1 Behind Closed Doors

Amelia Clementine, a sixteen-year-old girl had lately grown to be a housemaid for a family dubbed the Chateaus. She had received all of her professional housemaid skills from her late auntie, essentially addressing Amelia as the best of her age. Today, she was ignorant of the experiences that were soon to transpire to her.

There, her behind reclining on the boarded footstool, she stared near the glass window and observed the sunset, particularly fond of the way its radiance caresses the verdant horizon. However, this tranquility was abruptly cut brief as a malicious, yet graceful voice filled Amelia's eardrums.

➤ Amelia Clementine!

This voice reached her in seconds, even from the opposing side of the discotheque she was supposedly dusting, which yielded a great space of at least fifteen square yards. It wasn't long before she had identified the voice, It was one of Amelia's foremen, La'core Chateau. However, this woman fancied being mentioned as "Miss Chateau" by Amelia and announced that it serves as a form of respect towards Amelia's elders. Amelia quickly advanced towards the lady, listening to her supposed request.

➤ Yes, lady Chateau?

➤ It appears as if you've missed cleaning several of the keys on my family's piano. You thick-skulled, bungling girl you, your salary should be halved so it can equal the amount of work you put into your craft, so next time I expect you to be thoroughgoing in your work. I shouldn't have to reiterate myself, should I?

Peering up at La'core, Amelia nodded in agreement before feeling a sudden smack to the face, she had been slapped my Miss Chateau.

➤ What is this movement you are doing with your head, I don't want you to nod, I want to hear you respond.

Even though the woman appeared relaxed, La'core had an insidious dictator tone to her presence. Not even shouting, but acting as if she was some sort of military administrator punishing their cadet. Amelia parted her lips, replying to her employer's verbal and physical abuse, picketing her words delicately as to not be struck once more. Even as anxiously as Amelia desired to speak abreast of her foremen, she understood that if she had gotten terminated, she would have no other root of revenue to support herself and acknowledging her age, not much business would be available to her.

➤ I'm sorry Miss Chateau, I'll be more thoroughly observant next time.

The noise of blood-red heel bottoms could be heard echoing the corridors of the mansion, clattering the floor with her every step, as La'core started to step out of the room. She inquired that Amelia followed her, as Miss Chateau had additional jobs for the youthful miss to perform; it was her service after all.

The two of them converged across the foyer, approaching a door that leas to the master bedroom. It was Mr. and Ms. Chateau's bedroom and the fragrance of rosemary oozed from under the crevice of the room's door. La'core unlocked and opened the door as Amelia stood in front of its threshold, awaiting her foremen. The lady stepped over to the side of her bed and grabbed hold of a rusted watering pail, walking back to Amelia and delivering it to her.

➤ I want you to take this. I'm permitting you to enter our memorabilia and water the plants there since Mr. Chateau and I will be visiting a gathering on our colleague's yacht. They're considerably dehydrated, so make sure you water them plenty.

Accepting and handling firm, Amelia grasped the pail and had assured that all of the plants would be watered.

➤ I understand Miss Chateau, I won't fail this time.

➤ No dilly-dallying now. Escort yourself from the room, I'll soon be leaving shortly.

Minutes later, Amelia had noticed herself strolling down the passageway of the Chateau's mansion which was at least as twice as voluminous as most mansions in that day and age. Predestinated, this made the hallways that much extended, exhausting Amelia's legs; she felt as if she had been walking for hours when in actuality it had been roughly thirty minutes. The fibers in the back of her legs ached from the calories she had burned, walking while her arms swung to and fro, continuing through the long hallway. Unlike most mansions, it wasn't a kind of maze, but in fact, a singular route and her destination was a direct shot.

Nevertheless, it wasn't too long ere she had arrived at the memorabilia and let out a cry of satisfaction.

➤ God, finally! It feels like I've been walking forever, but if she's going to make me walk for half an hour to water some plants, they'd at least better be pretty and damn well dehydrated.

Opening the door, Amelia passed over the vestibule and became dumbfounded, believing that she had heard a little girl's cry. She started to dart her head in every direction she could, attempting to locate the origin of the noise before fastening her eyes on an accumulation of plants on the opposing side of the room. She advanced toward the area, ever so gently.

Amelia stopped a meter or two ahead of the plants, she heard the sounds again. It sounded like whispers and cries, like a little girl, she was sure of it this time.

➤ Amy...Amelia...

