ,she wondered if it were empty
Here's the continuation:
Ophelia's curiosity got the better of her, and she rose from the bed to approach the wardrobe. The polished wood surface reflected the soft glow of the room, inviting her to explore. She turned the ornate handle, and the doors swung open with a soft creak.
Inside, she found an assortment of elegant garments, each one meticulously tailored to fit her perfectly. Ophelia's eyes widened as she ran her fingers over the fine fabrics – silk, lace, and velvet. A faint scent of lavender wafted from the clothes, transporting her to a world of luxury.
A small note, tucked between the garments, caught her attention:
"For your convenience, Yours to wear during your stay."
Ophelia's thoughts whirled. How had Mrs. Brooks anticipated her size and style so accurately? And what did she mean by "during your stay"? The phrasing implied a temporary arrangement, but the job offer had seemed permanent.
As she pondered these questions, Ophelia's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out to find a response from her brother:
"Congrats, sis! But what's the rush? You just got there. Be careful, okay?"
Ophelia's heart swelled with affection for her brother's concern,even Marcus sometimes was unbearable,he was still caring and kind within but that him in was slowly leaving him.
Ophelia's gaze drifted back to the wardrobe, but she hesitated to touch the clothes, despite them being her size. A nagging doubt lingered that they might be a mistake. As she was about to close the door, a faint inscription on the wooden panel caught her eye.
The writing was minuscule, nearly invisible to the naked eye, but Ophelia's keen observation picked up on it. She leaned in closer, illuminating the text with her phone's torchlight. The words sent a shiver down her spine: "They would feast on your blood."
Ophelia frowned,her finger traced the words she noticed that the words were written with a red thick liquid ,Ophelia's heart skipped a beat as she stared at the ominous message, her mind racing with questions. Who could have written this? And what did they mean by "they"? The red liquid seemed to gleam in the torchlight, like freshly dried blood. A chill ran down her spine as she felt a presence watching her, the air thickening with an unsettling energy.
With trembling fingers, Ophelia closed the wardrobe door, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. She told herself it was just a prank, a silly message left by a previous occupant. But the words lingered in her mind, echoing the doubts she'd already harbored about the hastiness of her employment.
Her phone, still clutched in her hand, buzzed again, breaking the spell. Another message from Marcus: "Sis, respond! You're scaring me." Ophelia took a deep breath and typed a reassuring reply: "I'm fine, just tired. Will call tomorrow."
As she sent the message, her gaze drifted around the lavish room, searching for any other signs of disquiet. The plush bed, the elegant furnishings, and the soft lighting all seemed to whisper reassurances, but her instincts remained on high alert.
Ophelia's thoughts turned to Mrs. Brooks, the enigmatic employer who had hired her with such haste. What secrets lay hidden behind those piercing green eyes? And what was the true nature of this job, which seemed to come with an unspoken price?
Ophelia yearned to slip out of the room and explore the manor, but she recalled Mrs. Brooks' stern admonition. The memory of her mother's ashen face suddenly flashed before her eyes, reminding her of their dependence on the financial support, she decided tto let it go as long as she got her pay and her mother bills were fixed.
*****
As Ophelia descended the stairs, the darkness seemed to swallow her whole. The air grew thick with an eerie silence, and the shadows cast by the flickering candles danced like specters on the walls. Her heart beat in tandem with the creaking of the wooden steps beneath her feet.
She reached the bottom of the staircase and paused, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light. The grand foyer, once a picture of elegance, now loomed like a cavern. Ophelia didn't know how she got to the stairs but as she thought of going back to the room she realized she wasn't in control of her own body , her body seems to have a mind of it own,she saw her self walking to the window.
As she approached the window, the moonlight cast an eerie glow on her face, illuminating the features that had changed without her realization. Ophelia's eyes widened in horror as she caught sight of her reflection. Her skin was deathly pale, and her eyes had transformed into dark, blood-red orbs. Long, razor-sharp fangs protruded from her mouth, gleaming with a malevolent intensity.
Her hands, once soft and delicate, now resembled claws, with sharp nails that seemed to be tipped with a crimson substance. Ophelia's mind reeled as she stumbled backward, her vision blurring. The room began to spin, and she felt herself being pulled toward the darkness outside,she heard a gentle knock on the door and at that moment she thought "where's the door."?
Ophelia sprang up from the bed covered in thick sweat.