The Holly and The Ivy

Clara's eyes glided over the neatly-written paper, widening when she saw the part about her life being in danger. "Surely he was joking," she thought, reading the note one more time before setting it back down again. She picked up the clothes he had given her, standing slowly and walking over to the door. A gentle tug and it shut with a soft click, echoed by a second as she turned the lock. She then moved back to the bed, tugging off her... was that blood?

Clara stared at her shirt with utmost horror. The rich emerald silk, with mother of pearl buttons and its cute pink bow, was spattered all over with blood. What had happened last night? She remembered screaming, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not see anything. Shivering, she gingerly reached down, unbuttoning and pulling the shirt off. Thankfully, it had not soaked through. Her dark khaki slacks came next. These had soaked through, she realized... and a sprint to the bathroom had her emptying the contents of her stomach, covered in a cold sweat.

She sunk to her knees, shaking her head over and over again, soft sobs rocking her frame even as she rocked back and forth, arms wrapped around herself. Those screams had been her friends... the amount of blood on her body meant that they were all very likely dead... dead by the monster that had been watching over her as she slept. It was all her fault. She had come in here, knowing they would follow, and now they were dead..

Numbly, she reached forward, turning on the water and putting the stopper in the tub. As the water ran, she went back to the adjacent room, the guest room she had been sleeping in, and retrieved the clothes. She threw them onto the sink, finished removing the stained garments and her shoes, and stepped into the bath. Immediately she began to scrub her body with her hands as hard as she could, not seeing any soap, not bothering to look in fear of finding something else.

The water cooled for quite a while before she deemed herself clean and stepped out of the bath. A still-trembling hand reached out only to fall a moment later when she realized she could not put her clothes on while still wet. Glancing around, she did notice a towel, and after hesitantly smelling it to be sure it was alright to use, she began to dry herself off. When she was finished, she moved to the sink and unfolded the clothes. He had given her a white long-sleeved dress shirt embroidered with various glittering silver beads and thread, and a pair of black corduroy jeans, and she quickly put them on.

Back to the bedroom she went, picking up the note and reading it for a third time. She threw it back on the bed with a scoff, "Indeed, and don't worry about the fact that you were covered in blood!" she hissed, unlocking the door and heading up the hall, into the parlor. It had a faint floral smell, but she knew better. This was where they had all been, last she remembered.. She knelt down, running her hand along one of the boards. He had killed the others and spared her... why?

A worse fate was in store for her, she decided. What had been that feeling, anyway? Pain greater than anything she had ever felt.. her head was slowly being crushed by an invisible force, throbbing... vision darkening until nothing was there but black. Even sound had been muffled greatly, but not quite extinguished, no matter how much she had wished it was. And just before she had passed out entirely, a hint of clarity--a flash of deep crimson hair, the rest obscured by shadow. He had caught her, kept her from falling and hurting herself, even as he slaughtered the rest of her friends. Something about his aura hurting others.. and it amazing that she could bear it. Maybe that was what the pain was.

It was here that Clara succumbed to sleep once again, her head colliding with the cool wood floor, with nothing but the flicker and crackle of torchlight and the spring aroma mingled with the very faint trace of blood in the floor.