The murmurs of a small girl reverberated from the plants and ricocheted off the walls and into Amelia's ears. She began to tremble slightly, adrenaline racing through her veins, judging whether she should flee and forsake La'core's request or follow through. Amelia forced herself to step forward, more frightened of losing her job than anything else and so she consumed her fear and neared the plants with the corroded watering pail as the fluid inside sloshed from side to side within its metal vessel. Ultimately, she arrived shortly in front of the plants, so close that she could smell the odor of rotting stalks.

The maid reached out her hand, delicately stroking the powdered and crumbling leaves of the plants, tending to them as if they required love, her eyes rising slowly as she witnessed something ascend from the follicles of the plant, describing it as a "spirit-like ghost thing" that phased directly through the plants themselves. It had uprisen above her, wavering in the air before plunging towards Amelia's person which had been deadened with fear and confusion, she was once more dumbfounded.

Amelia dropped the eroded bucket, allowing the liquid that was inside to scatter athwart the floor to which she slipped and fell toward it, bending her ankle at such speeds it had eviscerated, becoming shredded apart swiftly and cleanly like a papercut. Her blood seeped amidst the floor and discovered itself merging with the opposing liquid, but the discomfort in her ankle was nothing compared to the tightness in her chest that she was holding. Amelia's insides started to feel cold as if her heart had ceased its beating and her body wasn't managing to keep itself warm anymore. She tumbled and rolled back and forth on the ground, still clenching the hub of her breasts where the cold tightness set latent. Through all of the catastrophe, she looked down at her ankle, watching as her skin and flesh commenced seaming itself back collectively, closing the wound and healing her ankle. She couldn't comprehend it all and was being overrun with information, nearly fainting from the sheer amount of shock the pain produced.

Hyperventilating, she steadily exhaled fumes of nitrogen, freezing the surrounding air, it was almost alienlike. Nevertheless, the pain began to desist and Amelia unclenched her chest, standing up in an attempt to catch her breath.

➤ What...the hell is going on..?!

Amelia hadn't realized the man towering over her, Mr. Chateau, not yet heard as he invaded the room. He watched her grovel on the floor ere drawing a sort of firearm and directed it at her glabella region. Fearful of being dispatched, Amelia fumbled in an endeavor to crawl aback disconcerted as to why he would intend such a thing.

➤ Mr. Chateau, what are you doing?!

➤ Unfortunately, you're now one of them, a hybrid. I evermore felt uneasy concerning you, but I required assurance, hence I followed your tracks and neglected traveling with my lady. The healing foot and icy breath were red flags, so now I'll have to be rid of you.

Ere she could speak, there was a magnificent burst of light accompanied by the weapon propelling a minute projectile near the region between's her eyes. The tiles had been painted a glorious crimson while Amelia's person hadn't moved, but oozed of fluids from her head.

Sounds of zipping and sloshing could be heard, escaping the wound that set amidst Amelia's glabella and began to dissipate, driving the projectile outward. The petite sphere gradually converted itself into ice before tumbling upon the ground and ultimately shattering. The maid rose, facing Mr. Chateau with lifeless eyes, but of being lifeless she was not, preferably unconsciously conscious. The spirit that had overrun her body was conscious while Amelia herself was not, serving as a secondary consciousness. Hastily, Mr. Chateau withdrew his weapon once more in an attempt to fire at her for a second time, he let off tens of the orbicular projectiles which all halted in front of Amelia's eyes, essentially suspended amidst the air ere shifting into ice and plummeting to the floor, as their kindred did previously.

Amelia, powerless consciously, attempted to combat this revenant that had its clasp atop her body, mind, and soul but showed inefficiencies, it was useless. She gaped at Mr. Chateau with eyes saturated with lifelessness and leisurely approached him. Alone, his person stood there, converted into her victim and was disheartened by fear, incapable of moving ere falling to his knees from the absolute volume of hopelessness her atmosphere had produced. As she advanced to him, he sought frantically with the last of his power to fight back or at least swing a punch only to have the totality of his arm phase through her body. As much as he didn't want to consider so, Amelia had resembled that of a spirit and he was powerless to stop her.

Opposed to earlier, Amelia stood overhead Mr. Chateau as he gawked at her face, captivated with terror. He was trembling, essentially petrified and so frightened that he dare hesitated to blink. Nonetheless, his palpebra started to progress among the white, orbicular region and before it could caress its partner, the completeness of the mansion had become ice, as well as the man himself. Amelia, with an individual thought, essentially produced a wintery sculpture while snowflakes descended from the room's ceiling, with Mr. Chateau's Eyelid frozen in place.